Chapter 11 Training Begins
The punch came from nowhere.
One second I was standing. The next, the world tilted sideways and my cheek exploded with pain. I hit the ground hard enough to taste copper.
"Again."
I spat blood. "I didn't even see..."
"Exactly. Your enemies won't announce themselves." Morwenna's boots appeared in my blurred vision. "Get up."
My body screamed no. Every muscle begged me to stay down. To quit. To go back to bed where Kaelix was sleeping off his injuries and I could pretend today wasn't happening.
But the black veins spreading across his chest flashed in my mind. The way they'd crept up his neck during the fight. The clock ticking down on both our lives.
I got up.
"Good girl." Was that approval in her voice?
"Now..."
Her fist came again. This time I saw it. Barely. Ducked left instead of right like instinct screamed. Her knuckles whistled past my ear instead of breaking my nose.
"BETTER!" Morwenna actually smiled. "You're thinking now. Not just reacting."
Thinking felt impossible when adrenaline made my hands shake and blood dripped from my split lip. But I raised my fists anyway. Tried to remember the stance she'd beaten into me over the past three days.
She attacked again.
I blocked. Barely. My forearm went numb from the impact.
She swept my legs.
I went down. Again. The dirt didn't taste any better the fifteenth time.
"Your balance is shit," Morwenna said. Not cruel. Clinical. "You're top-heavy. Leading with emotion instead of center."
"I'm leading with desperation," I gasped, pushing myself up. My arms trembled. "There's a difference."
"Not in a fight. Desperation gets you killed."
"Then what gets you alive?"
She studied me. Really looked. Like she was seeing past the bruises and blood to something underneath.
"Anger," she said finally. "Controlled anger. The kind that burns cold instead of hot. The kind that makes you precise."
"I don't know how to be angry and controlled."
"Then learn. Fast. Because in three weeks, you'll face Seraphine again. And she'll kill you if you're still fighting like a terrified girl instead of a warrior."
Three weeks. The curse deadline. The ritual. Everything.
Fear tried to claw up my throat. I shoved it down. Morwenna was right, fear wouldn't save Kaelix. Only strength would.
"Again," I said.
This time, I didn't wait for her to attack. I moved first.
She blocked easily. But surprise flickered across her face.
"Good," she murmured. "Very good."
We trained until sweat and blood made my clothes stick to my skin. Until every breath felt like inhaling broken glass. Until I blocked more hits than I took.
Small victories. But victories.
When Morwenna finally called a break, I didn't collapse this time. Just bent over, hands on knees, gasping.
Progress.
"Drink." She tossed me a waterskin. I caught it, another small miracle. Three days ago, I would've missed.
The water tasted like heaven and dirt. I didn't care.
"You're not terrible anymore," Morwenna said. She sat on a fallen log, not even winded. "Still not good. But not terrible."
"That might be the nicest thing you've ever said to me."
"Don't get used to it."
But she was smiling. Slight. Almost invisible. But there.
I sat beside her, every muscle protesting. We didn't talk. Just existed in the morning light filtering through ancient trees. Birds sang somewhere above us. The world kept turning despite everything burning down around us.
"She was terrible at this too," Morwenna said suddenly. "Your mother. First time I tried to teach her combat, she cried."
My chest tightened. "Really?"
"Sobbed like I was killing her. Said she didn't understand why anyone would want to hurt each other on purpose." Morwenna's voice went soft. Distant. "She was too gentle for this world. Too kind."
"But she survived seventeen years imprisoned. That takes strength."
"Different kind of strength. The kind that doesn't break even when breaking would be easier." She looked at me. "You have both. Her gentleness and your father's steel. That's what makes you dangerous."
"I don't feel dangerous. I feel like I'm drowning."
"Same thing, sometimes. The drowning person fights hardest." She stood, offering her hand. "Come on. We're done with combat for today. Time for the real training."
"That wasn't the real training?"
