Page 42 of A Courage of the Chosen

The rest of our group passes underneath the stone arches of the training area. Eòghann greets a few of the soldiers he knows and has served with, and joins them in drills seamlessly.

My gaze falls on Rachel, Elsie, and Reyne, where they’ve taken an empty ring and have begun warming up. Reyne is quite the teacher, despite her limited exposure to Dorche, and is admittedly one of the best fighters I’ve ever seen. Not that I’d ever admit it out loud, but I wouldn’t want to face her as an opponent in a genuine fight.

The three of them held their own during the battle, but I couldn’t help sneaking glances in Elsie’s direction as we all fought for our lives, and it cost me one too many hits that I should’ve been able to block.

I needn’t have worried, though. She was fierce and unrelenting. That same focus settles over her face now as she moves through stretches and poses that highlight her long, lean legs, the curve of her hips, and that delicious arse of hers that looks fantastic when I grip it to fuck her senseless.

“Okay, lover-boy, time to stop eye-fucking your girlfriend. We’ve got work to do.” Brodie snaps me from my perusal of her, albeit somewhat unwillingly.

“I had to tolerate you eye-fucking my sister for Dhia-knows how long. It’s your turn now.”

“I didn’t look as fucking gone as you, Cal. She’s got you in the palm of her hand.”

I don’t have it in me to deny it. She does. But I also don’t call him out on his bullshit. He’s been gone for Rachel from the minute she fluttered her eyelashes at him.

He knows it too, and we soon get lost in making our way around the courtyard, watching as our vision becomes a reality.

Those who make up our forces greet us as we walk the perimeter, and the rest eye us speculatively. They know we aren’t to be feared any longer, but they don’t know why.

After decades of being convinced that I am the one responsible for the plague upon this world, the notion is hard to shake. Regardless, I glare back at them when they stare too long, their looks a little too questioning.

Eventually, we find an empty ring and begin our own training. Brodie and I settle into the same dance we’ve done thousands of times, pushing ourselves to our limits to be better.

The fucker is strong, he always has been, but I’m faster, and I enjoy the way he gets frustrated at the fact he’s never been able to keep up with my speed. He also can’t wield. But that doesn’t prevent him from taking down most of his opponents with his impressive brawn. I’ve always thought that’s how his magic manifests. It’s unheard of in Elfayne for magic to appear that way, but I’ve never seen a fighter like him to this day. And stranger things have happened in this realm.

One sweat-soaked hour fades into the next, and Brodie sheds his shirt, deciding it’s preventing him from gaining the upper hand. Being intimately familiar with the way his mind works, I’m aware he’s done it because Rachel is in the next ring over and we’re in her direct eye-line. My sister catches a glimpse of his bulky muscles and sweat-slicked abs, and as a result, Elsie swipes her legs from beneath her when Rachel loses focus.

“Serves you right, lass. You’re distracted,” Reyne scolds as she circles the other two women.

“Come on, look at him! Can you blame a girl?” My sister quips, earning a chuckle from Brodie.

Elsie’s gaze flicks to mine, scans down my body, and she swallows once before turning back to her own spar as I smirk at her blatant ogling.

Maybe Brodie is onto something . . .

I’m sucked back into training as my opponent launches himself at me again, and the world dissolves into the quiet that only comes when I’m wholly in tune with my body. Time is lost to me when I’m in this state. I could be fighting for one hour, or a whole day, and it’ll slip by in the same rhythm. I’ll tire, but that’s when I push even harder, testing myself further.

Breathe. Punch. Breathe. Block. Breathe. Attack.

Limbs fluid like water. Strikes strong like steel.

I was born with strength, but I was forged by my circumstances. And this is where I belong—fists bloody, body thrumming, teeth bared.

Brodie throws everything he can at me, and I give him everything in return. Well, almost everything.

“Does it mean there’s something wrong with me if watching you train is turning me on?” Her soft voice is the only thing capable of piercing my concentration some hours later. I pause in response to the heat that surges down our connection and fills my chest.

Brodie is on me in that split second, and lands a series of punches to my abdomen that knock the wind out of me. His obnoxious laugh of victory booms around us.

“Told you, Cal. Gone.”

I push him away when he slaps my back, shoving the last of the air out of my lungs. Brodie laughs again as he puts an arm around my sister and leads her away, leaving me alone with Elsie.

“I’m sorry, was that my fault?” She shuffles closer, arms clasped behind her.

“A little, but it was about time I let him get a win in anyway. Our training sessions usually finish with him in the dirt.”

Elsie’s smile grows, and as they have done since I came to the palace, her green eyes peel away from mine as though she’s afraid to hold the contact with me.