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.
Tane calls out to Julius, “That was uncalled for.”
Mathilda is glaring daggers at Julius, but doesn’t fight off Tane’s hold.
Julius leans towards me but says loud enough for everyone to hear, “I didn’t say ‘up’ yet.”
A metallic copper taste fills my mouth as I bite down on my tongue, struggling to keep my temper in check. But my blood is boiling at the lack of respect.
I wouldn’t last one second fighting this man,not yet.
But I curl my hands into fists, violence surging through me. I struggle to keep a level head and focus on my surroundings and not Julius.
A raven caw sounds from the tree behind us, and he quickly rights himself. “Up.”
I push myself up and hold the position. I lift my head to meet his eyes when he doesn’t immediately say down.
“At least you’re a quick learner,” he sneers. “Down.”
Tane and Mathilda do not move from the water table, their sparring indefinitely on pause as they keep an eye on me. Their eyes gleam, never taking them off of Julius for the fifty reps he makes me do.
My arms are starting to wobble, my strength fading, when he finally says, “That’s enough, let’s check your balance.”
He makes me stand with my feet shoulder-width apart, my arms outstretched at my sides, before he begins shoving at my shoulders and swiping at my legs. Untrained and exhausted, I do my best to keep my feet planted and square my shoulders to weather his abuse. But he manages to knock me on my backside several times.
