Aria returned to the training yard six weeks later, against the healer's advice and entirely with Vael's encouragement.
"You have been a mother for two months," Vael said, tossing her a practice stave. "You are about to be a queen defending a child from an unknown southern threat. The two facts are not in conflict. Catch."
Aria caught the stave.
It felt strange in her hands after so long. Heavier. Her body had changed, was still changing, soft in places it had not been and weaker in others. The first few strikes Vael sent at her got through her guard easily, and Aria found herself flat on the sand within the first minute, breathing hard, frustrated.
"Again," Vael said, offering a hand up.
"I am slow."
"You had a child eight weeks ago. Of course you are slow." Vael hauled her upright.
