Chapter 75: Planning A Heist

And she gives up.

Esme found herself sprawled on all fours in the middle of the training ground, panting like a fish out of water.

Her elegant gown had long been traded for a white tunic, fitted breeches, sturdy boots, gloves, and a head wrap that was now askew. A wooden sword lay discarded at her side, now a pitiful reminder of her earlier enthusiasm.

With a groan, she finally gave up and collapsed flat on her back, her arms and legs spread wide as if she were making a dirt angel. At that moment, she didn't care about the six-foot-tall man looming over her, patiently waiting for her to pull herself together, and the ground, at that point, felt like home to Esme.

"How in the moon goddess's name did Finnian pick up all these skills in just… three years?" Esme mused aloud, her voice a mix of curiosity and disbelief. Donovan, who stood nearby with his usual calm, replied.

"You come from a pack of warriors. It's in your blood."