CHAPTER 135: HOW COULD YOU?

Aria had no choice but to bend down and pick up her sword, even as she stared at her reddened hands, shocked to see how unconcerned Varret looked.

Aria might not have been aware of it herself, but she had been getting used to being treated with respect as Zyren’s pet—which was why it was surprising to see a guard who didn’t so much as care that her hand was bruised.

"Zyren gave me permission to train you. That’s what I’m going to do," he said, almost like that sentence alone explained all it was she needed to know.

Aria nodded her head as she held the sword with both her hands, only to watch Varret shake his head as he placed the sword he held in his hand on the ground like a walking stick.

"Go ahead and swing it a thousand times," he instructed, even as Aria responded with a vastly confused expression on her face, like she couldn’t believe he would ask her to do such a thing—but he simply stared at her in a way that showed he was waiting to see his instructions obeyed.

Aria soon began to do as she was told, even as she counted under her breath, sweat beginning to pool on her forehead.

A hundred! she thought to herself with a frown, even as she wondered what kind of weird training method required her to do such a thing. Her hands ached, her back strained, and still, Varret just stood there, silent and unmoving.

It didn’t help that Varret simply stared at her without so much as doing anything else. His eyes didn’t wander. He didn’t blink. He didn’t speak. Just watched.

"Five hundred and one!" Aria suddenly gasped out loud with a trace of tiredness on her face, even as she lied through her teeth, continuing to count out loud—already relieved when Varret didn’t correct her.

Only to count three more swings and hear Varret speak.

"Ninety-two... Ninety-three... Ninety-four..." he began to count in a low, calm voice that made Aria frown and protest in response.

"What? It’s way more than that!" she snapped at him, no longer swinging the sword—especially since her arms felt like they were going to fall off.

"Five hundred? Really?" he asked with a stern look on his face that showed that nothing missed his gaze, even as Aria spat out the original number.

"It’s a hundred and five!" Aria told him, about to go ahead and continue swinging, only to watch Varret shake his head as he responded.

"It’s ninety-five," he said in a tone filled with finality, one that brooked no argument, one that felt like stone.

Aria was pissed, but at the same time, she knew that Zyren wouldn’t have assigned him to her if he didn’t think he was capable.

Squeezing her face into a frown, she raised the sword again and continued to swing it, ignoring the fact that her hands burned and her shoulders trembled with each movement. They felt like they were going to fall off.

If I lose my hands, there’s no way they would ask me to still fight, she thought, realizing that it was definitely a way to avoid fighting—though the risk wasn’t something she was actually willing to take.

By the time Aria got to six hundred, she couldn’t even raise her hands, even if she wanted to. She glared at Varret, sweat dripping down her face like a river, soaking into the collar of her shirt.

"We’ll end it here for the morning session, Lady Aria," he said, even as he bowed before moving forward to store the sword back where he had drawn it, then walked towards the door to push it open.

Aria didn’t even glance at him as she walked past him, headed straight back to her room upstairs. The last thing she wanted was to ever see his face again. Her legs ached with every step.

When she got to the front of the room, she wasn’t surprised to see Rymora standing there waiting—beyond delighted to see her sister, Liora, standing there with her.

"Liora!" Aria gasped, beaming from ear to ear as she rushed forward to hug her—only to be pushed away by Liora, who lovingly tapped her shoulder.

"I don’t know what you’ve been doing, sister—but you reek," she told her, even as Aria frowned, pushing the door open and gesturing for both of them to enter—something that was usually only allowed for maids.

The door had barely closed when Aria instantly stripped off her clothes, even as Liora began to speak.

"...So this is the king’s quarters," she noted out loud, standing in the center, looking around at the largeness of it and how lavish every single item seemed to be.

The left side was clearly where Aria’s things had been placed, while the right side belonged to Zyren. Liora was just about to get close to the table when Aria spoke up, shaking her head.

"Don’t!" she said directly, telling her not to move closer, even as she gestured for her to wait until she bathed. Aria moved quickly, stepping into the bathroom with Rymora, who helped her bathe and step out soon after.

Aria was not the least bit happy to see Liora standing right beside the table she had warned her not to go near.

"Liora!" she snapped, even as she dried her body off, gesturing for her to leave there—only to be a bit taken aback when Liora snapped back.

"Why should I? Isn’t this the best result? You live in the same room with him? Think of all the things we could find out about him!" Liora snapped, her eyes filled with a kind of anger that even Aria had never seen before.

"He killed our family. All of them. For that, he will pay. Or have you gotten used to the easy life?" Liora angrily snapped, even as Aria frowned as she responded.

"Of course not! How could I ever forget?"

"Well, you’re not acting like it!" Liora pressed, even as she moved closer to the table and picked up a letter that had been lying closed on it—only for Aria to hurry over and snatch it out of her hands before she could open it.

"I haven’t forgotten! But at the same time, I’m not trying to get myself killed! Zyren is not ordinary! He’s cruel, and if you push him, you have no idea what he—"

"What he’ll do?" Liora interrupted, her voice rising. "Do you know the rumors going around about you? The sheets that were taken to the servants’ quarters to be washed? The hickeys on your skin?"

Liora’s voice got louder, angrier, more hurt with every word.

"YOU SLEEP WITH HIM! HOW COULD YOU?"