Kristie Cook - Devotion

She flicked her hand and pointed us toward the main space. What had been a bare room only a few minutes ago now held various sized punching bags on stands and hanging from the beams. I glanced down at the sundress and Mom's borrowed cardigan I wore.

"Mom could have warned me," I muttered. "I don't have many clothes that fit, but I do have running wear."

"No worries. You both have training clothes in there." Charlotte pointed to a doorway next to the weapons area. "And you should have new clothes in your suite by the end of the day, by the way."

Tristan and I changed together in the little room that contained only a bench with two piles of clothes on it. I held up a black sports bra and black spandex pants–the only clothes for me–and nearly groaned, until I remembered my new body. Tristan had been given nothing but a pair of loose black pants. With his hair pulled back in a ponytail, he looked as though he belonged in a martial-arts film, ready to fight in a tournament or take on his self-righteous teacher. In other words, he looked delicious.

"I'm supposed to concentrate with you in that?" Tristan asked, his eyes traveling up and down my body. I couldn't help it. I shivered.

"Ditto," I muttered and forced myself to tear my eyes from his very bare, very lickable chest. I contemplated our feet instead. "But no shoes or boots?"

"Not necessary yet," Charlotte answered as we returned to the main room. She stood by a hanging bag. "So, we start small and we'll get as far as we can, while we can. I could be called to the field again at any time. Tristan can always take over for me, but it's easier to have us both here."

"Okay, then let's do it." I had nowhere else to be except with Rina, so the sooner we finished today's training, the sooner I could work with Rina and the sooner I would learn about the mysterious girl.

We started with various punches: jabs, hooks, crosses and uppercuts, as well as martial arts chops and strikes. Tristan demonstrated the moves and Charlotte watched my form.

"Some inaugural meeting for the two of us, huh?" Charlotte asked as I practiced my right hook.

"Hmph," I grunted as my fist slammed into the bag. "Are they always so intense?"

"Martin says they can be. I guess it's better than boring. I could have killed Sophia for making me go to those meetings."

An "I know" almost slipped from my lips, which would have required an explanation, so I simply hummed in agreement.

"I think she did it just so she wouldn't have to be alone with all of them," Char continued as she circled me and the punching bag, eyeing my technique as I threw the punches. "They can get … intense, as you said. Especially when it comes to the next daughter."

"So I noticed," I muttered.

"Now practice with your left," she said.

I threw what I thought was a left hook. Tristan said it was more of a jab and showed me the correct way, then put me to work, repeating the move.

"I don't see why they're so uptight about another daughter," Charlotte went on. "If Rina and Sophia say it's going to happen, we need to let it happen when it's supposed to. Otherwise …"

I slowed my moves when she didn't finish. "Otherwise what?"

She tapped her finger against her lips. "Well, there's a reason Dorian came by himself, right?"

I stopped my punches and stared at her.

"Charlotte," I said, "do you know Chandra very well?"

"Sure. I often work under her when I'm in India or the surrounding area. Why?"

"She mentioned something about Dorian not going to the Daemoni."

Char pressed her lips together and nodded. "Some people want to believe that. In fact, some think he might even be able to lead the Amadis."

"What?" My eyebrows flew up. I glanced at Tristan, but skepticism darkened his eyes.

"Martin has mentioned it, but I don't see how. We've always been a matriarchal society." She shrugged. "It's not my forte and it's pointless to speculate. My job, at least for now, is to teach you how to protect yourself. Tristan, let's show her some kicks."

After I practiced a variety of kicks, we moved on to combination moves. At first it was exhilarating, even fun, but eventually it became tedious as they made me practice the same moves over and over again. My body, into the rhythm, did everything on its own, while my mind wandered, thinking about Dorian, the council meeting, the "voices" and what the one said about the girl. Then I thought about Rina and wanting to work with her instead of doing these silly exercises.

"Alexis!" Tristan's bark snapped me out of it. "Pay attention!"

My mind returned to my surroundings. The punching bag I'd been working with swung violently on its chain, its insides bursting out of a huge hole.

"Did I do that?" I asked, jumping out of its way as it swung toward me.

"Yes! Because you're not focused." Tristan's angry growl bemused me.

"I'm sorry. I'll fix–"

"The bag's not a problem," Charlotte said, her voice much calmer than Tristan's as she waved her hand. The stuffing sucked back inside the bag and the hole closed itself. "But your lack of concentration is."

"Yes, it is a problem," Tristan said. "You have to focus. When you're in the middle of a fight, your mind must be one-hundred-percent directed on what you're doing. You can't let it wander."

"But I'm just doing the same hits and kicks over and over–"

"You need to learn the moves. Your muscles must memorize them."

"Which they seem to be doing very well," Charlotte added, more kindly than Tristan's tone, but then her voice became firmer. "But you must be alert and aware at all times, regardless of how mundane the situation seems."

I shook my shoulders and arms out. "I'm sorry. I'll focus more."

Tristan walked away from the punching bags, over to an open area. "Practice on me, not the bags. Maybe then you'll pay attention."

"I said I'd focus." I didn't understand why he seemed so upset. You'd think the punching bag might suddenly grow arms and fight back when I wasn't watching.

"I want to see how much strength you're putting into it."

I blew at the hair that had escaped my ponytail and fell in my face. "Fine."

"Do the jab and roundhouse combo," he said. "Full strength."

I did the move several times. He could take my full strength, although his balance faltered more than once.

"Good. You could probably knock out a large man with that kick. But you don't always need to make them unconscious. Sometimes you only want them on the ground. Use less strength."

So I did. Tristan's anger ebbed as we did the moves several times and I controlled my strength.

"Now," Charlotte said, "pretend Tristan is a Norman about to enter danger and you only need to scare him so he'll run away. Hardly any force. Just enough to grab his attention."

I lightened up more, barely striking Tristan with my hand or foot. I continued the moves as long as they kept saying, "Go!" and, as I swung my leg around in what felt like a lazy roundhouse, I wondered how much longer we'd be at this because it really was ridiculous. Fist fighting? Really? When I could shoot a lightning bolt out of my hand? This was a waste of time I could be spending with Rina.

The next thing I knew, my leg became trapped and my body suddenly flipped over, my stomach flipping with it. The hand released my leg and two arms caught me right before I hit the ground, breaking my fall. Still, they felt like two bars of steel against my back, knocking the wind out of me. The beams above swam in and out of focus. So did Tristan's face as he laid me on the ground and stood over me, his hands on his knees, his arms braced as he glared down at me.

"I said harder," he snarled.

"I didn't hear you." I meant to match his ferocity, but I was still catching my breath.

"Exactly." He turned and walked away.