The stronger person received the opportunity, while the weaker one was expected to step aside with a smile and accept that they had not worked hard enough.
But she had worked hard enough.
That was what angered her the most.
There had not been a single morning when she had allowed herself to sleep longer than necessary.
She trained before sunrise, attended every lesson she could afford, completed dangerous assignments for the Alliance, and returned to the training grounds even when her muscles screamed for rest.
There were nights when the skin across her palms split open so badly that she could barely close her fingers around the hilt of her sword, yet she wrapped them in cloth and continued anyway.
Everything she possessed had been purchased with her own blood and effort.
Her first sword had been a cheap, poorly balanced thing bought from a traveling merchant who had clearly overcharged her after noticing that she was unfamiliar with the local currency.
