LIRO || completed

• 7.1 •

Liro slept fitfully that night, tossing and turning until her sheets were a white tangle around her legs. Her body was doused in cold sweat, and she woke with shivers wracking her body uncontrollably. It was all she could do to run to the window before her stomach upended itself upon the alleyway floor.

She gripped the windowsill tightly as she retched, her body convulsing. Liro couldn't remember the last time she'd gotten sick, and hated that it was ten times worse in such a fragile body. Her vision shook violently, and Liro sank to her knees, trembling.

She remembered sickness as terrible, yes.

But never this terrible.

Yet another sign of her increasing mortality.

Liro hated it.

When the sun rose, her skin was sickly pale and her eyes were ringed in red, yet she forced herself to don her leathers and pull her hair away from her face. The Queen was never able to take a day off from her position; Liro would have to be just as relentless.

She ate her rations from Kier without complaint, nibbling at it carefully as warm up drills were performed. Liro was terrified that pushing her stomach too far would be disastrous, resulting in another episode of sickness like before.

"Liro," Kier said, coming to stand by her side. "You haven't warmed up. What are you doing."

Liro swallowed carefully. "Eating my breakfast."

"An infant can consume twice as much as you've managed to put in your body by now," he countered.

Liro pushed back her irritation. "I'm sick."

Kier pursed his lips so tightly they turned white. Clearly, he didn't like her reasoning. He couldn't be debating if it was legitimate, could he? Though by the look on his face, Liro expected him to throw her into the training grounds if it was the last thing he ever did.

Which it would be.

She was sick, and if he wanted proof, she'd shove the rest of her bread down her throat and make him watch as it came rushing back up.

"Be in working condition by midweek," Kier said stonily. "Assignments are coming out, and you need to be able to walk in a straight line if you want to shoot down another animal."

Liro bared her teeth. "I'll get right on that."

"And in the mean time? Warm up. You're finished with breakfast for now."

Liro threw the roll at the back of his head as he walked away.

Her muscles felt almost too loose, like they were slacking off of her bones, as she shook them out. Jumping was out of the question at this point. Her stomach was roiling, and any movement had her fighting to keep her breakfast down.

Wednesday, she told herself. Be better by Wednesday, and you can prove to Kier that you can hunt.

Why did it seem so impossibly far away?

Liro stretched out her arms and legs, making sure her hips and ankles were at full rotating capacity before attempting a short jog around the training grounds. She could taste the bile as it slowly worked its way up her throat, and she only had time to get on her knees before she emptied the contents of her stomach.

To hell with Kier and his preposterous training regime. The next time she threw up, she would aim for him if he didn't let her take a break.

Let her?

When had she started to think like that? It was dangerous as worst, repulsive at best. No one was going to let her do anything, especially if it but her out of work longer. And if someone tried to force her hand?