Ronan kept his word, if you could call it that with a straight face.
The next morning, before the sun had even decided to show up, he yanked me out of bed and hauled me outside. No warning, no heads-up. Just a giant paw clamped around my arm and the door banging shut behind us.
"Prove you can survive," he said, shoving an axe at me like it was a gift.
The handle was rough and splintery, way too big for my hands. It dragged at my arms, which were still aching and half-healed. I just stared at the chunk of wood he pointed to, then looked at him like he'd lost his mind.
"You want me to split that?"
He crossed his arms, looking like a wall. "If you can't, you don't eat."
Inside, I could feel the sisters watching through the shutters. Smart enough to stay out of it.
I lifted the axe, hands shaking, ribs screaming under Selvara's neat bandages. My first swing was a joke. The blade stuck maybe an inch deep, and I had to yank it out while Ronan snorted behind me.
"Pathetic."
