The First Time She Fought Back
The training yard sat quiet when I arrived, the kind of quiet that came from use rather than neglect. The ground had been worked into a firm, uneven surface, packed down by years of movement and impact. Scattered marks cut through the dirt where boots had dug in, where bodies had fallen, where force had been tested again and again until it held.
Vaerik stood near the center.
He wasn’t watching the yard. He was watching the entrance.
Me.
“You’re late,” he said.
“I had something to deal with.”
His eyes flicked briefly to my jacket, to where the letter rested, then returned to my face. He didn’t ask.
“Good,” he said. “Then you’re not distracted.”
“That depends on what you’re planning.”
“Nothing complicated,” he replied. “You’re going to use it.”
I ste
