A Court of Flames and Shadows

38. Overcoming Fears

The artwork above is not mine.

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She did gain another bargain tattoo and Azriel was the one who noticed it first. Two wings had been tattooed across her back mimicking Illyrian wings. She had no idea if Erebus had a tattoo or not. Seren didn't like the idea of having matching marks with him, but it was for the females.

Seren reminded herself of that every day, as several male warriors watched her training lessons and threw insults towards them all. It was for the females. It was for those who hadn't learned to fight back. It was for those who deserved a chance to fight. It was for those who were fighting to overcome their fears.

At first, only Jorah trained with her and Elain. Then, another female showed up, and another. Three days after Jorah's training began, six females stood in the ring. Seren and Elain demonstrated a few punches and blocking maneuvers. The females paired up and practiced on one another. Cassian hollered encouragement from outside the training ring. He was accompanying them today, since Azriel was apparently busy being the Spymaster.

Seren watched Jorah as she executed an attack. Her fist collided with her opponent's jaw and the other female crumpled. "Oh, sorry, Kalea!" Jorah offered her a hand and pulled her up.

"That was a good hit," Kalea replied, rubbing her jaw. "Can I repay you?"

Jorah folded her hands behind her back. Kalea wound up and threw a punch. Jorah staggered back from the blow, then chuckled. "Now we're even."

"Good form." Seren joined them, grinning. "Have you been practicing outside the ring?"

"Maybe a little," Jorah admitted. Her voice had grown stronger now and she spoke more often. It made Seren very happy. "When my father isn't around."

Seren's smile faltered. "He hasn't punished you for coming, has he?"

Jorah shook her head. "He won't while Cassian and Azriel are here. Father is one of the few warriors in this camp who respects them."

I'm glad to know there's someone who does, Seren thought. Her gaze flickered to Jorah's wings. Cruel scars marred their central tendons. One wing was slightly smaller than the other.

Jorah stretched them partially, noticing her gaze. "You can ask if you want. I don't mind."

"I don't like to ask about things. If someone wants to tell me, they will. Until then, I don't need to know," Seren replied. Kalea joined the others, leaving them alone.

Jorah seemed faintly surprised by her statement. "Really?"

Seren nodded. "For two reasons. One, it's rude to ask about things that might be uncomfortable for the other person to talk about. Two, I grew up knowing not to ask questions about certain things."

Jorah thought for a moment, then answered. "It wasn't my father who clipped my wings. My grandfather did. My mother died in childbirth and one of my wings became injured during the birth. It was crippled and never grew to full size, leaving me unable to fly. Father didn't plan to clip me because of that, but my grandfather decided it had to be done for tradition's sake." Jorah lifted her sparkling hazelnut eyes to the sky. "It's hard to know you belong somewhere and you'll never be able to reach it."

Seren furrowed her brows, thinking. "You could, actually."

"What do you mean?"

"I fly with Azriel all the time. He carries me. It's not quite the same, but it's as close as I can get."