Elemental Heir | ✔️

Chapter 27

(WARNING! This chapter contains mature content and sexual themes. Read at your own risk...)

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The next day, I sifted through my closet in search of something to wear to the training rooms. I scowled at all of the dresses, sweaters, and leggings, wondering what the hell I was going to do. None of this would work for fighting.

After another ten minutes of throwing random clothes over my shoulders, strewing them all around my bedroom, I finally gave up.

I stormed into the kitchen, grumbling beneath my breath, and found a bowl of fresh fruit waiting for me, along with a streaming cup of coffee. I downed half the cup of sweet liquid before biting eagerly into a crisp, juicy pear. The gritty, sugary flesh of the fruit dissolved on my tongue as I paced around the living room, waiting for Warrick to arrive.

I glanced down at the black leggings and sweater I was wearing. If I showed up to a room full of Dragon and Fae warriors dressed like this, eager to train, they'd surly all have a good laugh. I groaned and set my breakfast down before scurrying back to my room.

I gasped in shock when I walked through the open doorway. The clothes that I'd thrown around the room were gone, somehow immaculately hung back inside of my closet. My eyes darted around the floors, searching for the several pairs of shoes I'd discarded there, only to find them tucked against the far, left wall in a neat, organized line.

"That's a little creepy..." I muttered, walking toward the bed.

But when my eyes fell upon the set of clothing that had been laid out, I immediately grinned. "Did I say creepy? I meant to say brilliant."

On my bed, there was my own array of daggers, a bow with arrows, and my own personal set of women's fighting leathers. They looked similar to Dristan's, only mine were of black leather instead of dark brown.

The pants were tight fitting, with several pockets and weapon sheathes built in. The top was long sleeved, and just as tight fitting as the pants. It had a long zipper at the front, connecting all the way from the bottom, to the neckline, which was cut quite low. There was also a pair of black, shiny, knee high boots. They looked expensive, and sturdy enough to last years.

I picked up the fabric, feeling the sturdiness of it beneath my fingers. It felt soft and breathable, like it wasn't made of leather at all. I furrowed my brows in confusion. To the eye, it looked thick and tough, like hide. But then, why did it feel like cotton?

Curious, I laid the clothes back down and picked up one of the sharp, gleaming daggers from my bed. An idea crept into my mind.

I raised the knife above my head and plunged it down into the center of the shirt. My blow was met with a substantial force of resistance, which did not make sense, seeing as the fabric felt as thin as a regular shirt.