Chapter 4 #3
“As Private Frank showed us, you do not only learn by winning. You also learn by failing and understanding your failures. Next time she and I spar, she will be better, and that is what I want.”
Taylor and her next contender prepare to parry, and her fan skitters over to me. “Is it true Eos is training you one-on-one?” she asks, an endearing mix of jealousy and interest in her tone.
“That’s right. News travels fast, huh?”
“It’s pretty big news. She hasn’t trained recruits since the invasion.” The invasion? Presumably the invasion of the Southeast region, where Taylor was busy garroting old men and shooting children.
“You can count me amongst the surprised.” Surprised being a massive understatement. She can’t imagine how surprised I am to find my deft dancing partner is my and Papa’s would-be killer. Or the surprise at how easy it is for me not to hate her the way I should.
Without taking her eyes off Taylor, she continues, “She’s a living legend around here.”
“So I hear. What’s the ten-man challenge, anyway?” I’ve got a lot of ideas about what it could be, but I’m not sure the answer lies in the gutter where my mind resides.
“Oh, boy. Well, every so often Theia hosts competitions in camp to keep people’s spirits up.
The ten-man challenge is the hardest. One person has to take down ten challengers in a single round.
It’s always unarmed, like sparring. Except it gets intense and people get hurt a lot.
Barely anyone finishes the challenge once.
Last year, Eos did it three times in a row.
Thirty soldiers taken down in thirty-six minutes.
” The young soldier sighs dreamily. “I’d kill for her to show me how she does it. How did you get so lucky?”
Lucky. By accident of birth, I’m the sole heir to the second-largest fortune in the country. Through no fault—okay, maybe some fault—of my own, I’m the kidnapped ward of a terrifying warrior. Not sure luck has anything to do with it. I answer her question as honestly as possible. “I don’t know.”
A shout brings our attention back to the fight.
Taylor’s contender is frustrated and swearing, unable to land his meaty fists on his agile superior.
He backs away, edging toward the circle.
His footfalls get quieter and quieter behind her, until it’s clear Taylor can no longer hear him.
The man barrels toward her, arms tight around his chest as he prepares to bowl her down.
Cringing in anticipation, I watch through narrow slits.
Taylor spins and crouches down, catching the man by his hips and hefting him onto her shoulder.
With strength and his momentum, she stands up straight and flips him over her back.
With a mighty yell he goes sprawling onto the dirt, smacking his chin against the hard ground.
Taylor kicks him onto his back, looming over him and cocking her head to the side. Yanking off her blindfold, she chucks it on the ground. “Yield?”
He doesn’t look her in the eyes. “Yeah, whatever.”
Taylor is displeased with this response, but backs up and helps him to his feet.
“Anticipation can save your life. Keep aware of your surroundings, and you will always have an advantage. Remember the four A’s: anticipation, awareness, agility, and accuracy.
If you have all four you can take down any foe, no matter their size. ”
The man she bested from the circle scrambles after her once her back is turned.
I take a half step in an ill-advised warning, but Private Frank snatches my wrist and shakes her head.
Taylor breaks into a run and leaps up to grab a nearby tree branch, catching his head between her thighs.
She wrenches him around with her hips and they both go crashing to the ground.
He lands flat on his stomach, arm tucked beneath his barrel chest, mouth full of grass and twigs.
Taylor braces her weight on her knees and gets up, wiping dirt off her pants.
“Pair off and do more drills. I want to see good footwork.” She casts a disparaging glance down at the man. “Private Harrison, report to PFC Lopez. Tell him I want you to do ten laps, then report to the infirmary for your arm.”
“But I think I broke it,” he protests and climbs to his feet, cradling his arm with a pitiful expression.
Taylor’s eyes squint and take on a darkened quality. “The moment you yield, the exercise is over. You broke the rules, Private, and that is embarrassing, as well as cause for disciplinary action. Do you really need to see the medic?”
“Yeah.”
Taylor’s face goes blank. “Excuse me?”
He ducks his head. “I mean, yes, Captain.”
“Then I suggest you run those laps as fast as you can.”
Private Harrison takes off, still holding his left arm. Standing beside Taylor, I try not to stare too hard at the flush spread across her cheeks and the top of her chest. “That’s harsh, Captain.”
“He lied on his yield and his arm is not broken. Sprained, at best. I know Private Harrison. He’s embarrassed because he lost to a woman. I have neither the time nor the patience to assuage his fragile ego. War knows no gender.”
