Chapter 23
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
They won’t let me see him. Arlo. Not even a week after the incident. I ask Aramis about it, but he tells me his current state is critical, no visits allowed. But he’s stable, so I hold on to that.
I spent most of my early mornings training with Conláed, although I haven’t thrown any punches or learned how to actually defend myself.
We keep running and breathing, running and breathing.
He tried to let me run outside once, said the cold air might do wonders for my laboured breathing.
I nearly fell after two whole minutes, unable to see the hidden branches covered by snow.
But I am improving, even if the progress is slow. My pace doesn’t slow down until ten minutes in and I don’t feel like coughing up a lung anymore. He also added some core exercises, saying I definitely need those too. Nothing too labouring, but it does make my muscles ache.
He is still a smug, hot bastard. And I can’t count how many times I’ve wanted to throw something at his face. Hard. His arrogant confidence makes my blood boil. But oh, when his eyes connect with mine. I can’t breathe. And it’s not because of my terrible physical condition.
I’m headed over there now. He expects me at six o’clock sharp every day. One day, I was five minutes late, and he made sure I knew it too. It was the second time I was late and he didn’t go easy on me. He said if I can stay in bed five minutes longer, I can work harder in the dojo as well.
The training ends at nine, which my aching muscles are grateful for. It makes me appreciate the shower afterwards even more. My delightful shower session is followed by breakfast number two or maybe I should call it brunch. Because yes, three hours of training does make me hungry again.
I get one hour of Apothecary training by Mrs Bloomhart, who I sometimes catch staring at me in wonder. I learn how you make a balm and a herbal syrup. It sounds easy, but you can’t rush the process and after one week, I haven’t successfully created…anything.
I spent my afternoons with Aramis or Siri, equally as joyous and relaxing, especially in comparison to the mornings I used to have at Anima.
Siri teaches me all there is to learn about the greenlife.
I marvel at all the knowledge she already has.
Sometimes we eat in the greenhouse when we’re too caught up in our tasks at hand.
I don’t know how I survived this long without digging my hands in the dirt or watering plants, it is very therapeutic.
And when I’m with Aramis, everything feels so easy. We sometimes help with the meal packages, or we go for a walk around the domain. Somehow, he always knows exactly what to say, how to make me laugh. The real laugh, one that I haven’t heard in a long while.
Whenever our skin meets, totally by accident, a tingling sensation travels up my arm. But it happens with Siri as well. It’s not that it is unpleasant, but I never had this at Anima before. Maybe it’s something in the air here?
Aramis fills the gap Ami left, they both do actually. And although it still pains my heart to know she isn’t around anymore and I end up crying myself to sleep nearly every night, they both are a balm that soothes the pain.
The other students are polite and say hi, some might ask me how I’m doing. It’s small talk, but never a deep conversation or with the intention to really get to know me. I am still fairly new, so it makes sense. And I don’t mind that much, I am grateful for Aramis and Siri.
I’ve reached the dojo, ten minutes earlier than I need to be and start warming up.
“Come.”
I nearly jump out of my skin at Conláed’s voice ripping through the peace and quiet, breaking my concentration. I’ve had enough of him treating me this way. “You know, I’m not your dog, asshole.” Whoa. Did I really just say that? I’m a second away from taking back my words.
He smirks. Smirks. “So she does have claws.”
I narrow my eyes. Okay, not the reaction I was expecting. “If you want me to come, you should ask nicely.”
Never thought in a million years I would give instructions to a handsome man. I stifle a giggle, I kind of like it.
His hand goes to his mouth, thumb whipping under his bottom lip as if he’s trying to hide away his laugh.
Of course, he thinks this is funny.
“Would you please come over, your majesty?”
You got to be kidding me.
I’m not dealing with this, I’ve had enough. This has been going on for the whole week and it is what I’m used to, but my life here feels different and I won’t let him ruin it.
I put my shoes back on and walk towards him, only to pass him by and head for the exit.
A calloused hand around my wrist stops me, the familiar sting of energy flowing through me. “I’m just kidding, feather. Please stay.”
I yank my wrist free, heart pounding like it might tear through my chest. “It isn’t funny, Conláed, not at all.
