The next morning Kyla rose at dawn and pulled out her training clothes. The boots felt sturdy but flexible and the cool night air lingered, keeping the temperature comfortable. She moved quietly through the house and out the front door. Once on the street, she paused searching the lanes once again for the mysterious messenger who had delivered the fox, saying that it would make her feel better. The streetlights were fading in the growing dawn and some early deliveries were being made to stores and houses.
She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, inhaling the scents of the city. Then her feet started moving, and she ran.
Mor and Kyla worked through the core strengthening exercises in the training ring on top of the House of Wind. Though they kept to the shade, sweat poured off of them as the summer sun beat down. Kyla sucked in as much air into her lungs as possible, willing the fresh blood to flow to her shaking muscles.
"C'mon, just five more!" Mor encouraged through clenched teeth, as she too pushed through the strain. In unison they collapsed to the ground, gasping for air.
"I had no idea it was so easy to get out of shape," Kyla gasped. "You'd think I had never done a sit-up in my life."
Mor groaned and rolled over to her knees before rising shakily. "I can't believe I agreed to spar with Azriel after this. He's going to kick my ass." She reached down and offered a hand up to Kyla who accepted and let the faerie pull her to her feet. They lurched over to the bench where towels and cool water waited for them.
"Why would you agree to that? Are you being punished for something?" Kyla joked.
"Never good enough for Azriel, it seems," Mor sighed. "No, that's not being fair. He sees the worst in this world. His shadows and spies bring him secrets and knowledge that he sometimes can't even bring himself to share. He knows what's out there, and he wants us all to be at our best in case we ever come across it."
Kyla took a long drink of water and wiped her face down with the towel. She didn't have to imagine some of the horrors that Azriel had seen. She had seen some of them herself and been unable to do anything about it. And yet the Cauldron kept her alive despite being woefully unprepared for the real world.
As Kyla and Mor rested and hydrated, a shadow passed over the training ring causing the females to squint and look at the sky. A tangled mess of wings and flesh was hurtling towards them, the sound of metal clashing and crunch of fists hitting flesh growing more distinct as it approached. Cassian and Azriel were falling from the sky, locked in a dance of aerial hand-to-hand combat.
Mor grabbed Kyla's arm, hauling her to the wall of the training ring as the males slammed to the ground, separating at the last minute to avoid broken bones. Mor coughed and waved her hand in front of her face as the dust settled and everyone caught their breaths. Then Cassian started to chuckle and rolled over to face Azriel.
"I had you! That little trick you pulled almost ended it but left your right side open to a counter-strike."
Azriel leapt to his feet in one motion and sheathed his knives. "You did not have me. It was all calculated. There's no way you could have landed that blow." He stalked over to Cassian and offered him a hand up, then joined the females at the water table.
"That was dramatic," Mor said with feigned annoyance.
Cassian walked over and wrapped her in a sweaty hug. "You know how I like to make an entrance," he defended.
Mor cringed and pushed off of Cassian, pretending to wipe the dirt off of her clothes. "No, I don't. That's not a thing you do at all. You just made that up now." She rolled her eyes at him and walked over to select a sword for her practice with Azriel.
Cassian pretended to look hurt but got over it quickly as he grabbed a water jug and poured the entire contents over his head.
Azriel gave him a disgusted look and shook his head. "Good thing no one else wanted any of that water."
Mor just waved a hand over her shoulder and the jug filled again. Cassian winked at Kyla and solemnly poured a cup for his brother. Azriel just scowled and grabbed the water cup, gulping it down as he tried not to stare at Kyla. She was wiping down her face with a cool cloth, and the sweat and heat spread her scent throughout the ring making it difficult for him to concentrate.
"How was your workout?" he asked tensely.
Kyla looked up and nodded simply. "It was fine. Feels good to get the heart rate up again."
He nodded and looked away from her shining face, healthy from the exercise. "That's good. Very good. Does Madja know that you're working out again? She might have concerns…"
Kyla scrunched up her brow and looked between him and Cassian. "Madja has put all the bits and pieces back together again, some in better condition than when they started. I don't know what she would be concerned about."
Azriel shifted his weight awkwardly and searched for some explanation for his somewhat baseless concern, but Cassian stepped into save him. "How about some one-two punches then? We can see how that core is holding up," he suggested and walked between them to gather the punching pads.
Azriel quickly turned and tried to catch Mor off guard with his attack. But she had been watching the whole scene and easily spun out of the way, coiling for her own blow.
Kyla took another gulp of water and walked over to Cassian waiting with the punching pads. She placed her feet in the correct stance and bent her knees to engage her core muscles. Everything was in place, her technique flawless. She remembered every word she had read about fighting and had some of the best instructors in Prythian help her put it into practice. Twist and punch. Use the stronger abdominal muscles; arms are thin and weak. Add power from the legs. Don't sacrifice your balance. Keep your eye on the target.
