FREYA
As if I hadn’t already been embarrassed enough.
I was still trying to catch my breath from the endless drills when the trainer barked his next order. His voice cut through the air like a whip.
“We’ll be pairing up now. Each pair will spar one after the other.”
The words dropped into the pit of my stomach like a stone. Spar. Against another person. My lungs tightened. I’d barely survived the stretches and basic drills, and now he wanted me to throw myself into combat?
My heart beat louder with every second, and I prayed—silently, desperately—that maybe I could slip under his radar. Maybe he’d overlook me. Maybe I’d be paired last, and by some miracle, training would end before my turn.
But fate, as always, had a twisted sense of humor.
The trainer’s sharp eyes scanned the line
