*Aria*
My muscles ached in ways I didn’t know they could ache.
That was the first sign things were changing.
The second was that I was getting used to it.
After a week of Rhea and Darius’ particular brand of torture, my body started to adjust. I could last the full set of laps around the yard without feeling like my lungs were going to claw their way out of my throat. I could break out of three specific holds without Darius “letting” me. My knife no longer felt like an awkward prop in my hand, but an extension of it—still small, still humble, but mine.
I wasn’t a fighter.
Not yet.
But I wasn’t helpless anymore either.
The morning sun slanted low across the training field as Rhea and I circled each other, her practice blade glinting dully. Sweat slid down my spine under my tunic, my
