“We won’t be doing this all morning. It’s just a warm-up. There’s target practice later.”
“Micah Star, clearly, you aren’t occupied enough. Why don’t we move this to a series of sprints instead?” Rowan announces. I hear the collective groan, but all I can do is be thankful for the extra few seconds to recover.
The heat in my cheeks glows, and we’ve barely completed half a lap.
“Line up. Sprint across to the first dissection, turn, then sprint to the second.” Rowan calls out his orders, and I follow everyone.
“Sorry,” Micah murmurs under his breath. “But this doesn’t count for anything. Not really. It’s just good for us. At least, that’s what they keep telling me.”
“Why don’t you just shut your mouth before you do some real damage, hey, Star?” A big guy with broad shoulders, tanned skin, and muscles for days, someone I think I recognise from the dinner, shouts at Micah, who visibly shrinks for a moment.
“It’s probably best if I do.” I can’t tell if he’s being smart with the big guy.
“Go!”
Everyone races off, and I’m already on the back foot. Pushing my legs to move faster than they are feels impossible. They start to feel wobbly before I’ve even reached the first line. But I keep going, forcing them. Pushing through the strain in the muscles that have never needed to work like this before.
Micah is a few paces in front, and I focus all my effort on covering the distance to tie with him. My jaw clenches, and I swing my arms harder, trying… hard… to make it.
We cross the first curved line of the circle, stop, and change direction. We’re the last ones off for the second sprint, and it feels like my lungs are going to burst out of my chest already. But I don’t give in. I can’t.
Up, down, drive, drive.
Until I’m back level with Micah. My eyes lift and focus in front, and I see Ten watching me, and the heat in my cheeks burns to life.
And the next thing I know, I’m passing him, my stride carrying too much momentum, and I sail past where the others have all finished, waiting, without so much as a bead of sweat.
I slow to a stop. My throat is as dry as the ground we’re running on, my lungs heave, and I want to collapse on the floor. Instead, I swallow down the gulps of air I need and try to regulate my thrumming heat. Slowly in. Slowly out.
“Again!” Rowan calls.
And I watch everyone jump into action, racing back the way we just came.
And I want to cry.
twelve
. . .
Ever
I’m not cut out for this.
“Come on, Ever!” Micah encourages as he keeps going. He’s last, clearly struggling, although not at the same rate I am, but he’s still got a smile on his face, and it’s a little infectious.
I force my weak and shaky legs into action and catch him up, thanks to him jogging on the spot.
I keep my head up and avoid eye contact with everyone as we run, giggling across the line where we all started.
Please, no more. No more running,I silently beg.
“Ever, I see you need to do some work on your fitness. We expect all trainees to be Warrior fit. Not being from Kirrasia, we’ll expect you to right this over the coming weeks.” Rowan nods at me.
My anger unfurls within my chest as I take in his words. How is that fair? Will I be subjected to this in all my classes? I’m at a disadvantage because I didn’t know anything about Kirrasia until a couple of days ago, and now I’ll have to work twice ashard to catch up or be punished or embarrassed in front of everyone.
My mind spins off into a panic at the prospect.
“Again! No stopping. There and back.” Rowan obviously didn’t hear my internal plea from a moment ago.
