His normally amused expression has gone sober. “No, you’re not.”
“The next time someone wants to try and use me, control me, I want to be ready. I want to crush those who would keep me under their thumb.”
His hazel eyes glitter with something like pride. “That sounds good to me, Gildy.”
It sounds good to me too.
He takes another polite sip of his water, since I know he’s only drinking because I am. It’s not like he’s expending a lot of energy when I haven’t even gotten past stances.
“Shall we get back to it?”
I nod and set down the water, slipping my hand into my pocket as I follow him back to the middle of the space again. For a moment, I let my fingers brush against the rolled up satin length that’s tucked away before I drag my hand back out again.
“Alright, basic defensive stance. Left foot forward. Push that shoulder back a bit. I want that elbow down in front protecting your midsection.”
I try to follow his every direction for the different stances he barks out, and for a while, I do okay, as if our talk and my determination alone helped steady me. But when it’s time to start moving my body quicker, I falter again.
Embarrassed heat flushes my neck, but I continue to pretend that nothing is amiss.
“Left foot forward, right foot back,” Judd instructs as he circles around me, studying my form. “Good. Now twist—like someone is coming at your back.”
I try. Really, I do.
As soon as I start to spin around, my weight topples, my spine jerking while my feet attempt to correct my movement and keep me upright.
“I’m sorry,” I blurt out with frustration. “Let me try again.”
Judd doesn’t hesitate, nor does he laugh at me. “Your posture is still wrong,” he tells me, coming up to tap my right shoulder. “Straighten out here, and get that heel down.”
I slam my heel into the ground, making sticks of hay split beneath my foot. I shove my shoulders back for the umpteenth time, silently screaming at my body.
“Relax your hands,” Judd says when he notices they’ve curled into fists.
Reluctantly, I release my fingers, shaking out my hands slightly.
Judd cocks his head. “Are you up to this? If your wounds—”
“Nothing is bleeding anymore, and Hojat wrapped me up and said I could do this,” I cut in. “I’m just getting used to these boots. I think they’re too big.”
I’m not sure if he knows I’m feeding him bullshit, but he nods. “Alright, get those feet planted. Good. This time, I want you to move left, raising that arm up in a defensive block. Ready? Three, two, move.”
It doesn’t matter how much I try to keep my feet planted. As soon as I try to do even the simplest maneuver of control, I realize I don’t have any. Just like all the times before, I lose my balance, one of my feet picking up before I can stop it, making me waver.
Judd frowns and looks down at my feet. “Do you want to try it without the boots?”
Frustration bubbles and boils inside of me, the heat of it splashing against my eyes.
“No. Let me try again.”
He hesitates. “Is something wrong?”
“Not at all,” I say with false brightness. “I’m probably just your worst student because I’ve never been trained before.”
“You were bad in the fight circle, but you weren’t this bad.”
I cut him a sharp look. “Thanks a lot.”
“You know what I mean,” he says with a wave of his hand. “Do you want to stop for the night?”
“Just keep telling me the moves.”
Stubbornness rides me, taking me by the reins. It steers my movements, propelling me to try again and again, but even dogged determination doesn’t help. Doesn’t make me balance any better.
My wavering just gets worse, and no amount of trying to hide it or making up stupid lies can excuse it away.
I’m failing.
Day one, and I’m already failing.
And yet, I have to do this. I have to learn how to be strong. But I can’t even fucking turn without teetering and—
Caught up in my growing frustration, I try to pivot too quickly. I’m topsy-turvy, like a spinning top that can’t stay on its point, and this time, my feet can’t catch me.
I crash to the ground on my side, landing hard, the ice-cold hay splintering through my coat and needling my skin. Needling my confidence until it deflates.
I shove up onto my hands and knees, but then I just stay there. Eyes slightly blurred, staring at the broken and dirty hay, the scent of it thick in my nose, the fluorescence dousing it all in blue.