Chapter 237 Ava: Wrung Dry

By the time we exit the training room, Vanessa and Marcus have to hold me up to walk in a straight line.

It isn't the type of exhaustion where my muscles are sore and stretched and tired after running or doing a thousand squats. It's more like the energy in my body has bled away, leaving me so weak that my muscles can no longer function properly.

When exercising, you can kind of feel good about your exertion. The pain and exhaustion comes with a sense of accomplishment.

This?

It just feels like I'm a wet dish rag wrung out one too many times.

The water's gone, and now I'm going to float away on the next strong breeze.

Ava! Where did you go?

Selene's panic is so explosive in my head that my legs buckle, even with the support of two shifters.

Long story. Training room. Magic place. My body's dead. Training sucks.

Even in my head, I can only speak in short sentences. It feels fuzzy and also like something's slamming into it with a sledgehammer, fueled by the rage of a thousand flying monkeys.

Not sure where the flying monkeys came from, but I'm just going to go with it.

Are you okay? she asks, and the warmth and care from her side of the bond also seems to infuse me with a little bit of extra energy.

also makes me feel a little better. Like having a parent who's panicked after they wake up in the middle of the night to see

Orion says, peering at

jerks up. "What? No. Why do

sorry. You

like that," Vanessa says, sounding

despite his

experience," I mutter, wishing I had the strength to shove the both of

They're way too comfortable making fun of me for such

have with your wolves is unique, indeed. If I had the time, I'd love to pick it apart. Especially you, Ava Grey, to have a wolf outside of your body, like the Lycans of old. And yet

feel like he's going to slice me open and look at me under a microscope, Selene says, and I can feel her

"Why do you call her by her

We don't have a first and last name as you humans do, you see. We do have a family name, but it isn't

name, wouldn't it be a part of your identity?" I ask with a frown, as Vanessa and Marcus help settle me into a chair. With a wave of his hand,

different cuts of meat. I've learned since coming here that Fae food doesn't always have a particular corresponding animal to the ones we are used to in our world; for example, their steaks might be from a

and—most importantly—have

the possibility when I brought it up, but I haven't told him the entire story of Sister Miriam and the Fae food. I'm still not certain on the allegiances of people in this city, and I'm hesitant to get Sister Miriam in trouble for possibly going outside of some sort of

eye. Everything on the table is food I've had before and enjoyed; I'm not blind

realizes how exhausted I

question. "Your identity is not defined by your family. Even when one is disowned, they remain

talking about my family dynamics, but I

his question

our family," I

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