29
Days slog by. At last, it’s time for my secret meet-up with Myla. Nat and I set up a battle practice area in the Ryder ballroom. Both of us sport human-style workout sweats for the occasion. And so we wait: me, my Master at Arms, and a lot of practice mats on the wooden floor.
“I’m sure she’ll be here soon,” says Nat.
“She will.”
Walker swore it would happen.
And my friend is never wrong.
While we wait for Myla, I throw punches with Nat. Energy streams through my limbs. My girl will be here soon. I can’t wait.
Myla’s voice echoes through the ballroom. “Hello!”
Nat stops and waves. “Hello there!”
Now, I could pause and wave as well. But Nat spent years training me, starting at the ripe old age of four. One of his favorite practices was to get into battle position, call a start,