"That was learning how to survive. Now you learn how to win."
The afternoon session was worse.
Not physically. Magically.
Elysande led this part. She took me to a grove where the trees were older than empires.
Ancient. Watching. Alive in ways that made my skin prickle.
"Wild magic is emotion," she explained. We sat in the center, surrounded by those watchful trees. "Show me joy."
"What?"
"Feel joy. Let your magic show me."
"I don't feel joyful. I feel terrified and exhausted and..."
"Then manufacture it. Think of something that makes you happy."
I closed my eyes. Searched for joy in the chaos of my life.
Found Kaelix. The way he'd looked at me this morning when he thought I was still sleeping. Soft. Vulnerable. Like I was something precious instead of a burden.
Warmth bloomed in my chest. My magic responded, gentle, reaching out.
When I opened my eyes, flowers had sprouted around us. Small, white, delicate.
"Good," Elysande said. "Now show me anger."
Anger was easier. I thought of Seraphine. Of her twisted face when she'd hurt my mother. Of the curse killing Kaelix. Of being sold at auction like cattle.
Thorns erupted from the flowers. Black. Sharp. Deadly.
"Better. Now fear."
I tried. Thought of losing Kaelix. Of the ritual failing. Of dying together with nothing accomplished.
Nothing happened.
The magic retreated. Curled up inside me. Refused to answer.
"Interesting," Elysande murmured. "Your magic protects you from fear. Rare. Very rare."
"Is that good or bad?"
"Both. Means you're powerful... magic strong enough to shield you from your own terror. But also means when you finally feel fear that breaks through that shield, you'll be vulnerable. Powerless."
"So I have a magic shield that only works until it doesn't. Great."
"All power has weakness. Yours is less problematic than most." She gestured at the flowers and thorns still blooming around us. "You have natural talent. Raw power. Given time, you could rival your grandmother."
"I don't want to rival anyone. I just want to save Kaelix and my mother... and not die."
"Same thing, sometimes. The strongest survive."
We practiced for hours. Joy creating growth. Anger creating thorns. Sadness creating wilting. Love creating... something else.
Something that made the ancient trees lean toward me like I was sun and they were starving.
By sunset, I could make flowers bloom without thinking. Small victory. But I'd take it.
"Tomorrow, we work on combat magic," Elysande said as we walked back. "Using growth as a weapon. Vines as chains. Thorns as blades."
"Can't wait," I muttered.
She laughed. Actually laughed. "You remind me of Aria when she was young. Same sarcasm hiding fear. Same strength pretending to be weakness."
"Everyone keeps saying I remind them of her. I don't remember enough to know if that's true."
"It's true. You have her eyes. Her spirit. Her stubborn refusal to quit even when quitting would be smarter." Elysande's expression softened. "She'd be proud of you. What you're doing for the Shadow Lord. The risks you're taking."
"She'd probably think I'm insane."
"That too. But proud insanity. The best kind."
We reached the palace as the sun set. I was exhausted. Filthy. Bruised everywhere.
And I'd never felt more alive.
Evening found me in the courtyard. Alone. Trying to process everything.
I'd been at the Wild Court less than a week. But it felt like years. Like I'd lived entire lifetimes in these few days.
Training. Fighting. Learning I was royalty. That my mother was alive. That I was dying alongside Kaelix.
Too much. All of it too much.
"You look like hell."
I turned. Kaelix stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame like standing took effort. It probably did. The curse was eating him alive.
"You should be resting," I said.
"So should you. But here we are."
He crossed to me slowly. Each step measured. Careful. Like his body might betray him.
When he reached me, I saw the new black veins. They'd spread to his temples. His hands. Everywhere.
We were running out of time.
"How was training?" he asked.
"Brutal. Morwenna beat me unconscious. Elysande made me cry. Normal Tuesday."
"Sounds fun."
"A blast." I touched his face gently. Traced one of the veins. "How are you?"
