Page 73 of Princess Redeemed
I open my eyes, and through sheer will, I move the stone once more.It wobbles less before rising and coming to me.It drops lightly into my outstretched palm.
I look to Alara, but instead of pride, I see determination in her gaze as she says, “Again.”
I drop the stone…and I begin.
Four more times I lift the stone with my mind, and Alara was correct.It does get easier.
But it’s still difficult.
“We’re going to try another exercise,” she says.“I’ll create a phantom opponent for you, and you will fight him.”
I turn to her.“You think I need to learn to fight?I took on three men at once outside The London in Las Vegas.”
“I believe your wolf saved you that night.”
“I held my own, Alara.Fighting isn’t something I need help with.I’m a third-degree blackbelt in Taekwondo.My axe kick is legendary.”I whip my right leg until it’s nearly parallel with my body and bring it down with awhompthrough the air.
“Your form is beautiful,” she assures me.“But do not become complacent, Hannah.”Alara waves her hand and before me is a gray form made of smoke.
The figure lunges at me, and in a flash I’ve landed on my ass on the hard ground.
“What the fuck, Alara?”
“I told you not to get complacent.This phantom opponent can’t feel pain, and he can anticipate every move you make.”She waves her arm again, and the phantom disappears.“Are you ready?”
Alara moves across the dark chamber, and her voice echoes off the ancient rock.She has no intention of offering me any warning.
Just as well.I won’t get any warning if I’m jumped.
I square my shoulders, every muscle primed for the challenge ahead.
Alara gestures, and the phantom appears once more, this time with eyes red as my stepfather’s.Wrath rises inside me, and I lunge forward, feet skidding on the gritty floor.I slice my fist through the air, toward my ghostly opponent.But the smoky silhouette moves with lethal grace.
“A living being can’t move like that,” I say, panting.“This is?—”
Alara interrupts me.“You haven’t encounteredeveryliving being, Hannah.This will train you to fight—and win—against anyone.Any two or any three.”
“I didn’t do so badly against the three in the alley,” I grumble, but before I can grouse anymore, the phantom strikes a blow to the side of my head.
I land on my ass once more, this time seeing stars.
I stand, squaring my shoulders once more.No conjured enemy will defeat me.Not this one, not any one, and certainly not anything I’ll encounter in the world.
I curl my fingers, drawing the phantom toward me.“Bring it on, bitch.”
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The phantom rushes me.Its blows are swift, relentless—a storm of violence that would take out anyone less determined, less desperate to protect her unborn child.
I evade one, two, three attacks, only to lose my footing in the onslaught and fall hard onto my back.Pain races up my spine, but I grit my teeth and roll away before the phantom can land another hit.
I return to my feet again, sweat dripping from every pore.
I’m not done.Not yet.
“You’ll get a good fight out of me,” I growl.
The phantom paces around me.Though it has no face, still it grins—a malicious sneer that I feel slithering over me.
