A Court of Wards and Shadow

chapter six

warnings: angst, anxiety, fighting, mentions of war

disclaimer: this fic in no way represents any of sarah j. maas' work or ideas, it is for purely fictional/personal entertainment purposes

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i tip my head back, relishing the feeling of the cold water slipping down my throat before using the back of my hand to wipe at the sweat starting to trickle down from my brow. even though we are well into fall, the heat of the afternoon sun is unrelenting today. and the intensity with which i am running through my strength training is not helping matters. i pull my tunic away from myself, tugging at it to try and let air in where the fabric clings to my body with sweat.

a rustling behind me catches my attention and i turn to find azriel approaching. throughout the months i have been here, i have not failed to notice how stealthy most of his movements are. he's always moving silently around the house and the training ring, wrapped in his shadows. it's very obvious why rhysand chose him to be his shadowsinger and spy. and yet, i can always tell when he's near, i always hear him approaching. and as i watch him cross the ring towards me, the faintest hint of a smile gracing his lips, i'm starting to wonder if maybe, just maybe, he's doing it on purpose.

"already hard at it i see."

my stomach dips slightly as the sound of his gentle baritone reaches my ears. i fight the urge to fiddle with my hands, nervous over the intensity of our last conversation.

"i have to leave training a bit early today to meet with the high lord--rhysand--so i figured i should come put in some extra work to make up for it." the corners of his mouth tilt up slightly and my shoulders relax at the pleased expression that crosses his face. after a moment he tips his head towards the sparring mat.

"well then, you'd better get back to it."

he follows me across the ring and we immediately start running through some sparring exercises before progressing to a series of attacks and blocks with practice swords. we easily fall back into our usual routine, no hint of awkwardness anywhere to be found. but i don't miss the way he skips past the block i kept fumbling the last time we trained.

"wait," i say, pausing my movements. empowered by his words from last night, i take a breath to steady myself before continuing. "i want to try that one again. the block from weeks ago. i want to try it again."

he gives me an assessing look, a slight twitch of his fingers the only sign of his nervousness of trying it again so soon after my outburst. after a moment he gives me a simple nod in agreement before assuming the position to begin practicing.

we start out much like we did the last time, with me fumbling it over and over again, unable to find my rhythm. i can feel my frustration grow with every failure, but i push through it, steeling myself and trying to keep focused.

when yet another fumble ends with my landing hard on my knees, i pause for a second, closing my eyes to breathe through the pain. i open them to find azriel standing in front of me, hand outstretched, a cautious look in his eyes. "maybe we should call it for today. run through some basic exercises and stretches and then try again tomorrow."

i consider his offer from a moment, my aching and bruised body begging for rest. but then i remember his face when he made me promise to not give up, the hint of pride in his expression when talked about the fire he saw in me. and so, fueled by pure determination, i grab his hand to pull myself up and look him in the eye as i respond. "no, i can do it."

his eyes spark and the corners of his lips twitch slightly as if fighting a smile at my words. "alright then," he replies simply before assuming position to start the drill again. "let's run through it step by step so i can figure out where exactly you're going wrong."