Chapter Nine
“Ow!”
I snatch my throbbing hand to my chest and scowl at the punching bag. It barely has the decency to swing, despite the fact that I’ve just thrown my considerable body weight at it. I’m pretty sure the only damage I’ve managed to inflict with my strike is on myself.
Galizia makes atsksound. “Your grip’s wrong again.”
“You don’t say?” I snap, shaking out my swollen, red knuckles. “Can we call it a night, now? It’s past ten. We’ve been at this for two hours and I think I’m only getting worse.”
“Princess, if you spent half as much time working on your grip as you do whining about it, you wouldn’t be in so much pain. Now, try it again, but this time do it like I showed you — keeping your thumb wrappedaroundthe knuckles, not tucked inside. Tight, but not so tight you lose circulation. Feet light, shoulders square. Move with the bag. And remember, your index and middle fingers have the strongest knuckles in your hand, so you want to lead with them when you make impact.”
“Sure, sure. Whatever. Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee.”
“Sarcasm won’t improve your technique, Muhammad Ali.”
I roll my eyes and adjust my stance. My next few punches are marginally better, but it’s safe to say I have a long way to go before I’m ready for my first cage match. Still, I must admit, Galizia was right — there’s something cathartic about slamming your fists against a bag, sweating out the tension trapped inside your bloodstream.
After meeting with my father this morning, I couldn’t seem to get his words out of my head, no matter how many laps I paced back and forth in my bedchambers or how many hours I spent standing in Ginger’s stall, brushing her glossy coat and feeding her sugar cubes after our two-hour ride.
You’ve already captured the hearts of the press, of the public.
You have the natural charisma of a true leader.
You are poised to become one of the most influential queens in the world.
I’ve been so wrapped up in the utter obligation of it all, I never really stopped to think about it — the possibility that I might actually begoodat this. At being something more than a wild-haired college student with small dreams and a set career path.
At being a Lancaster.
A royal.
A queen.
Needless to say, it was a lot to digest all at once.
When Galizia came to my chambers for her final check-in of the night, she found me pacing a hole through my floorboards, my dinner sitting untouched on a platter by the terrace, my fists clenched into balls by my sides. She took one look at me and ordered me to follow her.
The last place on earth I expected her to bring me was the Gatehouse. I haven’t been back since my blowout with Bane, and stepping so much as a toe in his territory — even in the off-hours, when no one else is around — makes me more than a little edgy.
Thanks to Galizia, I soon found myself enrolled in her version of basic training. Or as I’m fond of calling it,the most painful two hours of my life. I swear, my arms are going to fall off if we keep this up for much longer.
Blessedly, before she can issue any more orders, the doors to the practice arena are yanked open. I brace myself for the incoming storm of Bane’s contempt, but instead am pleasantly surprised to see a familiar figure strolling inside.
“Hereyou are!” Chloe calls, exasperated. She flips her long red hair over one shoulder of her stylish, fur-trimmed jacket and stalks toward us on sky-high stiletto boots. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere!”
“Well, you found me. Nancy Drew’s got nothing on you, Chloe.”
“I had to flirt the information out of a very nervous pageboy. I’m not certain that counts as true detective work, but…” Her nose scrunches. “What’s with the late-night workout session, anyway? You don’t workout. And you definitely don’t workout at this time of night. Usually you’re in the kitchens, bribing Patricia the cook for more chocolate chip cookies…”
“Trust me, I would much rather be doing that right now. Butsomeone—” I shoot Galizia a loaded glance. “—insists on keeping me in shape so I can run from assassins and dodge death threats, et cetera, et cetera… How unreasonable is that?”
I expect Chloe to laugh or crack a joke in response, but she says nothing. Probably because she’s finally turned her attention to Galizia. Her eyes are locked on the statuesque blonde with stark curiosity.
“And who mightyoube? I don’t believe we’ve officially met… and I thought I knew every hot guard in the castle.”
Galizia, ever the professional, snaps to attention and gives a formal nod of greeting. “Second Lieutenant B. Galizia. I serve Her Royal Highness directly.”
Chloe’s grin is shameless. “You know… if you’re ever looking for someone else toserve directly… maybe next time you’re off duty… ”