Chapter 8 Post-Battle Cupcakes
Post-Battle Cupcakes
Kellis led us through a series of stone corridors until we reached a modest guest wing. The rooms were simple—stone walls, basic cots, a washbasin, and a wooden chest for our belongings—but they were clean, and private, and for that I was grateful.
At least I’d have a bed to sleep on as I lived out my final days.
“These will be your quarters during the preparation period,” Kellis said sternly. “Food will be brought to you. If you require anything, speak to the guards posted outside.”
“Guards? Why would we need guards?” I questioned.
Kellis only blinked, staring back at me without saying anything. It was Tarran who answered my questions. “You wouldn’t be the first sky girl to try to escape before the first challenge.”
“Is there anything else you need? I can let them know now before we go to the weaponry.”
“No, its lovely. Very Spartan chic.”
Carl-Two immediately flopped onto one of the cots, bounced once, and declared it satisfactory. Kellis gave us another moment before gesturing again. “Now, come with me.”
He led us to the quartermaster’s hall, a large room filled with racks of weapons—swords, spears, axes, daggers, even things that looked vaguely magical and definitely dangerous. In here, the air was ripe with the smell of steel and oil.
“Select one,” Kellis ordered. “You’ll train with it, and it’ll be yours for the challenge. Choose wisely, because you cannot change your mind.”
I eyed the room with cautious interest. I had no fucking clue what to choose. The closest I’d ever gotten to holding a weapon was one time my mother dragged me to the shooting range when I was ten, but ahe’d said I couldn’t be trusted and only let me watch.
I looked at Tarran and the Carls, all of whom shrugged back at me. “Go with your heart,” Tarran urged, giving me an encouraging smile I met with an eye roll. That was easily one of the least helpful things she’d said so far.
My eyes scanned the rows of dangerous objects as I tried to decide which direction to go with. My first instinct said dagger. Something quick, sharp, that didn’t require biceps like King Damien. A dagger was small, close range. I’d need to be incredibly close to my enemy.
Something tugged at me, an odd shimmer in the back corner of the room, so far back that I almost missed it at first glance. A rack stood mostly empty, save for a single object.
A staff of polished black wood, capped in silver. Elegant. Lightweight. I knew immediately.
“That one,” I said, pointing.
Kellis followed my gaze, eyebrows lifting. “Unusual choice.”
I shrugged.
Tarran moved to stand beside me. “Staffs are versatile, underestimated.”
I smirked. “Just like me.” I was talking out of my ass. Not only was it a weapon I’d never held before, it wasn’t built for damage like the sharp edge of a blade. Still, it felt right.
When Kellis handed me the weapon, it fit snugly in the palm of my hand, and I could just feel I’d made the right choice.
Weapon in hand, we left the hall, following Kellis to the training yard.
It was a wide, open space with sand-covered floors and rows and rows of practice dummies.
Other warriors trained nearby, though all eyes subtly shifted to me as I entered before resuming their practice.
“Three days,” Kellis reminded us. “Train well. The trial won’t be kind.”
“Neither will I,” I muttered, gripping the staff a little tighter.
Kellis gave a sharp nod and, with that, left us alone.
I turned to Tarran and the Carls. “Alright, team. Let’s turn me into someone who doesn’t die horribly in front of an audience.”
Carl-One raised a hand. “Can I be in charge of morale? Violence scares me.”
“Sure,” I said. “You’re in charge of post-battle cupcakes.”
“Excellent,” he said, jotting something down in a tiny notebook he pulled out of nowhere.
Tarran stepped forward, eyes on the staff in my hand. “Let’s begin.”