Simple.
Spine straight, I lower myself, engaging my core as both hands grip the weights. After three breaths, I heave upward.
The weights barely budge.
My teeth creak when I pull harder, straining until my vision spots at the edges. Slowly, painfully, the weights rise from the ground. My entire body shakes with effort, but I manage to lift them to waist height, whimpering behind the safety of my mask.
I can’t do this.
I have to do this.
My mind blanks, blocking out everything else. There is only the beam, the weights, and the next step forward.
By some stars-given miracle, I reach the midpoint of the beam. A surge of triumph floods through me, distracting me just enough that I lose focus for half a second. My foot slips sideways as both knees surrender, and suddenly I’m falling.
The world spins as I plummet into the squelching pit, landing hard with a cry when one of the weights strikes my ribs. The impact drives every bit of air from my lungs in a painful woosh, leaving me gasping for the smallest of breaths. Mudcoats my mask, pressing against my mouth when it slides inside, my poor eyes suffocating under a layer of the goo.
I roll onto my back, groaning and swiping a hand through my eyes, only to find my view of the sky blocked by a looming figure. The Commander stands at the edge of the pit, watching me. With the sun behind him, I can’t discern whether he’s angry or amused.
He answers my internal question a moment later. “You’re slow and weak.”
The comment is so matter-of-fact, so perfectly aligned with my own self-assessment, that I can’t help it—I laugh. The sound bubbles from somewhere beneath the pain and exhaustion, surprising me as much as it seems to surprise him. It’s a genuine laugh, albeit slightly hysterical, the kind that hurts my dry throat and shakes my aching ribs.
When I finally contain myself, my arms drop limply to the mud. “Yeah, well, we can’t all be you, buddy.”
Collecting every last drop of will I have, I push myself to a sitting position before clambering to my feet. Fuck, my uniform has transformed to a rusty brown instead of black. I’ll need to wash it—and myself—thoroughly before training tomorrow. The prospect of navigating the communal showers is a dreadful one.
“Do you find something funny?” Arayik asks, his voice tight with unsuppressed irritation.
“Actually, yes,” I reply on a staggered breath, not deigning to elaborate further. The vagueness is petty, yet it’s impossible to resist needling him. His entire body tenses, muscles coiling like springs under his uniform.
“I buried my sister because of someone who was as slow and weak as you, so I’m failing to understand what you think is amusing. Care to explain?” What does it say about me thathearing each clipped syllable makes me happier than I’ve been all day?
Then there’s the comment about his sister…quite untasteful for him to bring that up when I’m finally enjoying myself. The human part of me wants to offer sympathies, but I can offer them to her myself. In private. He doesn’t deserve anything of the sort.
“No, thanks,” I answer, allowing a hint of cheerfulness to color my tone. If he’s going to kick me out, I could care less about how I speak to him.
I’ve never considered myself particularly rebellious. With my parents, obedience was a given, as I was always grateful for the risks they shouldered to keep me safe. But something about this pain-in-the-ass man drags out a defiant streak I didn’t know I possessed.
Well, my parents never lowered themselves to the subjugation of women or the expected cruelty of upholding a system that values control over humanity.
Every organ in my body cringes when his eyes narrow. “Tell me, Ashford—what’s the scan sequence when traveling through a provincial checkpoint?”
My stomach flips. What an odd question. I was under the impression Elias and Kellen managed all our mental training, but I do understand why it would be important during physical efforts as well.
I assume this is something any traveling Enforcer—or messenger, I realize—should know. Lachlan would tease me for days for not immediately knowing the answer.
But I do know… “Badge swipe, obviously,” I answer.
Arayik’s features flatten as he stands silent for a moment, heat radiating from his body, before spinning on his heel and walking away. Relief mingles with a strange sense of victory—I’ve managed to irritate him without crossing the line into insubordination severe enough to warrant dismissal.
I’m playing a dangerous game; trying to prove my worth as a recruit while maintaining just enough resistance to preserve my sense of self. Strange, though, that he’s thrown others from the team for less…perhaps I’m not as useless as he would have me believe. My power may be the only thing keeping me here right now.
Wheezing in a deep breath full of mud and sweat, I scoop the area around my eyes again, cleaning it the best I can and begin the long trudge back to the start of the course. There are still hours of training ahead before I can rest.
My body protests every movement, muscles trembling with fatigue and overexertion. But a flame burns steady in my chest—determination fueled by rage at the system I’m infiltrating and hope for what I might accomplish within it.
I will survive this. I will learn from it. Then I will use everything they teach me against them.
