Thousands of years ago a war broke out on a distant island, splitting its occupants into factions. Alifero, Cornucopia, Querencia and Aranea. The tension between them that has been unyielding for centuries only grows when their precious water starts...
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The training sword whistles as I whip it through the air. My attacks on the dummy are vicious. I'd already ripped up one side and had turned it around to finish off the other. My hands were thoroughly bruised under their wraps from my hand-to-hand combat training. I don't have a partner, so I train with a spinning pole that had four levels of bars sticking out of it. It was only good for reaction training, but it was better than nothing.
Amélie had been on my nerves all morning. Or perhaps I woke up ready to kill something. It was both honestly.
Every perfect turn of her head and the little smile on her features. The beating of wings outside when she left with Joshua. It was even worse considering she would only have a few hours at the academy and be home early to watch me, make sure I don't run away.
She knew I was up to something, and it pissed me off to my wit's end. How the fuck had I not been more careful? I'm better than that. I know I am better than her.
I land one last hit on the dummy and push back panting from the effort. My muscles quivered tiredly. I was overdoing it but I couldn't care less. Everything in me screamed out for a drink or some relief from the overbearing anger in my body.
Refusing to let myself calm, I let the image of Amélie's smug grin simmer in my brain for a while. I growled attacking again.
The floor was littered with brown feathers that had fallen as I trained. I'd been too tired from nights at the pube to preen properly. There were so many loose feathers I had to tug free and irritated skin to clean from lack of attention. Another thing to irritate me.
My training sabre thwacked against the dummy one last time. I hurled it at the wall and watched it clatter to the floor. Other, more decorative, sabres shifted uneasily from their hooks on the wall.
"You are only worth as much as you can give to this family, you are worth nothing."
With a great cry, I kick the dummy right in its middle and watch the heavy thing fall back onto the springy floor of the training room.
As those words flowed through my brain I thought of Tommy. How much his parents would have loved him if he was alive. I would never have that, I didn't deserve that. No good daughter would throw such a tantrum for no real reason. No well-mannered lady would allow something so trivial as a look on her sister's face or some common backhanded words to get under her skin.
