Page 71 of Forcing Fate

“Go!”

Victyr scrambled to his feet and tore off. I sought out some kind of assurance in General Rafe’s dark eye, but I couldn’t make it out against the glare of the sun.

That huge bear of a man dropped to kneel in front of me.

“Get into position,” he grumbled.

My heart leapt into my throat. I laid back, pulled my knees up, and laced my raw hands behind my head. I tried to calm my racing pulse as his heavy weight pressed into the toes of my boots. He tucked my dress down and wrapped his large fingers around my ankles.

“Go.”

I sat up. He had his face turned away, staring at the ground beside me. I laid back down and sat back up. He still didn’t look at me. I tried to push out all thoughts of men or boys and focused on the burn of pulling myself.

I settled into the exercise, up and down, up and down. My abs burned. I didn’t even think I had abs up till now, but I did. And they were on fire. By forty-three curls, I shook from exertion, my breaths rasped and gasping.

“More.”

I fired a glare at the General and lifted myself. I sat up one last time before crashing down, choking back a groan.

“More!”

I gritted my teeth, and I fought to sit up once more, noting the dark eye that finally looked at me, daring me to quit. I lowered again and struggled to bring myself upright.

“Do it!”

His tone was sharp and cutting, demanding I keep going, but I just couldn’t. I fell to the ground with a hiss, arching my back in pain as my abs cramped.

“One more!” The shout tore out of his throat.

Fear fueled my strength. I shot up, gaping at him.

“Good girl.”

I groaned as I went down. This ‘good girl’ nonsense was getting on my nerves. I was not some animal to be praised. I was a woman.

His hands released my legs and his weight lifted off my toes as Commander Dewal yelled for everyone to get up.

Everything hurt. Everything. Muscles I didn’t even know I had, ached. I struggled to stand, trying to place the Commander or the General, but my vision spun as my stomach roiled.

I plunged to my knees and threw up. Not that there was much to spew, but still my stomach rebelled against this new regimen of exercise. I heaved and heaved, expelling bile and mucus. Gagging, I collapsed onto my side.

Lights danced in my vision, and I closed my eyes. Men muttered all around me.

“Get some water and move on.” Commander Dewal’s voice cut through my haze, and I pried my eyes open to see a wall of feet.

Great, everyone watched me puke my guts out. I forced myself upright and someone shoved a tin cup in my face. Water. I downed it quick, taking deep, greedy gulps.

“Easy,” a familiar growl warned.

I set the empty cup down and sat there for a moment. Nausea pushed the water right back out of me. I vomited, bracing myself against the force.

A low chuckle grated on me as I settled onto my hands and knees. The dirt bit into my open palms, and I gasped for breath. Another cup was set beside me, and I looked up to see another recruit retreating.

“Sip it.”

I wiped my mouth with my sleeve and took the second cup, nursing it. My limbs trembled, and I felt empty. I had no more energy to give.

The men retreated, following Commander Dewal. I tried to stand and failed, falling flat on my rear. Water sloshed from the cup, splattering my filthy dress. I glanced at General Rafe, crouched next to me, eyeing me curiously.

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