Two weeks passed in a blur of training and bruises.
Violet's body was transforming. Not dramatically—she was still small, still thin from years of illness. But muscle was building beneath skin. Her movements grew sharper. More certain.
The wooden training daggers became extensions of her hands.
Kari pushed harder each day. Adding complexity. Testing limits.
"Block!" The strike came fast—aimed at Violet's ribs.
She twisted, brought her dagger up. The impact jarred her arm but she held.
"Counter!"
Her second blade lashed out. Kari sidestepped easily but nodded approval.
"Again. Faster."
They moved through the drill. Again. Again. Again.
Until Violet's lungs burned and sweat soaked through her training clothes despite the cold.
"Enough." Kari lowered her weapons. "You're improving. But you're still hesitating before committing to strikes."
"I don't want to hurt you—"
"I'm a master of the Snow Leopard style. You couldn't hurt me if you tried with everything you have." Kari's yellow eyes were serious. "But that hesitation in training becomes hesitation in real combat. And hesitation kills."
She sheathed her daggers. "Tomorrow we spar with real blades. Dulled edges, but real weight. Real balance."
Violet's stomach tightened. "Real blades."
"You're ready." Kari turned to leave. "Or you're not. Tomorrow we find out which."
***
That night, Violet couldn't sleep.
She lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, mind churning through every technique Kari had taught. Every mistake she'd made. Every weakness still present.
Real blades tomorrow.
One wrong move and she could seriously injure herself. Or worse—fail so completely that Kari decided she wasn't worth teaching anymore.
The pressure built in her chest until breathing felt difficult.
Finally, she gave up on sleep. Slipped out of bed and padded to the main room.
Maria sat by the dying fire, mending clothes by candlelight.
She looked up when Violet appeared. "Can't sleep?"
"No." Violet sat beside her mother. "Tomorrow Kari wants to spar with real weapons."
"Ah." Maria set down her needle. "And you're worried."
"What if I'm not ready? What if I freeze up or make a stupid mistake or—"
"Violet." Maria's hand covered hers. "Do you trust Kari?"
"Yes."
"Then trust her judgment about your readiness." Maria squeezed gently. "She wouldn't give you real blades if she thought you'd hurt yourself. She's harsh, but she's not cruel."
Violet was quiet for a moment. Then: "Were you ever this scared when you were learning magic?"
Maria's expression shifted. Something sad and wistful crossing her features.
"Every day," she said softly. "Terrified I'd mess up. That people would realize I was just a bastard pretending to be worthy of the gift I'd been given."
She looked at the fire. "Fear doesn't mean you're not ready. It just means you understand the stakes."
"How did you deal with it?"
"I didn't, really." Maria smiled slightly. "I just... did the thing I was afraid of anyway. And then the next thing. And the next. Until one day I realized the fear was still there, but it wasn't stopping me anymore."
She turned back to Violet. "You'll do the same tomorrow. You'll be scared. And then you'll pick up those daggers and fight anyway. Because that's who you are."
Violet leaned against her mother's shoulder. "When did you get so wise?"
"I'm not wise. I'm just old enough to have made every mistake already." Maria kissed the top of her head. "Now go back to bed. You need rest."
"Will you tell me a story first? Like you used to when I was little?"
Maria's laugh was warm. "You're still little."
"I'm nine!"
"Exactly. Still little." But she was already settling back in her chair, pulling Violet close. "Once, in a land where winter lasted forever..."
Her voice wove through the darkness, familiar and soothing. A story Violet had heard dozens of times but never tired of.
About a girl who learned to turn ice into flowers. Who made beauty from cold. Who proved that even frozen things could bloom.
Violet's eyes grew heavy. The fear didn't disappear. But it settled. Became manageable.
By the time Maria finished, Violet was already half-asleep.
"Come on," Maria murmured. "Let's get you to bed properly."
She helped Violet back to her room. Tucked her in like she was still a small child.
"Mama," Violet mumbled, already drifting. "Love you."
"Love you too, littlebird." Maria smoothed her hair back. "Always."