A Court of Bastards [ACOTAR]

Chapter 34

Gabriel's prophecy fell upon the Night Court like a kind of mental fog, ominous and ever-present in the minds of the inner circle, thicker with each passing day. The river house quickly became the centre of court politics, various members of the Archeron family rushing in and out for meetings every morning. Fiona began to see less and less of Xander as his father sent him off to chase every lead he could fathom, and even Bella was called away for missions once or twice. Everyone was tense; most days, she was left with only Tristan and Luna for company, though Rhysand's youngest hadn't seemed to warm to her quite yet. Every time their paths crossed in the town house, Fiona would catch barely a glimpse of golden hair before the young princess whipped around a corner out of sight.

Not that she minded, of course. There was plenty to keep busy with anyhow. When she wasn't off flying through Illyria, Bella was entrusting her with new and more exhausting techniques. Her counter strikes were getting better every day, and after Xander's suggestions Fiona was even learning to work her magic into combat. 

Though her training schedule was rigorous, as the days passed she came to settle back into something like the routine she'd found in the Forest House kitchens. She remembered how to appreciate the catharsis that came from rising early with the sun and falling back into bed bruised and exhausted at the end of the day. In a way, training was a lot like baking - it turned off a switch in her brain and allowed her to concentrate on simple, repetitive motions until some of the fog had cleared, and nothing seemed all that complex anymore.

It was a rainy midweek morning when Fiona's routine was punctuated by some unexpected guests in the training ring. Winnowing to the House of Wind, she'd almost fallen off the rooftop upon discovering the small legion of cloaked priestesses and Illyrians clustered there - and she was no less shocked when the nearest winged female introduced them as the elite Valkyrie warriors.

"You must be Fiona," smiled the Illyrian. "I'm Emerie. Belladonna is in the Steppes visiting the warcamps today, so she's asked us to take over your training." Her dark hair was tied back in a tight braid, a mirror image of Bella's own style. But it was the long, thin slashes down the centre of her wings that caught Fiona's eye first. She tried not to let her gaze flicker to the scar tissue as she answered, "Oh, I see." Watching a robed priestess block an almighty punch across the ring, she felt compelled to add, "I should warn you though, I'm nowhere near Valkyrie standard."

"Nonsense." Emerie's brown eyes shone with humour. "Any student of Bella's is good enough to spar with us."

Fiona's cheeks went a little red as she led them past hooded women dealing vicious blows to the training dummies laid out around the ring. "I think you're over-estimating me," Fiona mumbled. "Bella still hasn't let me touch the weapons yet."

"As she shouldn't." Emerie nodded. "You have to master holding your weight first..." she cocked her head to one side, her gaze dropping to Fiona's gait. "...and it looks like you still have quite a ways to go."

Fiona huffed a laugh as they halted by a vacant corner at the edge of the ring. These Illyrians and their damned stances...

To her disappointment, Emerie was no less brutal than Bella, though she did have some helpful tips about movement. "You want to keep your limbs tucked in tight," she told her, barely breaking a sweat as Fiona panted, dodging the umpteenth swinging kick of the morning. "The smaller a target you present, the less likely you are to get hit."

It didn't take long for her to discover how the Valkyries  had earned their name. They trained long hours, and hardly seemed to tire - and, as if that wasn't intimidating enough, several of the senior members had worn their dummies down to dented lumps of wood by the time sun set, and yet still found the energy to tease and play as they packed equipment away.