“‘The enemy is anyone who is going to get you killed, no matter which side he’s on.’”
“What’s that from?”
“Catch-22. Not a lot of copies of it survive.” Except mine, with its worn, cerulean blue cover, soft and malleable beneath my fingertips. Tattered pages with other people’s notes scribbled between the text. I miss my books. “It’s about World War Two. You’d probably like it.”
Taylor hums in thought. “I do not want any soldier here to think they are invincible. Or, for that matter, any soldier to think they are weak because of their size.” She nods to where two of the soldiers are sparring, one of whom being the blond fan of Taylor’s.
“Training is rarely about fighting. It is observation, survival, seeing the world through your talents and knowing what you are capable of. They can do what I did without my fifteen years of training.”
“Fifteen years,” I repeat in shock. “How’s that possible? You don’t even look eighteen.”
“I’m nineteen,” she says stiffly. “This has been my life since I was born. Most recruits arrive as teenagers or adults. I am an exception.”
“Jesus. Well, it looks like they may need those fifteen years of training if they come across someone like you. Not one of them laid a hand on you. You’re not just an exception. You are exceptional.”
She ducks her gaze. “No, I am not. I have simply had more practice. You watched what those guards on your roof did to me.”
Sure, before she promptly killed them. I nudge her in the shoulder. “You mean there’s a chance I’ll see you get your ass kicked again?”
Taylor rolls her eyes and departs my company to weave in and out of the pairs of recruits and dispense advice, which is taken with rapt attention.
Their ages range from slightly younger than her to significantly older, but it doesn’t appear to matter, as everyone is equally entranced by her presence.
It’s like when Papa would inspect the grounds of a factory or entertain Force members.
People would exalt him, stopping shy of genuflecting in his presence.
Nobody told me to do anything, so I lean against a nearby tree trunk and pick at the pills in my sweater. Private Frank jogs to me, and I look into her familiar, bubbly face. “Hey, Private Frank.”
“Hey. I didn’t catch your name before.”
Theia did say they weren’t going to hide me. “Lucy. Piccolo.”
“Okay. Well, we were wondering if you wanted to spar with us. Me and Private Bernard.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” I reply, casting a glance at Taylor, who approaches warily from the side. “I’m not very good. I’ll slow you down.”
“What? No. I mean, I’m good, but he’s terrible. Besides, if you’ve been training with Eos, you must be pretty decent, right?” The young soldier straightens up when Taylor arrives beside us. “Would it be okay, Captain, if we trained with Private Piccolo?”
“Sure. Get to it.” She pauses to drag her eyes up and down my uniform with a wry smile and a dry chuckle.
“Private Piccolo.” The way she manages to look both irritatingly smug and teasingly innocent is almost as disconcerting as my complete lack of defense against it.
She fixes her gaze on the patient soldier between us. “Do not go easy on her, Private Frank.”
The recruit’s back goes rigid, a borderline insulted look crossing her cherubic face. “Of course not, Captain.”
Taylor’s attention is called away by other recruits, so I follow Private Frank to where she and Private Bernard have staked out some soft grass to spar in. “This is Private Bernard. B, this is Private Piccolo. She’s training with Eos.”
“Oh, yeah?” Private Bernard tilts his head. He’s an attractive man in his early twenties with a swath of jet-black hair and a scraggly reddish beard, as well as a set of piercing blue eyes. “Piccolo, like Leader Piccolo?”
“Do I look like Leader Piccolo to you?”
Private Bernard crosses his arms. “Does your daddy know you’re here?”
“I imagine he would, seeing as he was there when I was kidnapped.” My words shock Private Frank, who apparently had not made the connection earlier. “Is this going to be a problem?”
He shakes his head. “Not at all. Looking forward to kicking the ass of Leader Piccolo’s precious princess.”
“Don’t be a jerk, Bernard,” Private Frank says. “She just said she got kidnapped.”
“Yeah, from her mansion, where she lives with her servants and shit. Boo fucking hoo.” Private Bernard glances around at the other recruits and points across the grounds toward Taylor.
“Guess that’s why you’re not getting torn to pieces.
Even in here you got more privilege than the rest of us.
” He gets right into my face and sneers.
“I can’t wait to put your father in the ground.
And you with him, for all I fucking care. ”