“Captain, are you unwell?”

Faolán’s words prickled Miina's senses. It seemed he'd been calling her, and it was obvious once again that she'd been spacing out. The broad wolf lowered his head to her, his golden eyes marred with concern. Miina blinked and straightened her back. “Yes—No, I mean, no. I’m fine. Sorry, I… uh, I was just thinking about the training schedules,” she lied.

The wolf kept a dubious stare while he straightened himself, and she readied her stance. This wasn't the place to lose focus, much less in front of Faolán. He was too good to be wasting his time training with her. She also wasn’t keen on a humiliating beating in front of the newer recruits; not when they already spared side glances at the soul who was to be their captain and who happened to be about less than half their size. This was nothing new. Miina's captaincy did not come free from judgement. On the contrary. It wasn't said aloud, not that she had ever heard it, but as a measly human soul, it was a requirement to constantly prove herself. At some point, after accepting Leviathan's blackmail to become his captain, she had made these training domes her second home.

Wooden spear in hand, Faolán advanced and they began. Miina gripped hers, making sure her body was loose and nimble. She was no match for a wolf, let alone one the size of Faolán. Her speed had been a close ally when she faced other demons, but often unreliable when it came to Faolán. Insufficient, more like. Still, Miina was smaller, lighter, flexible, endowed with unparallelled coordination and perseverance. In most one-to-one face-offs, her basic training from when she was alive helped fill the gaps, or at the very least, helped her get up quickly after a nasty knockdown. She wasn't one to stay down easily. 

It was also to her gain to have one of Court's most skilled and admired warriors train with her and teach her their way.

Just then, Faolán threw a kick behind her back after she swung and missed. It sent her staggering ahead until she buckled and landed a kiss on the sandpit. He was going easy on her. Any other day, his kick would've seen her flying across the pit.

Miina got on her feet quickly, and faced him. The two circled each other.

“You’re sure you’re feeling up to this today? Rest days are also part of training.”

Miina was sweating and panting, the exhaustion from missed sleep already weighing her eyes. She waved the wolf's comment with a curt nod and wiped her temple and the sand from her lips. The lance in her hands felt heavy; bothersome. She much preferred her knives, but if she was to confront demons, something with a long reach was better to counter their long limbs, horns or claws. But it wasn’t just these small hurdles that held her back.

Miina groaned. When not forcing herself to obsess with training, the tailed demon flooded her mind. Not in a good way, either. The way her body craved him wasn't natural; it couldn't be. Since that first time, when his room was still that dungeon of perversion and Miina tied him up against his wheel, she had been losing all notion of control. Worse. She’d been seeking him out like a goat in heat!

She had tried to blame it on the paralysing nightmares she'd been having of late. Sometimes, they were of her previous life, when her father destroyed their family. More often though, her dreams were plagued by the demons who hunted her in Hell; of Nimae, the settlement in Hell that had welcomed her and offered refuge, only to be ravaged by Beelzebub-the monster. For the last few weeks, it got worse, until she couldn’t manage from lack of sleep.

Two slips were all it took. The first, when she fell asleep in his chair. The second, when she confided in him about her nightmares, and understood that she only slept well in his chambers. And he reeled her in.

No, that wasn’t right either, who was she kidding. He had her like a fish on a hook for months before that. To make sense of this to herself made her mind swirl and her palms sweat. To attempt to explain it to anyone else was simply impossible. Even to Mara.  

The curve of his lips, the heat of his breath, the feel of his hair under her fingers, his tight hold on her, the way his eyes turned into that flaming Green; it didn’t matter, things happened to her. Her stomach would quiver, and her breaths would quicken. It could and would happen anywhere, at anytime. Even when she was on duty, right beside him. She was constantly wanting to kiss him, craving to be held again so tightly. And she did. They did. At the hound stables, whenever he went to check on *Char; behind the training grounds, next to the kitchens; in an isolated cove in the palace’s hall; in his bedroom! So long as there were no eyes on them, it didn’t matter. One time, in his bedroom, Leviathan stepped out of his shower and held a stand-up meeting with his guards whilst almost naked. His comfort and pride swelled in the room so much that Miina had to storm out. But the image of him in that disruptive state lingered; before she had realised, she had made a full circle around the palace and was back in his room after everyone had left. A heat rose in her chest recalling it now.

Somewhere along the line, she'd been certain the demon had done something to her; that he maybe used the Grey on her. But her hapless and increasing impulses confirmed otherwise. Every time she gave in to them, she was inching closer to trouble. With each embrace, his tenderness and desire increased and at the same time, something within her surrendered. It was as if she was approaching the eye of the storm, finally grasping relief and peace in his embrace, except it couldn't be. Not with Leviathan. What happened yesterday in his bed had been too dangerous, seeing her almost giving in. To Leviathan, the demon of sadistic perversions! This had to stop. She would find a way to switch it off. Otherwise, she was just as sadistic and perverted!

This time, she ducked from Faolán’s sweep, and rolled on the sand, stopping on one knee and then throw her lance at Faolán’s shin. It grazed him, but it didn’t throw him off balance. If the spear had had its usual iron tip, it would've drawn blood.

Some clapped and cheered her title, while Faolán widened his eyes and bore his fangs. Not so long ago, it would've terrified Miina, though now she interpreted some of the wolves’ expressions.

“I see you’ve been practising that smile,” she grinned. “But it’s the eyes, Faolán. Just narrow them down a bit so you don’t look like you’re hungry for my soul.”

Faolán approached and they clasped forearms to help her up. “Well done.”

 Soft murmurs spread around the training grounds announcing the king’s arrival. Miina spotted Leviathan at the far end of the dome, already removing his vest and handing it to the nearest imp. He cracked his neck, wrist-flipped his double axes, and beckoned for his opponents.

It was in this very area she first saw him train, and it felt like a lifetime ago now. She was someone else then; the fearful grey servant with no memories of herself, terrified of breathing her presence away while she walked past. Back then he had faced three wolves. Now, he welcomed double that number.

He still preferred to train shirtless, she noted, showing off his long tattoo in full display across the side of his chest. His hair was longer now, so he could tie it back, but those loose strands dancing around his face did nothing to shift her stare. There he was, her bait and hook, all in one.

She repressed a small flinch when his eyes found hers momentarily. However, unlike other times, Leviathan was the first to look away, calling instead for his sparring partners to push harder. Maybe their last conversation still hurt him. It had to be that stupid comment she made about his kingship. Or the whole fight she picked for no obvious reason. On the whole, any of those reasons made her feel ridiculous.

“Miina, they’re here,” Faolán said, and she realised it was almost vexing having to pull her eyes away.

“Huh?”

“The souls.” Faolán tilted his spear to guide her gaze.

In the opposite direction, an orderly circle of wolves led a group of weary looking souls. They did not look like the typical souls found at Court, most easily confused with demons, so long they'd been wandering and surviving Hell. It was clear that they had condemned themselves further, forging a path to becoming veritable devils. Miina could tell with one glance; these souls had eaten their kind. She had seen many of them before coming to Court. They were most likely unaware of it, or the fact that they were already changing into demons. Left alone, they would have kept on roaming Hell for many more years as rogue demons until they recovered a sense of self again. At Court, they stood a chance at having a steady transformation and some purpose.

Leviathan's words the day before about Hell rang in Miina's mind, and now that she saw them, she couldn’t help but swallow the truth in them. She looked at the king, finding he stared right back at her. Wordlessly, Leviathan resumed his training.

From where she observed, some very few, still had some brightness. A small, negligent flicker, but it still shone.

TBC.