Chapter 10
FIRST TRAINING
The comfort does not last.
My new tight training leathers squeak faintly with each movement as I pace back and forth, waiting for Julius. My stomach growls loudly, and I groan. My nerves got the best of me, so I only managed to pick at my lunch.
But before my anxiety can grow even larger, Mathilda walks through the archway, and relief lightens my mood. I’m elated that I won’t have to be out here alone with Julius. Something about him makes me uncomfortable.
“Hi!” I call across the grounds as she heads my way.
She grins widely at me. “I overheard you had your first training today and came to give you moral support.”
“I could kiss you right now. You have no idea how relieved I am that you’re here.”
She giggles and ties up her long, honey hair. During the parade, she wore it down, and the voluptuous curls bounced as we walked, making her appear more feminine. But now, with her tight, high pony, there’s an edge to her features, a warrior’s face.
“What, you’re not a fan of Julius?” she asks, rolling her eyes. Her voice is laced with sarcasm, the tone instantly reminding me of Lachlan.
“Oh my gods,” I squeak. “I thought it was just me! But he’s off-putting, right?”
The relief of hearing like-minded thoughts untangles the knot growing in my stomach. I thought he’d been rude to me because I was a threat to Odessa’s title, but maybe he’s rude in general, and I’m not a target.
“He’s an acquired taste for sure. He’s the only son of a Roman Legate and was born here in Idirhalla,” she replies.
“The only child thing makes total sense,” I murmur. “My parents were terrified I would have only-child syndrome.” She laughs at my joke, and it emboldens me to press on. “It’s weird he’s mated to Odessa because she seems so—nice,” I finish slowly, trying to speak delicately.
“She hasn’t been the same since they became mates. She’s …” Mathilda hesitates, searching for the words. “Distant and very easily irritated.”
My shoulders drop. “I thought I just annoyed her with all my questions.”
Mathilda chuckles. “No, it’s not you. We all used to be close before …” she trails off.
My eyes widen as Tane sneaks up behind her, his arms outstretched, aiming to put her in a headlock.
But before he can, she whirls, dropping into a crouch.
In one swift motion, she kicks out with her leg meant to sweep his legs.
But at the last second, he moves, and she only gets one of his legs.
He wobbles, trying to maintain his balance, and then he stands upright.
Tane grumbles, “I thought I’d get you that time. What tipped you off?”
Mathilda giggles. “I saw your reflection in Lena’s eyes, you oaf.”
Tane slings an arm over her shoulder, and her wings twitch as she adjusts to his weight. He eyes me up and down, his brow severely shadowing his dark brown eyes. He’s very intimidating, and I struggle to meet his eyes.
Instead, I study the elaborate tattoos lining his arms. The swirls and lines are unique to the Maori people.
I remember reading somewhere that their tattoos have something to do with their ancestry, skill, and social rank.
He must’ve been very important, judging by the amount of work and lines that accentuate his brawny arms. He’s a mass of corded muscles.
“Why do you look like that?” he asks me.
Mathilda bumps him with her hip. “We’ve gone over this. You’re a big guy with a grumpy brow. You have to smile or something when you talk.”
Tane grimaces in an attempt at a smile. “Like this?” he speaks through his clenched teeth.
Mathilda giggles. “No. Now you’ll frighten children.”
“Oi, sorry, I mean, you seem different from yesterday,” he says to me, but fake whispers to Mathilda, “Better?”
Mathilda and I share a look before we both laugh. Tane grumbles something about ridiculous women.
“It’s fine. You are right. I am a bit different now. Odessa said it’s because the realm has something to do with it, but whatever it is, I feel amazing.”
I’m about to change the subject and ask them how long they’ve been together when Julius walks up.
His presence ends our conversation. “This doesn’t look like training to me,” he jests, but it comes out harsh.
Tane’s face shifts into something more glowering, and I realize the face I was getting from him was pretty pleasant compared to this.
Mathilda shifts slightly in front of Tane, and his arm slips from her shoulders. “Sorry, that’s our fault,” she says to him before adding, “We’ll take the east sparring ring.”
“Then it looks like we’re left with the west end.” He frowns. “In the shade.”
As if I didn’t like her enough already, I realized that Mathilda picked the sunny portion of the training grounds and had left the shaded side with the refreshments table for me. Gods bless her.
