Untouched (Untouched #1)(Old Work)

Chapter Fifteen

The plush carpet sunk beneath her feet as Ellen left the training room and headed for her living quarters to freshen up, a large smile plastered on her face.

For the past two weeks, they had been working on close combat, the wooden rods leaving angry red lashes on her skin. But this didn't phase her, nor did she mind. They served as a reminder to never be brash, but to be humble. They also showed that every time she had been beat, she would get up and the dance would start over. The lashes and bruises marks of pride; marks of self-determination.

But that all changed today.

She had managed to outmanoeuvre Hans in their final skirmish of the day, forcing him onto his knees after a well-played parry before the wooden pole struck down onto this back. She thought he would have been upset; rather, he looked up at her grinning and clapping his hands.

"Perfect. I need to pitch you up against Claudia next."

And then he gave her a high-five – his hand covered in wraps and hers, in hardened callouses - and let her go for the rest of the afternoon.

Now she found herself wandering the corridors on automatic pilot, humming to herself, in the best mood she had been in for a long while. She replayed the moment in her head, again and again, hoping that everything she learnt would sink inside her and that she would be able to perform if she ever had to. It is one thing to be able to train well, but another if you actually had to use those skills.

She approached the door of her room, opening it and almost doubling back on her steps. Someone – or something ­– had been in here.

Three packages sat on her bed, wrapped neatly in brown paper and string.

Her mind automatically trailed to the worst case scenario - What if they were malicious? What if it was a trap? Could the same person that injured the mortal man in the park have left these for her?

Her eyes scanned over the wrapping, her attention catching on a white slip of paper that was tucked beneath one of the parcels. There were two sentences - two short sentences - written in fancy yet legible cursive: It's time you had your own. These are yours.

Her head pounded, her breath light and rapid.

Barely being able to contain the excitement, she sat down on the edge of her bed and held the first of the packages in her arm. It was the smallest one and the lightest, and she had a fair idea of what was inside it. Ellen tore off the string and paper, exposing a black cover made of silk and the gold cord. The smile now re-igniting her face, she fumbled with the cord and drew out what was inside, letting it sit in her lap. Her eyes marvelled at the detail; the detail that she only saw on paper during the design phase. It was as if she was a child in a candy store.

The dagger that they had designed whilst cramming their heads together with Elder Smith stared up at her, the blade and hilt both gleaming. Whilst she nearly opted to go for a similar swirl design, she instead chose one that had more Celtic qualities to it, the design running from the tip of the hilt to halfway along the blade. It really was an epitome to brilliant workmanship.

She put this on the bed behind her, taking care not to run any part of her body along the foreboding blade. She then took the second largest parcel, this one being a bit more difficult to lift with one hand, removed the wrappings and the case, and admired the katana that she had opted for. Again, the work that had gone into it was nothing short of breathtaking and she sat admiring it. That was, until she remembered that there was also a third package that awaited her.

The unopened package was the largest and also the widest although it wasn't very heavy. She stood onto her feet, and leaned down over the bed. Her hands shook as she slowly peeled back the paper; in her mind, guessing what it could be.