Fallon
The training grounds were quiet this late at night, the torches along the stone walls flickering in the breeze. The cold air bit at my skin, but I welcomed it. Anything to push away the storm raging inside me.
I still felt Kane's words like a fresh wound, sharp and stinging every time I let my mind wander back to them. She means nothing to me.
I clenched my fists. I didn't want to think about it. I didn't want to feel anything at all.
That's why I was here.
I needed a fight.
And if there was anyone willing to throw punches without asking too many questions, it was Aela.
I found her near the armory, tightening the wraps around her hands. She looked up as I approached, one brow arching at the expression on my face. "That bad?"
I exhaled sharply. "Worse."
Aela nodded like she understood exactly what I meant. She probably did. "You want to talk about it?"
"No." I cracked my knuckles. "I want to hit something."
A slow smirk spread across her lips. "I can work with that."
We moved to the sparring ring, a worn stretch of dirt lined with wooden posts and training dummies. Aela rolled her shoulders, then took a stance opposite me, her expression settling into one of focus.
"Rules?" she asked.
I shook my head. "None."
She grinned. "Good."
I barely had time to brace before she lunged.
Aela was fast. Faster than most. But I was faster.
I dodged her first strike, spinning out of reach and countering with a jab of my own. She blocked it easily, twisting to drive her elbow toward my ribs. I caught her arm, used her momentum against her, and forced her back a step.
But she didn't stay back for long.
She recovered quickly, feinting left before sweeping low, aiming for my legs. I jumped, barely avoiding the kick, and brought my fist down toward her shoulder. She sidestepped at the last second, and I hit nothing but air.
We moved like that for a whileâattacking, dodging, counteringâour movements fluid, instinctive. The sound of fists connecting with flesh echoed through the empty training grounds, along with the sharp breaths and grunts of exertion.
It wasn't enough.
I needed more.
I needed to feel something other than this ache in my chest.
I struck harder, faster, pushing the limits of my body. Aela kept up, but just barely. She narrowed her eyes, recognizing the recklessness in my attacks.
"Fallon," she warned between strikes, "you're fighting like you want to lose."
"Maybe I do."
The words slipped out before I could stop them, but I didn't regret them. Not when I knew the truth of them. Not when I felt this hollow, this angry, this stupid for ever letting myself believe Kane cared.
Aela swore under her breath and disengaged, stepping back. "Alright. We're done."
"No." I lunged at her again, but she easily dodged, grabbing my arm and twisting it behind my back before shoving me away.
"Yes," she snapped. "You're not fighting. You're self-destructing."
I breathed heavily, my muscles burning, my heart hammering against my ribs. "I just needâ"
"What?" Aela crossed her arms. "To beat yourself bloody? To pretend like this will fix whatever the hell happened?"
I looked away, my jaw tight.
Aela sighed. "Was it Kane?"
I flinched. That was all the answer she needed.
She muttered another curse. "That man is a damn idiot."
I let out a bitter laugh. "Tell me something I don't know."
Aela was quiet for a long moment, studying me. "You care about him."
It wasn't a question.
I swallowed hard, my throat tight. "It doesn't matter."
"Doesn't it?"
"No." I shook my head. "Not when I mean nothing to him."
Aela frowned. "You really believe that?"
I hesitated. Because noâI didn't. Not really. I had seen the way Kane looked at me when he thought I wasn't paying attention. I had felt the way he held me, the way his grip had lingered on my wrist in the dungeon.
But then there were his words. His refusal to say anything when I needed him to the most.
So yes. Maybe I did believe it.
I exhaled sharply and turned away. "I need more training."
Aela didn't stop me this time. She just watched as I walked to the nearest practice dummy and started striking, again and again, until my fists ached and my breath came in ragged gasps.
I didn't stop. Not even when my knuckles split. Not even when the pain became unbearable.
Because pain was better than feeling nothing at all.