Tane keeps glancing over his shoulder at us as Mathilda drags him to their side of the grounds. I might be mistaken, but a glimmer of worry flickers in his eyes before they are back on her.
“Alright, since I gather you know absolutely nothing about training,” he smirks, “let’s just focus on getting a baseline today to see how much work this is going to take.”
Julius’ lack of confidence isn’t surprising, and if anything, his typical rudeness is kind of boring at this point, so I don’t engage. I only nod.
He frowns at my lack of rebuttal. “Let’s start with some sprints. I’ll mark six lines in the dirt. Sprint to a line and then back to the fence, to the next line and back, until you’ve done each line.”
Julius points to the training ground fence behind me, and I walk towards it, deeper into the shade. He begins drawing lines with his foot in the dirt.
Behind the fence stands a large maple tree.
Its trunk is so large that a single person couldn’t wrap their arms around it.
A weapon is lodged in the trunk of the tree.
It looks to be an ax, but the blade is buried nearly to the hilt, and the tree has started to grow around it.
The shaft of the ax is a work of art, the carved wood depicting an elaborate scene of ravens in various stages of flight.
Julius approaches behind me, having finished marking the lines.
“What’s this?” I ask, pointing at the ax in the tree.
He widens his stance and crosses his arms over his chest, a very defensive stance. “Odin’s ax.”
His reply is curt, obviously not wanting to elaborate, but it doesn’t deter me from asking more questions.
“Why is it here?”
The feathers carved on each raven’s wing are so detailed that you can see the vanes and barbs.
“Because no one has been honorable enough to pull it from the tree.” His words are laced with exasperation.
The urge to grab the hilt and try myself burns through me. But before I can even try, Julius walks to the ax and slaps the hilt. The action is so crude and disrespectful, a taunt to the god who created this realm. I reel back in shock.
But he barks, “Now run!”
I force a neutral expression on my face while breaking into a sprint, racing to the first line and dropping low to tap the line with my hand before running back to the fence.
My breath comes easy, and my muscles seem to vibrate, itching to go faster.
I’ve never been a quick runner, having always enjoyed longer distances instead, so this is a surprise.
This new body revels in the challenge, and I finish the task much quicker than Julius seemed to expect.
I come to a stop in front of him, my breath still steady after hitting all six lines.
Surprise lights his eyes, but he glowers and yells, “Again!”
The sounds of sparring drift to us from where Mathilda and Tane are working together, slower than they were yesterday.
My eyes meet Mathilda’s several times during my sprints, and she throws me an encouraging smile each time.
Tane catches my attention on my last line and even gives me a thumbs-up.
Why couldn’t they train me? They seem much more encouraging, and I feel immensely more comfortable with them than I am with Julius.
When I finish that set, I decide to feign exhaustion and pant slightly. Testing a theory that Julius will relish in my struggle.
Unsurprisingly, it works.
A satisfied smirk tugs the corners of his lips up, but not enough.
“Again,” he growls.
That continues ten more times before the exhaustion becomes real, and he’s finally satisfied with my discomfort.
“Now that I’ve got a baseline for your endurance, let’s see where your strength is. Pushups!” he orders.
He’s getting pleasure from ordering me around. If he had wings, his feathers would be puffed up by the ego trip he’s exhibiting.
Tane and Mathilda are taking a break beside the water table on our side of the training ground. Tane chimes in, “Hey man, you might want to let her grab a drink first.” He raises a water cup in our direction, the glass dripping with condensation. Water sounds amazing right now.
My throat burns from my sawing breath, and my tongue is thick as I work hard to swallow.
Julius waves him off. “On the ground. Now.”
I sink to my knees, and the dirt clings to my pants.
My arms glisten with sweat, and my face burns.
I can only imagine it is bright red from the exertion.
A bead of sweat rolls down my cheek before dropping onto the dirt below me.
Tane sets down his cup and crosses his arms as he leans against the table.
Mathilda assumes the same position, aggravation radiating off both of them in waves.
Once I’m in the pushup position, I raise myself. But a heavy boot slams into my back, shoving me face down into the dirt.
A cry slips from my lips, but not in pain, in shock.
My arms collapse under the weight, and my face strikes hard against the ground. Dirt coats my forearms, exposed midriff, and cheek that slammed into the ground.
I look up from my sprawled position and through the cloud of dust.
Mathilda shoves off the table, but Tane wraps a hand around her arm and tugs her back to him.