Heir of the Gods

Ch. 11: Ripple of Fate

The days moved easier now for Cassia. She had more of a purpose than usual, though she made sure to stick to the same patterns of her life as before, however dull that was. 

Around that, she wedged in her lessons with Julianus.

Between the morning calisthenics she faithfully subjected herself to and the swordplay lessons with Julianus, Cassia was pleased to find that her body was acclimating itself nicely to the strain.

She often woke up aching and sore, but it was worth it. The blisters on her hands and feet were worth it. The pain was worth it, though it had lessened in the three weeks since she'd started.

The pain Cassia could live with. It was the cold that would get her.

She stood in the middle of the forest, waiting as Julianus made sure her horse was secure. The stablehands hadn't so much as batted an eyelash when she had started showing up before dawn, simpering about how she had wanted to take a sunrise ride.

All she'd had to do was smile, and they'd happily readied her horse—a feisty mare with a coat pure as the driven snow. They had for the three unconsecutive mornings she'd done it in this last week, and she knew they'd continue on in the same fashion.

It was easy enough for Julianus to leave the castle—the guards never questioned him—and find her. Then they'd ride to whatever private corner of the forest they had decided on.

The afternoons were still decently warm, but autumn had certainly arrived in the ninth month, making the mornings and evenings brisk. Huddling into a cloak that fell only to her knees, breath frosting in the air, she glared dully at Julianus.

He'd of course been as good as his word—once his ankle had healed, they had started running. This was only the third of such mornings, but she had already developed a passionate hatred for running.

The leather trousers she had managed to quietly purchase didn't do much to keep her legs from freezing. The two shirts she had layered on weren't much help either. It was infuriating to know that the only thing that would warm her was the two-mile run Julianus would force on her.

She wiggled her toes in her supple leather boots—another discreet purchase—trying to make sure that they weren't frozen as Julianus swept toward her through the brush, silent as a wraith. They never ran the paths.

All he did was jerk his head, and they started.

Immediately, the chilly morning air bit into her lungs like knives. The days of faithfully adherring to the fitness regimen Julianus had given her helped some... but only some.

Cassia ducked branches and leapt over stones and fallen, half-rotted trees. She wove around ferns and dense patches of brush, Julianus always a little in front of her. Her breathing soon became harsh, her arms pumping at her sides as she forced her legs just a little faster.

The lord gave her a sideways glance and smiled, lengthening his stride. Always just ahead of her—not quite out of reach, but enough to ensure that she wouldn't stop and admit defeat. Even if it was to her own detriment.

Eventually the world grew distant around her, her mind only conscious of a few select things: the treacherous terrain underfoot, the rasp of her lungs, the dullness spreading through her limbs, her dry mouth and Julianus always just in front of her.

She ran until it was the only thing she knew, the only thing she'd ever known.

Logically, Cassia knew the run only ever took around thirty minutes. Physically, her body was certain she'd been running for hours by the time Julianus finally slowed, then drew to a halt.