Page 80 of Vengeance Becomes Her

Before they could continue their conversation, Samara arrived. After the tension and uncertainty of the morning, Samara’s bright smile and confident stride brought a welcomed lightness to the group. Rhiannon couldn’t help but gawk at what a transformation she’d undergone in just the last twenty-four hours—from being cowed by her abusive father to glowing as if she were the sun herself.

She felt a returning smile on her own face. Samara’s happiness was contagious. “You seem good. So, everything is okay so far?”

Samara nodded as she took a seat, whipping her navy hood off as she wedged herself on the other side of Rhiannon. “Yes. My mother is, of course, devastated that my father would leave. But I can see the relief in my sisters already. I’m just glad to be out of the house so I can celebrate properly.” She reached over and snatched a potato off of Tristain’s plate.

“I was going to order food. Are you hungry?” Rhiannon asked the women on either side of her.

Both nodded, eyeing one another for a moment before Samara reached out a hand. Kyra took it cautiously. “I’m Samara. And you are?”

“Kyra.” She barely grasped Samara’s hand ina light shake.

Samara’s brow furrowed but Rhiannon gave her a small smile, reassuring her that they just needed time to all get to know each other.

An awkward silence hung in the air while they all ate their food. Thankfully, once they left the inn and started walking, Tristain filled the conversation by going over his plans. They were going to train in the open land that laid beyond the full, round trees outside the town center.

Kyra decided to join them. And while Rhiannon doubted she needed any more skills with a sword, she thought it would be a good opportunity to see what shewas capable of.

Once they arrived, Tristain immediately slipped into his serious instructor persona.

“Let’s get started. You’re going to run the distance between those trees. Then go to the farther one and come back, and so on, until you can’t run anymore.”

“Kyra, Samara, I want you to be mindful of how hard you can push yourself. It’s no help if you’re injured.”

Both women nodded but Rhiannon scoffed.

He turned to her. “I expect you to push yourself, we’ve been too sedentary the last few days. If you want to remain in fighting shape through all of this, you need to continue training and hard.” He arched a brow at her, knowing she couldn’t argue with that logic.

Rhiannon only shot him a glare before yanking the strip of fabric off her wrist and tying her hair up. The thick strands tested the band’s limits, but it served her well. She was grateful it was gradually improving in health, but there was no way she was going to make it through what Tristain had in mind with her hair clinging to her neck and back even if the chill prickled herskin right now.

She would never admit it out loud, but she could feel her lungs working harder than she remembered as she ran to the first tree and back. Tristain was right, she needed the exercise. After about ten minutes she was spent, flinging herself down in the grass. Samara took the opportunity to catch her breath too. While her physique was still toned and strong, she was clearly still affected by the lethargy of Silas’ magic. Kyra, however, continued to run—which Rhiannon hated to admit got under her skin. As she drew sharp breaths, she watched the woman run, muscles flexing under her brown skin with every step.It’s not that she wished Kyra worse off, she only resented how much more Silas’ magic had impacted her.

Tristain’s hovering broke her focus. She closed her eyes to block him out, fruitlessly wishing that he would simply go away and leave her to die of exhaustion. But there was no such luck.

“Rhiannon . . .” His tone was that of an instructor and it only aroused further irritation within her. “You need to stand. You’re going to get cramps.” He extended a hand to her. She accepted and he pulled her up easily enough. “Here, drink some water. You can have another minute, but then we’re moving to the next drill.”

Rhiannon furrowed her brow in displeasure as she drank deeply, but she knew there was no use in resisting. She needed to be able to keep pace as they traveled and, if she was going to be the one to face off against Silas, she’d need every ounce of strength and endurance she could muster.

“Is he always this…intense?” Samara whispered conspiratorially.

Rhiannon laughed. “Yes. Unfortunate in the moment, but it pays off.”

The blond laughed as she tied her own hair up in a massive bun that could barely contain her long tresses.

Tristain snuck up on them, breaking up their moment of comradery. “Back to it, ladies.” He clapped his hands obnoxiously.

Next, they focused on full-body strength. Tristain had them hold a large rock in their hands as they alternated touching their right and left knees to the ground while keeping the other leg ata right angle.

Rhiannon’s arms were immediately burning, and she could see the other women weren’t much better off. While her legs felt strong and sturdy still, her arms were another story. She almost made it to the three-minute mark when her left arm finally gave out, causing the rock to dip and pull her toward the ground. She barely caught herself, tripping two feet forward before regaining her balance.

She couldn’t help but laugh at herself as she looked up and saw Tristain’s poorly concealed grin.

“You alright?” He was now laughing just as hard as she was.

She only nodded, finding herself a bit lost in the warm sound of it. She had forgotten how much she’d enjoyed their training. He always seemed most himself at those times.But then he eyed her rock—wordlessly instructing her to pick it back up—and she was annoyed with him again. When she squatted to pick it back up, she could feel Tristain’s eyes on her back, or more accurately, her ass.

She laughed.

“Something funny?”

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