"Dying. But slowly. So that's something."
"Don't joke about it."
"If I don't joke, I'll scream. And I doubt your grandmother would appreciate screaming in her courtyard."
Fair point.
We stood together as twilight deepened. Not talking. Just existing. Feeling the bond pulse between us, awareness and worry and something deeper.
"I saw you training earlier," he said finally.
"From the window."
"Spying on me?"
"Admiring you. There's a difference." His hand found mine. "You're getting stronger. Faster. I watched you land a hit on Morwenna. That's... that's incredible."
"She probably let me."
"She didn't. I know her fighting style. You actually got through her guard." Pride colored his voice. "You're becoming formidable."
"I'm becoming desperate. There's a difference."
"Not really. Desperate women change the world."
I leaned into him. Let him take some of my weight. Let myself be weak for just a moment.
"I'm scared," I whispered.
"So am I."
"What if I'm not strong enough? What if I train for three weeks and still can't protect you? Can't save you?"
"Then we fail together. But at least we tried."
"That's not comforting."
"I know. But it's true." He kissed the top of my head. "You're doing everything possible. Training until you drop. Pushing yourself past limits. That's all anyone can ask."
“It doesn’t feel like enough.”
“I know,” he whispered, voice tight with unshed tears. “It never does. But it’s what we have… and it’s real.”
We stayed like that until full dark. Until our stomachs demanded food and our bodies demanded rest.
"Come on," Kaelix said. "Let's get you cleaned up. You smell like blood and determination."
"Romantic."
"I try."
Later, after bathing and eating and pretending we weren't both dying, we lay in bed together.
Not sleeping. Just holding each other in the dark.
"Kaelix?" I whispered.
"Hmm?"
"Teach me to fight. Your way. Shadow Court style."
He went still. "Why?"
"Because Morwenna teaches me Wild Court methods. Elysande teaches me magic. But you... you've survived three hundred years of people trying to kill you. You know things they don't."
"I'm not exactly in fighting shape."
"So teach me theory. Tactics. Whatever you can." I propped myself up on one elbow. "Please. I need every advantage I can get."
He observed me in the darkness. Then nodded slowly. "Alright. Tomorrow night. After your other training. I'll teach you everything I know."
"Promise?"
"Yeah... I Promise."
I settled back against him. "Thank you."
"For what?"
"For treating me like I can do this. Like I'm strong enough."
"You are strong enough. Stronger than you know."
"How can you be sure?"
"Because I've seen you survive impossibilities. Being sold. Nearly killed. Cursed. And you're still here. Still fighting. That's not weakness. That's the strongest thing there is."
His words sank into my chest like a weight, heavy, lingering, and impossible to ignore.
Maybe I was strong. Maybe all the training and pain and fear was making me into someone who could actually survive this.
Or maybe I was just too stubborn to die.
Either way, I'd take it.
"Elara?" Kaelix's voice was soft. Almost hesitant.
"Yeah?"
"I'm glad you're here. With me. Even though it's killing you. Even though you should hate me. I'm glad you're here."
"So am I."
"Really?"
"Because being with you... even dying with you... is still better than facing this world alone. Better than the life I used to call mine.
I kissed his jaw, my voice low and shaky. "You saved me in more ways than just the ritual. You made me believe I was worth saving."
He held me tighter, like letting go would break something in both of us. "You were always worth saving," he said quietly. "I just wish I’d seen it before everything fell apart."
"You see it now. That's what matters."
We fell asleep like that. Tangled together. Two dying people refusing to quit. Refusing to surrender to curses or fate or impossibility.
Tomorrow would come, with its bruises, its blood, and the ritual that might tear us apart for good.
But tonight… tonight, we had this. Just us. Just breath and warmth and the quiet lie that, for now, we were safe.
And somehow, that had to be enough.
Not because it was…
But because it was all we had left to hold onto.
And if this was the last calm before the storm...
I wanted to drown in it.