I stepped back, breathing hard. Sweat clung to my spine. My limbs trembled—not from exertion, but from restraint. From the sharp, twisting cocktail of humiliation, heat, and something dangerously close to attraction.
I moved again—this time with less technique and more desperation. I aimed a punch at his side and followed with a knee.
Rowan blocked both, but I saw it. A half-second. A shift in his stance. I had surprised him.
That flicker of satisfaction lit something within me.
“Better,” he said again, but this time, there was something new in his voice. Something akin to pride.
We stood there, both breathing hard, close enough that my next step would put me against his chest. Neither of us moved.
Then Rowan stepped away, and I let out a breath I didn’t know I had been holding. “You’re learning. We meet here every week, an hour after dinner. Don’t be late.”
With that, Rowan exited the gym, and I stood there panting with my hands on my knees. This was going to be challenging, in more ways than one, but I prayed it was worth it.
Chapter 32
“The gods reward obedience.
As a servant, you are to breathe their words and execute their will.
That is doctrine.”
- Article 4, Section 4, of the Veiled Compendium
The Facility - Day 7
My thumb tapped anxiously against the polished cover of the book I clutched. It was a copy ofA Brief History of the Ravaryn Crown, borrowed from the library. It felt wise to brush up on my enemy.
I was slowly but surely making my way through the connecting rooms of the library. It was expansive, almost as if they had a copy of every book published. I’d found a shadowy alcove in the library, and I was planning to disappear into it until someone came to drag me out again.
“Maaavis!” a syrupy voice sang behind me.
My spine stiffened, and I turned slowly.
Corsica stood in the middle of the hallway, arms folded behind her back like she was posing for a portrait. Her glossy hair was swept into an elaborate braid, and she was wearing the brightest shade of coral lipstick I’d ever seen in my life.
“You’ve been skipping the group activities,” she said with a tilt of her head. “You know we track attendance, right?”
“I didn’t realize they were mandatory,” I said flatly, already bracing myself for the inevitable lecture.
“Oh, they’re not.” She smiled wide enough to show nearly all her teeth. “But they are… encouraged. Socialization is important.”
The lilt in her voice made it almost seem as if she cared, but I recognized it for the controlling ruse it was.
“I don’t get along well with others.”
Corsica giggled, high and musical. “No, no. I think you have theoppositeissue, sweetheart.”
I blinked. “Excuse me?”
She didn’t elaborate. She just smiled wider, like we were sharing some inside joke I hadn’t been told.
“I host music night every Thursday,” she said brightly, as if that eerie moment hadn’t happened at all. “Rec room. Eight o’clock,” she tapped her watch. “It’s always a delight. You should come.”
“I’ll think about it,” I said quickly, already angling my body away from her.
Corsica’s eyes lingered a moment too long. Then, with a wink and a spin of her heel, she vanished down the corridor like she’d never been there at all.
