The palace gym at six a.m. was all concrete, metal, and the low thud of fists on pads.
I liked it more than I wanted to admit.
No silk, no chandeliers. Just wolves sweating under fluorescent lighting, the air thick with effort and recycled air. Mirrors along one wall, mats on the floor, a line of heavy bags hanging like patient giants.
Grace tossed a set of wraps at my face. “Hands.”
I caught them, reflexes kicking in before my brain fully woke up. “Good morning to you too.”
“You want to be treated like someone who steps into tunnels with the King,” she said, already wrapping her own knuckles. “You train like it.”
“I did train. Once.” Years ago, under open sky, before the Council decided my best use was as a sacrificial lamb.
“Then we’re waking muscle memory up,” she said. “Before y
