Page 55 of A Whisper of Cinders

“Keep walking, feather. Your heart is working overtime, pumping blood to your legs. If you don’t like fainting, I suggest you start moving and walk it off.”

My ears pick up what he’s saying, but oh, it is so hard to make my legs move and listen to the advice he gives me. Yet, I move one foot in front of the other. A snail would be faster right now.

After three more laps, my heartbeat gradually slows down. It’s no longer the galloping gazelle in my chest, but my body screams out in pain and soreness either way.

Conláed gives instructions to the group so they can begin their next exercise and he walks over to me once more. “Do you have any idea how long you’ve run? And I mean really running, not dragging yourself forward step by step.”

I squeeze my eyes at him. “I don’t know, thirty minutes maybe?”

He snorts. “Well, you think highly of yourself, let’s take that down by twenty.”

I stop walking and turn to him, frustration again building inside of me. “That cannot be true, I ran much longer —”

“Yes, that is true,” he says, interrupting me mid-sentence. “Let’s just say you ran for three minutes at your top speed before you began slowing down. You are out of shape to say the least. What have you been doing all your life?”

A punch to my gut would’ve been kinder. My blood begins to boil. “You have no idea…”

He holds up a hand, interrupting me once more. “I don’t and I don’t really care either. Go get some water at the fountain over there and come back once you’ve hydrated yourself.”

I open my mouth and close it again. Even if I would be brave enough to say something back, I’m not a rude person. Not even to a prick like him. Yes, he is insufferable, but I won’t lower myself to his level.

Instead, I search the fountain, noticing a weird rock formation about five feet high, where water runs between the cracks. Glasses stand on the table next to it and I grab one, holding it underneath the stream until it’s full.

The water is cool and tastes delicious, as if it really comes from a mountain somewhere around here. I fill another glass and down it within seconds.

My gaze lands on Conláed once more, the black fabric of his T-shirt clings to his body, the defined muscles of his stomach flexing as he moves. Why does the tormenter of my soul have to be so good looking? It’s unfair.

I shake off the thought and place my glass back on the table. I walk towards the mat, take my shoes off again and wait until Conláed is done explaining before he returns to me. He looks me up and down. “You good?”

I feel like a living corpse, but would rather die than admitting that. “I am.”

The look he gives me tells me he doesn’t believe me, but he nods either way and walks towards a corner of the mat, away from prying eyes. “Fighting is a dance of controlled chaos, where rhythm, footwork and instinct move in perfect harmony.” He quickly glances my way to see if I’m keeping up. “You…are not ready for that.”

Steam blows out of my ears. No, seriously. How is this man still alive? He knows no shame and… I sigh. Well, he does have a point. Again.

The smirk on his face is seconds away from breaking into laughter, but he seems to get a grip on himself. “What you are ready for is breathing exercises.” Not really what I was expecting him to say. “Breathing is fundamental while training and battling,” he explains. “It keeps you focused, steady and can keep panic at bay in precarious situations.”

He sits down cross-legged and gestures for me to do the same. I sigh, but oblige. Only because sitting down doesn’t sound half that bad right now. I leave some space between us, maybe three feet, but the heat that radiates off his body is impossible to ignore.

“Sit up straight.”

I do.

“Straighter.”

My backbone might be a stick for how straight I’m sitting, but I push my shoulders down even more and elongate my spine and neck.

“Better.” Alas, I am doing something good, who would’ve thought? “Now, keep that position, but try to move with your breathings. It should flow, and not be stiff as a board.”

He analyses me for a second and I do the same, even though I have no idea where this bravery comes from. But where he doesn’t lack the confidence, I unfortunately do. I resist the urge to look away until he speaks again. “Slowly breathe in through your nose, feel your diaphragm expand, and hold for four seconds. Then exhale through your mouth, again slow and steady.”

He demonstrates the movement and I follow along, feeling how my heartbeat slows down even more. Our breaths sync and after a couple of minutes of silence, he speaks again. “Close your eyes and focus on your breathing.”

A hand lands on both sides of my ribs and for a second I stop breathing. His touch burns and shivers crawl up my spine. “Breathe in and push your ribs out against my hands.” I follow his instructions, hoping he will release me, but not wanting him to let go either. After two deep breaths, his hands fall away, but his touch lingers. “Good.”

The world eventually fades away until I’m fully turned into myself. The air around me thickens and the scent of fire and citrus engulfs me. It’s a delicious combination that makes my heartbeat rise.

I move forward, unable to resist the tug I feel deep down. And right when I’m about to topple over, the scent disappears. I open my eyes, only to see Conláed walking away towards one of his students.