Kyla held her fists up, prepared to punch. Keep your eye on the target. She stared hard at the pads in Cassian's hands. Left, then right. Then left. She took a breath to punch, and let the breath out. She inhaled again, and looked at the pad. Punch. Just punch it.
Cassian was saying something to her. Encouragement? Instruction? Admonishment? She couldn't make out the words. A roaring filled her ears as she strained to hear what he was saying. She clenched her fists and then reset them again. Inhale. Exhale. Left, right, left, right.
Her hands fell to her sides as she straightened her legs, not looking Cassian in the face. Some distant part of her mind was aware that Azriel and Mor had stopped sparing and were watching her. Without a word she turned and walked out of the training ring.
Red filled Kyla's vision as she stalked through the halls. She wasn't even thinking, just putting one foot in front of the other. In the distance someone was calling her name, but the sound didn't register in her mind. She ploughed forward turning corners, climbing stairs, moving through rooms.
Mor finally snatched her arm and pulled her to stop, pushing her against the wall as if to snap her out of the trance.
"Kyla! Kyla, talk to me. It's fine, it's alright. You don't have to fight if you don't want to," she implored with concern on her face.
Kyla sagged against the wall and rocked her head back, looking up at the ceiling. She took several breaths before she could answer.
"But that's the thing, I do want to fight. I want defend myself, I want protect the people I love, I want to defeat my enemies...and I can't!" She glanced at Mor then looked away again. "I tried so hard! I practiced and trained and learned and then did nothing. He dragged me away like I was a child! A drugged-up-pathetic-sorry-excuse-for-a-High-Fae tossed me around like a doll and I couldn't do anything to stop it."
Mor's cringed and ran her hand down her face like she could wipe the memory of that night away. "But the rest of are here-"
"But you weren't!" Kyla shouted.
Mor stepped back quickly as though Kyla had punched her in the stomach.
"I'm sorry, I don't mean to say…" Kyla swallowed and looked away again. She exhaled deeply and then tried to look Mor in the eye. "You can't always be there, and you shouldn't have to be." She couldn't be guarded at all times, escorted down the halls because a threat lurked behind every corner.
"You're right," Mor nodded solemnly. "We let you down." They promised her safety and instead she bled out on the ground before them.
Mor's admission pained Kyla even more. She pinched eyes shut and brushed her face, trying to hide a small sniffle. "No you didn't, I let myself down. I want to blame you. I want to blame all of you! I try to convince myself that it wasn't my fault, and that you should have done more. But I can't seem to believe it. I know that I agreed to be the bait. I know that I stormed out into the Illyrian camp that morning, and that I provoked Devlon."
She hugged her arms across her body as if trying to keep the emotions from spilling out on the floor. "And then I'm so angry. I'm so angry at myself for being naïve and I'm so angry at someone for making me this way."
"That…that's not your fault, Kyla," Mor tried to reassure her.
"It doesn't matter whose fault it is, it's still my problem to deal with."
"You don't have to do it alone," Mor insisted.
Kyla gave Mor a pitiful look. "I'm a mortal on the wrong side of the Wall-that-Was. I've never been so alone."
That Kyla would consider herself more alone now than when she was at the Cabin broke Mor's heart. There were people here but she was still unique, the only mortal courtier in Prythian. "That's not true! You're not alone in this. We're all here with you."
"Then why is Ferrik still alive?"
Mor looked aghast. She stammered, trying to come up with an explanation. "Because we're working through the trial; we have to consider all the angles."
Kyla shook her head and huffed in disgust. "Because he assaulted a mortal, and no one cares." She stared hard at Mor, challenging the fae to say otherwise. "Rhys cares, but he can't start a war over it. I know how it works, and I can't say I would do any different in his place. But that doesn't change how hollow I feel inside, like nothing I do will ever be good enough, because I will still be just a human."
Mor pinched her lips and exhaled sharply. Kyla tried to move off down the hallway but Mor blocked her path.
"Azriel loves you!" Mor blurted out.
Kyla stopped in her tracks.
"We all love you. You might be human and fragile and, frankly, unnervingly clumsy, but you are also smart and funny and strong. You are so strong! To live and laugh even under the weight of those scars, carrying the burden of not knowing your place in all this? You landed on our doorstep and we didn't know what to do with you, and now I don't know what we would do without you."
Kyla stared at the fae with her jaw practically on the ground. She was so astonished by the confession she hadn't a clue how to react. Several breaths passed and neither female moved.
"Let us help you carry some of this load. Will you let us love you?" Mor pleaded quietly.
Kyla just continued to stare at the Morrigan, her breath coming in quick bursts, her throat closed tight. Tentatively she stepped towards Mor but stopped just out of reach. She started to reach up to her but then covered her mouth with her hand like she was going to be sick and shook her head vigorously, her eyes imploring Mor to understand her pain.
"I don't know how."