Page 8 of A Kingdom so Crimson

I quickly scooped up my dress from the ground, knowing Aoife would be upset about having to press out wrinkles, and hung it back into my armoire. I found my tan trousers and a tight, long-sleeved knit top, slipping them on before quickly pinning my hair up. I laced up my boots and snuck out into the quiet hallway, tiptoeing into the training arena under the estate.

I began to stretch my arms, neck, legs, back, and hips before I moved on to my warmup. I lunged and side-punched the air, practicing my breathing with each swing of my arm. I continued to jog around the room before settling in front of the large flour bag Darius set out for me.

I started with a simple 1-2-1-2 combo, allowing my heart to race harder with each punch, feeling the sting of each hit enliven my murky mind and quicken my pulse. Quickly, I moved onto a jab-cross-hook-cross, tightening my core with each forceful swing. I continued 1-2-3-2, back to a quick 1-1-2. Sweat formed on my brow as my heart pumped faster and deeper with every combo. Each forceful swing sent my arms throbbing, but I relished in the contact, the burn, and the sting from yesterday's slice. I willed myself to forget and forgo those feelings that overcame me last night, replenishing them with a newfound fury for vengeance to take back my life. And take back everything that was taken from me.

Jab-jab-cross-hook-right uppercut-left hook.

I closed my eyes, pushing back memories of Calum, Jesri, and my sorrowful past, letting the anger roam free with a rageful scream that echoed off the stone walls, propelling me to punch fiercely. My knuckles stung with each forceful thrust, hitting harder and faster, letting my anger ignite deeper until Iswung freely, barely catching myself before I fell to the ground, knocking the air out of me.

I opened my eyes to see flour splattered across the floor, coating my clothes and the wall behind it. I looked up to see the top of the bag barely hanging by a thread.

Slow clapping emerged from within the room. I quickly got up and whipped around to see Levon leaning against the door with a smirk. I curled my lip, hoping he would take the hint to leave.

"They told me you would be down here by morning. But I wasn't expecting to see a show, too," Levon said with a low chuckle, fueling my anger even more.

"Get out," I snapped back, noticing that the tip of my nose and cheeks were covered in flour. I wiped my face and patted the rest of my body, which left a white residue.

He walked towards me, assessing me before pushing his sleeves up. "Show me what you can do, Eliah," he taunted, squatting into a fighting stance. He flicked his fingers for me to join him.

"No," I sneered with venom in my voice.

He only gave me a smirk before lashing out, throwing a punch into my sliced arm that created a stinging pain reaching up into my neck. I grasped my arm, quickly stepping back.

"Always go for the weak point," he smirked, not caring that he split the wound, now dampening my cream top. I snarled at him, only making him laugh. "What happened? I noticed you had it patched last night at dinner. Someone playing a little too rough?"

He stepped closer, quickly throwing another punch, which I promptly dodged, smacking his hand down like a cat playing with its food. He gave me a wicked grin before he threw several more, all of which I blocked, throwing several at him. We danced like that until I landed a solid punch to his jaw, splitting his lip.He stepped back, touching his mouth, his fingers stained with blood.

"Well done," he cooed, walking over towards the weapons. "Now, let's see how well you do in swordplay."

He tossed me a wooden sword, and I got ready. I ran through Darius's drills in my head—shielding, charging, blocking, striking. But before I could move, Levon struck hard, jolting my arm with the force. I held steady, gripping the wood tight and blocking his attacks as best I could. His speed was impressive; I had to give him that.

He landed another blow, but I deflected it with speed. Its crash reverberated off the walls with an echo as I grunted, shoving his weight off. We persisted, moving in a dance of combat, our steps a rhythmic exchange of defense and striking.

Seeing an opening, I struck, only for him to defend easily and intensify my frustration. Before realizing it, he stuck his foot out, intruding on our dance, and tripped me. I hit the floor hard, my head connecting with the unforgiving tile, momentarily blinding me with stars. Gritting my teeth, I let out a low growl of annoyance.

"Here's the thing, Eliah," he panted with a smirk. "I never lose." He playfully jabbed the tip of his wooden sword at my shoulder. I swatted it away, curling my lip at him. He stepped back, offering me his hand.

"You're a cheat," I spat, shoving his hand away and getting to my feet. I dusted off more flour that clung to my clothes, looking down to see my sleeve wet with blood.

"Hm, we'll need to address that temper of yours as well," he remarked with a hint of amusement. I shot him a glare, resisting the urge to slap his handsome face. My fists clenched as I headed for the door. "Giving up already?" His voice dripped with sarcasm.

"I've had enough of playing games," I retorted.

His eyebrows lifted, a wicked grin playing on his lips. "We'll see about that."

"What happened to you?" Aoife inquired, noting the flour covering my body and the blood-stained sleeve. I remained silent as I entered the bathing area, untying my boots. "It was that awful?" she prodded, identifying the anger within me and prying to get information from last night's dinner. I pouted at her, silently pleading for her to cease.

She huffed, walked to my armoire, and grabbed more ointment and a bandage. She patted my bed, and I begrudgingly sat next to her. I slipped off my dirtied tunic, noticing that the blood stained my brassiere. She cleaned and patched me silently, which was more of a gift than anything else. She turned me towards her and embraced me with gentleness.

"Happy Founding Day, my dear. And please, be careful with yourself tonight," she said, pointing to my arm. "I don't want you to bloody your new dress…nor would Jesri," she said under her breath.

I eyed the dress hanging on the partition before stretching out on my bed. "Don't worry, Aoife. I won't ruin that beautiful gown. However, perhaps some other lady would be more suited for it," I lamented, tracing the splotched ceiling within my mind.

"No one deserves that gown more than you, my dear," Aoife reassured, rising from her seat and making the bed shift. "Let's get you cleaned up. Jesri wants you to accompany Sir Alder today."

I rolled my eyes and groaned, feeling a wave of disgust wash over me at the mention of him. Just the thought of becoming his pupil made me scream for escape.

I sat up and headed to the wash basin, shedding the rest of my clothes before easing into the warm bath Aoife had already prepared. As I lathered up with soap, the scent of oranges filled the room, calming my troubled thoughts.

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