Estelle

I couldn’t sleep at all last night. I kept replaying the moments in the field repeatedly. Clarisse fell asleep so fast, I was envious of her.

A knock at the door made her shuffle in her sheets, so I quickly went to open the door. To my surprise, Damien was there.

“Hello?”

Damien smiled cheerfully. “Mornin’, Sunshine.” He leaned on the doorframe. “Ready for training?”

Those three words woke me up faster than anything else could’ve. “Training?”

He nodded. “Natasha wants you prepared for anything, and I admit that I thought it’d be fun to watch you try to fight.”

Heat raised in my cheeks as I realized I was still in my pajamas.

Sheepishly, I asked, “Can I take a quick shower?”

“Be my guest.”

***

Damien was in the Training Room, looking over the swords. I wanted to run away the second I entered the room, but he already noticed I was there.

“Ready?”

I nodded, disobeying every single nerve in my body that said differently. He smiled approvingly.

“We’re going to start with hand-to-hand combat first,” he told me. “I need to see what you need to improve on.”

I already knew I needed to improve on everything. It’s not like I was just fighting people all the time. My ribs were already aching in anticipation.

He must’ve seen the unsteadiness in me because he added, “Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you too bad. We also have the best menders ever.”

I saw his leg move but couldn’t get myself to move in time.

“Are you sure that you don’t have super strength?” I winced and clutched my side where he’d kicked me.

Damien chuckled, but he looked concerned for a moment. The concern was there in a flash, and then it wasn’t.

“You need to dodge and attack,” he instructed. “If you just stand there, you’ll absolutely be hit.”

I lunged, tried to kick him, but he grabbed my leg and threw me down. Pain flared through me. I was going to have bruises for days.

“Better,” he commented. I saw red and charged at him. My sudden attack caught him off-guard, so I was able to knock him to the floor.

I got one hit before he had somehow flipped me over and now was on my. He held his hand out to help me up, but I instinctively punched him. My stomach clenched at the sight of blood on my fists. His blood.

I rolled away and noticed he was kneeling, feeling his nose with an undefinable expression. I hurried over to him, feeling the guilt hit me.

“Are you okay?”

When he started laughing, I wanted to get the nurses. Blood was trickling down his nose, but he was laughing like he’d just heard a funny joke.

“Don’t worry about me,” he said, noticing me staring at his possibly broken nose. “I’m proud of you. I hadn’t expected that last punch.”

I grinned smugly. “Don’t underestimate me.”

That got another chuckle out of him. “I guess I won’t again.” He groaned as a hand shot back to his injured nose. “I will need the menders to heal me, though.”

I helped him to his feet, and we walked to the hospital wing. Despite passing several private training sessions, we walked through the building telling jokes and laughing loudly.

When we arrived at the hospital wing, a woman saw us and walked over, shaking her head. She wore bright red lipstick and was chewing her gum aggressively. She didn’t seem like someone who’d be a doctor.

“What’d you do now, Greene?” she asked him accusingly. Her accusation was said in a nice Southern accent. How many times has he had to come here?

Damien held his hands up defensively. “Wasn’t entirely my fault this time.” He pointed at me. “She landed a good punch, and I paid the price.”

I must’ve looked incredibly confused because the woman held out her hand and said, “I’ Ivy, darlin’. I heal most of Damien’s typically self-inflicted wounds.” She gasped and started walking away. “Speaking of, follow me.”

She led us into a small room where she had Damien lying down on a hospital bed. She flexed her hands as she leaned over his body.

“You might want to cover your ears,” she told me. “It’s not exactly pretty.”