For someone who had spent years perfecting the art of invisibility, I was doing an absolutely terrible job of it.

After the whole Bhishma incident and my surprise introduction to Karna, I had one goal—avoid further humiliation. Blending into the background was an art, and I was determined to master it once again. But the palace had other plans.

It turned out that being noticed by the likes of Duryodhana and Karna came with its own set of problems. The palace servants, who had once barely acknowledged my presence, were suddenly whispering about me. Some seemed impressed that I had survived Bhishma's disappointment. Others were convinced I was on a fast track to disaster. Personally, I agreed with the latter.

Unfortunately, laying low was not an option when Prince Duryodhana himself sent for me the next morning.

"You," he said, eyeing me like I was some strange creature. "You amuse me."

"...Thank you?" I wasn't sure if that was a compliment or an insult.

He smirked. "I've decided that you should be useful."

That sent alarm bells ringing in my head. "I think I am useful," I said cautiously. "Very useful. Exceptionally useful. Somewhere else."

He ignored that. "Karna needs a sparring partner."

I blinked. "I think you mean 'Karna needs someone to practice killing.'"

Duryodhana laughed. "You exaggerate. He won't kill you. Probably."

That was not reassuring.

The training grounds were bustling with young warriors, each more talented than the last. And then there was me—unarmed, untrained, and deeply regretting every life choice that had led me here.

Karna stood waiting, a practice sword resting against his shoulder. He raised an eyebrow when he saw me. "This is a joke, right?"

"Trust me," I muttered, "I wish it were."

Duryodhana clapped me on the back. "She's quick. And unpredictable."

"Unpredictable as in clumsy?" Karna asked dryly.

"Yes."

Karna sighed and turned to me. "Alright. Try to hit me."

I stared at him. "With what? My disappointment in life?"

Duryodhana shoved a wooden sword into my hands. It felt awkward, heavy. I had no idea what to do with it.

Karna, ever patient, gestured for me to come forward. "Attack."

I hesitated, then swung the sword wildly. Karna sidestepped so effortlessly it was insulting.

"Sloppy," he said. "Again."

I tried again. And again. Each time, he dodged without breaking a sweat. By the fifth attempt, I was panting, while Karna looked like he was barely warming up.

Duryodhana was grinning like this was the best entertainment he'd had in weeks. "I think she's learning."

"I think she's dying," I corrected, resting my hands on my knees.

Karna sighed and stepped forward. "You're too tense. Loosen your grip."

I adjusted my hold. Karna moved behind me, his hands light on my wrists as he corrected my stance. "Balance your weight. And don't close your eyes when you swing."

"I wasn't—"

"Yes, you were."

I frowned, but he wasn't wrong. When I tried again, the movement felt smoother. Not good, but less embarrassing. Karna nodded approvingly. "Better."

I blinked. "Wait...did I actually do something right?"

He smirked. "Miracles happen."

Duryodhana laughed. "If she survives a week of training, I'll be impressed."

I would have been offended, but honestly? Same.

Author's Note: And thus, Rhea's journey into accidental warriorhood begins. Will she survive? Will she ever land a hit on Karna? Will Duryodhana ever stop being entertained by her suffering? Find out in the next chapter! (Spoiler: No, she probably won't land a hit. But she will try.)