Harper

After a night of rest, Maisie laid out an array of clothing on the bed for me, mostly pants, tunics, and corsets. A welcome relief from the dress Teeny gifted me. Not that I wasn’t grateful, but dresses just weren’t my thing. I preferred to move without worrying about tripping over a hem or feeling like a stiff breeze could make an embarrassing situation even worse.

I ran my fingers over the fabric before choosing a deep green tunic and a pair of fitted black pants. I debated on donning the corset, but I mean if I’m going to live in a fantasy realm as the protagonist, I might as well right? Well, the corset was trickier. I twisted in front of the faded mirror, adjusting the laces, but there was no getting around the fact that my breasts were basically front and center. If I needed a distraction tactic, I guess I had one.

With a sigh, I sat on the edge of the bed and bent down to lace up my boots, rolling my shoulders as I tried to shake the tension out of them. I’ve only been in this world a few days, and I was still trying to catch up, still trying to understand what the hell was expected of me.

The talk I had yesterday with Rhylen was not what I had expected. What direction are they trying to take this? I’m not the only person from Earth. Maybe these simulations act as a server and you can interact with others in the experiment. Why would Josh Carter be involved?

That’s another issue entirely. I think I’ve oversold my ability to help find him. All I know is rumors and tabloids about this man. Who knows what was true or not and it’s nothing that can assist me in a man hunt for him.

I bury my face in my hands and let out a long sigh.

A knock sounded at the door.

"Come in," I called looking up at the door.

No response.

Frowning, I stood and made my way to the door. The hesitation sent a prickle of unease up my spine, but when I swung it open, Arandur was standing stoically staring at me.

He filled the doorway, tall and unreadable, his dark eyes fixed on me with an unsettling intensity. Looking at him was like looking at a blade honed to an edge, sharp, deadly, and completely indifferent to whether or not it cut you.

"We leave this evening," he said, his voice smooth but clipped.

I raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And where are we going?"

"Moonlight Thicket."

That… sounded ominous. My lack of geographical knowledge was a serious disadvantage here. I had no idea whether Moonlight Thicket was a peaceful little village or some kind of monster-infested hellscape.

"Oh. That sounds… fun," I said, trying to match his deadpan expression.

It didn’t work. He remained silent, his gaze steady and unyielding. This guy is intimidating.

“Is that all?” I ask sheepishly.

"Thorin requests you for training this morning."

I blinked. "Thorin?" That caught me off guard. "I thought I’d be doing something more… clerical?”

Arandur’s gaze didn’t waver. "You need to learn to defend yourself. Right now, you are weak. A burden. The goal is to make you at least slightly less so."

Ouch.

I sucked in a sharp breath, feeling my pride sting. But… he wasn’t wrong. The other night, when I was attacked, I froze. I panicked. If someone hadn’t intervened, I wouldn’t be standing here. That realization settled deep in my gut, heavier than I wanted to admit.

"Fine," I said, rolling my shoulders back. "You leading the way, or should I just wander around aimlessly until I locate him?"

Arandur didn’t dignify that with a response. He simply turned on his heel, his dark cloak swirling behind him as he strode down the hall. I hurried to keep up.

We made our way down to the first floor then down another flight of stairs. The basement was a different from the rest of lodge. Cold, cavernous stone walls lined with an arsenal of weapons, swords, daggers, bows, axes. The air smelled of metal, damp stone and aged leather.

Across the room, Thorin was already at work, throwing axes at a target. Each blade hit its mark with a solid thunk, sinking deep into the wood. My mind flashed back to the man he threw an axe at to save me. I struggled with the fact that he killed a man, but also the that if he did not, it would be me who was dead. Thorin spotted Arandur and I watching him. He threw one last axe before turning towards us.

"Harper! Welcome to the worst day of your life!" Thorin’s booming laugh echoed off the stone walls.

I crossed my arms, standing my ground. "It’ll be hard to top anything I’ve had lately.”

There was humor in my voice, but in my heart, saying that, reminded me of why I was here.

Thorin smirked, "That sounds like a challenge."

Fantastic.

Arandur remained behind me, silent but watchful. His presence was a weight I was acutely aware of, even as Thorin walked up to us. The two exchanged a glance, something unspoken, but thick with meaning.

Arandur’s voice was low when he finally spoke. "Remember what Rhylen requested."

Thorin scoffed. "You two have only planted an idea in my head that I didn’t have before, and I make no promises."

I frowned, glancing between them. "What did Rhylen request?"

Thorin’s grin was all sharp teeth and amusement. "Don’t worry your pretty little head over it, lass. Now, let’s find you a weapon."

Arandur left without another word, and I felt an odd shift in the air between me and Thorin. I had no idea what kind of unspoken agreement had just passed between them, but I had the distinct impression that whatever it was, it involved me.

The weapon racks were overwhelming. Rows upon rows of steel and wood, each piece designed for one thing, violence.

"You’ll want something light," Thorin said, eyeing me up and down. "Your arms look frail."

Rude, but true.

I reached for a sword, determined to prove him wrong. As soon as I lifted it, my arm wobbled under the weight. Thorin barely held back a chuckle before plucking it effortlessly from my grip and sliding it back onto the rack.

Moving to the adjacent table, I studied the bows and daggers. Every YA protagonist seemed to wield a bow like a seasoned pro, so maybe I had some hidden archery talent?

I picked one up, feeling the smooth wood beneath my fingers. Light. Manageable.

"This might suit you," Thorin admitted. "Let’s grab some arrows and see what you’ve got."

I stepped in front of the target, notched an arrow, and pulled back. Or, at least, I tried to. The draw was significantly harder than I expected. I had to yank with all my might before I could aim and release.

The arrow barely made it halfway to the target before flopping uselessly to the ground.

Thorin bit back a laugh. "A valiant effort. Let me help."

Before I could protest, he moved behind me. Close. Very close.

His hands settled on my shoulders, firm and warm.

"Feet apart. Step back with your right foot."

I swallowed, forcing myself to focus.

"Place the arrow on the rest and nock it to the string," he murmured, his voice suddenly lower. His breath brushed against my ear, and I could feel the solid line of his body at my back.

"Relax. Think of it like holding a delicate bird. You don’t want to crush it."

Easier said than done when I could feel every inch of him behind me.

"Hook your fingers like this." His hand covered mine, adjusting my grip. I felt my pulse racing. "Draw the string back to the corner of your mouth. Look down the shaft of the arrow, take a deep breath, focus on the target… and release."

I let go.

The arrow shot forward, actually hitting the target, not a bullseye, but close enough.

A brief silence followed. That had felt… weirdly intimate.

I cleared my throat, stepping away. "Okay, awesome. Let me try that by myself."

Thorin smirked, his expression too knowing. Like he could see straight through me.

"Keep practicing, Earth Woman." He turned, walking toward the daggers.

I exhaled, shaking off whatever that was. One way or another, I would learn something, let’s just hope not all of my lessons are like that.