You know, for five years I’ve dealt with dickheads like you, pointing nasty fingers and making fun of me, for the way I look or for no reason whatsoever.
For who I am as a person. I’ve only been here for two weeks, but everyone is so kind, no one’s rude or mean or makes jokes about how I look burned and wrong.
” I close the distance between us and jab my finger into his chest a couple of times.
“I’m done with men like you, who think so highly of themselves and stand above everyone else.
I’m sorry you had to teach someone as disgusting as me.
I will train on my own until Master Sturmsong is back. I won’t bother you anymore. Goodbye.”
I will probably regret this immensely later, but right now it feels so good and I honestly can’t be bothered by it. The way his expression shifted from smug confidence to all seriousness. Wonderful, really.
I make it up the stairs and nearly reach the top, when I bump into a firm, muscled chest. Hands land on my waist to steady me, not a moment too late since the proximity of a male body nearly makes me fall down the stairs. And that would be very unfortunate.
My eyes move upward — damn he is tall — until they meet his intense golden gaze. Anger fuels me, but with his perfectly tousled dark brown curls and strong jaw another feeling runs through me. One that overrules the anger. And that scent of him. So fucking devine.
But that’s not what makes my anger evaporate.
It’s the way he's looking at me right now. Gone is the arrogant male I’m used to, he actually looks…
remorseful. “I apologise. I didn’t mean to hurt or insult you.
That was never my intention. It’s just, you're so…” The right corner of his mouth tips up. “Different.”
I stiffen, my anger instantly back, yet I am very aware of the hands that still rest on my waist. “Gee, Conláed, I wasn’t aware of that, but thank you for reminding me. Now, can you please let me go, I have other places to be where people don’t judge me.”
Trying to get free of those hands is like blowing against a brick wall and hoping it will fall down. Completely useless. He tightens his hands even more. But not in a painful way.
“That came out wrong. What I mean is, you’re like a breath of fresh air when you’ve been inhaling the musty stench of mold for ages. You set something on fire inside of me.”
My heart skips a bit and something coils inside of my stomach. What did he just say? His eyes seem to burn with intensity. “Did you hit your head?”
He looks for a moment longer, scanning my face as if he’s searching something. Eventually, he closes his eyes and he smirks. He lets go of my waist and steps to the side. “I didn’t, but will you come back down with me? I thought we could do some more interactive training today.”
The stubborn part of me really wants to say no. But if he can get over himself, so can I. And the thought of interactive training lights a fire within me as well. But I won’t say that out loud.
Without a word, I turn around and walk down the stairs. I look back over my shoulder, noticing he’s still standing there like a statue. “Are you coming, or what?”
I don’t wait to see if he follows, but take the last steps down and take off my shoes again. No other students have entered yet, so we have the dojo all to ourselves.
He’s standing in the centre of the mat, patiently waiting for me to come closer. I do, curious to see what he’s got in mind.
“Punch me.”
Uh, not what I was expecting. “I’m sorry, what?”
“Hit me, you’ve got some anger inside of you. Let it out.”
“I…” He raises a brow as if to say ‘are you scared?’. “Fine, sure. I can do that.”
Without thinking too much about it I throw my fist at his face, my stance wavering as he moves away easily. “Again.”
I make the same movement, but aiming for his throat this time. He blocks my hand. It goes on like that for a couple of times, sweat already soaks my T-shirt. I somehow get close to hitting him, which surprises me, but he evades just in time again and again.
“Have you had training before?”
I stop punching. “Not that I know of. Why?”
He looks me up and down, not in a judging way but more appreciative. “You are weak, you barely have any muscles and because of that your balance is off too.” Here we go again with the flattery. “But, your technique isn’t too bad. We can work with that.”
With that being said, he takes me through one of the doors that lead into a huge mirrored room where weights and multiple fancy looking fitness equipment are placed. He shows me the exercise and adjusts my stance or movement if needed.
I somehow don’t recoil from his touch, although I do notice how every time he touches me, my skin burns in a delightful way and a little rush of energy goes through my body.
After an hour - maybe more - of lifting, my arms don’t belong to me and my legs are trembling endlessly. A towel lands against my face and I barely manage to catch it. I pat away the sweat and take the glass of water Conláed offers me.