by Dylan Steel
Nic nodded hesitantly. “A pretty straightforward one, yeah. A retrieval for me. Simple enough that I didn’t need to go into details with the other members of the panel.”
“Well, I didn’t realize you were behind it,” she continued shakily. “And I’m not sure what I thought exactly, but I knew it was a trial, and Amos wouldn’t tell me what was going on, and I know most of them still hate me even if I am technically one of them, and…” she trailed off and drew her knees to her chest, hugging them tightly, hoping it would help hide her trembling.
“Did you think the Kunbriat meant you harm?” Nic’s eyes narrowed, the slightest note of anger in his voice.
Meeting his eyes reluctantly, she nodded.
A muscle jumped in his jaw. He leaned closer, grabbing her arms as he spoke seriously. “I wouldn’t let that happen. You know that. Right? I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.”
Part of her knew he couldn’t make that kind of a promise and keep it—at least, not for long. Kunbriat or not, a recent graduate wouldn’t have much power in the world outside of the Institution’s gates.
But that part of her, the rational part, melted away under the firmness of his grasp and the earnestness of the vow present in his piercing gaze. She allowed him to fold her into his arms, pushing aside the fears that constantly haunted her. For a small fraction of time, she could allow herself to just be happy.
She managed a small smile. “I know you want to. I just—it’s hard after everything, you know? Even the Institution couldn’t protect me, so sometimes it’s hard to remember that I’m not in constant danger.”
His gold eyes flinched, turning steely. “That should never have happened. But they took care of the people responsible, and that will never happen again.”
He dropped his hands to his sides and let out a breath, forcing himself to relax. “I’m sorry I couldn’t stop that from happening, but you can be sure that the Kunbriat won’t hurt you. Whether they like it or not, you’re one of them—one of us—and they are bound to protect their own. You’re entirely safe with them, and if anyone ever got some insane idea that you weren’t, I would make sure they knew the consequences of betraying one of our own.” He nodded, almost to himself. “You will be safe.”
“I hope so,” Sage said quietly, not wanting to talk about it anymore. All that mattered was that she was safe right now. But she still wasn’t sure how much she could say to Nic—he’d made his feelings about the Lawless perfectly clear, which meant that most of the details of her past needed to stay a bit murkier. Not that she could fault him for it—most everyone in Eprah felt the same way, and it wasn’t like she’d reaffirmed her undying loyalty to their cause after they’d used her so callously.
He gathered her into his arms and stroked her hair tenderly. A pleasant thrill raced over her skin, making her smile despite herself. Forced by Eprah or not, this pair thing was something she could get used to.
“You’re safe with me,” he murmured. “Always.”
She was starting to believe him.
Nuzzling deeper into his arms, she rested her head against his chest, smiling contentedly as she listened to the steady thump-thump of his heart. As her eyes swept downward, she noticed him playing with a small item with one of his hands. She frowned, trying to figure out what he was holding.
The cuff.
Her heart skipped a beat as she watched him pass it back and forth between his fingers.
“So, uh…” Nic stopped and licked his lips, swallowing hard before trying again. “I was wondering if you’d thought any more about, uh…”
A grin played at Sage’s lips. He was kind of cute when he was nervous. She put her hand on his, freezing the cuff’s trajectory mid-pass. Plucking it from his hand, she leaned away and held it up between them, meeting his eyes.
“I think I’d like to wear this now if that’s ok.”
Nic nodded eagerly and swept her hair back so that he could fasten it to her ear.
“It looks perfect,” he breathed.
The corners of her mouth lifted in a smile. She touched her hand to her ear, feeling the coolness of the metal beneath her fingertips.
“It feels kinda funny.” She snapped her mouth closed. Of all the things she could’ve said, of course she’d say that. Way to ruin a perfect moment.
Nic laughed. “Give it at least two minutes before you decide you don’t want to wear it. Hopefully you’ll get used to it pretty fast.”
“You’re probably right,” she said, wishing she could will the redness from her cheeks.
“And don’t worry. You won’t get in trouble with any instructors for wearing it.” He leaned in closer. Her stomach gave a flip as he whispered in her ear. “I made sure of it.”
She frowned. “How did you—”
Nic cut off her question with a kiss. The feeling of his lips on hers was unexpected—and sensational. Her stomach tumbled happily as she felt her body eagerly lean into his.
A surprising torrent of emotions swept over her in an instant. Guilt at how worried she’d been walking up the stairs. Relief that Nic had been the one behind the whole evening. Happiness that he was her pair. But mostly, pleasure at the delightful fluttering sensations filling her chest. That was easy enough to focus on.
He pulled back, searching her eyes cautiously as if he were worried he’d made a mistake.
She blinked. Her heart was pounding loudly in her ears. “So that’s what it’s like being paired.” A smile slowly spread over her face. “Ok, then.”
The tension eased from around Nic’s eyes as he grinned back at her. “Ok,” he said, his eyes dropping back to her lips. “We’ll have to do that again.”
Sage blushed, biting her lip. “I might like that.”
His grin widened. “I’m glad that’s something we can agree on.”
Reaching forward, he grabbed her hand. Her stomach jumped in excitement, and she threaded her fingers through his, giving his hand a small squeeze. She leaned into him, snuggling into his arms.
Nic pushed some of her hair from her face. A tingle chased the trail of his fingers.
“I’m glad I’m paired with you, Sage Indarra,” he murmured.
His breath tickled her forehead, making her heart pound a little faster. All the thoughts and worries she’d had about not being paired together at the end of the year seemed unimportant in that moment. They were together, and that wasn’t going to change just because she’d had some terrible things happen to her several years ago.
Blissfully content, she burrowed deeper against his chest.
“Me too,” she whispered.
10. TOURNAMENT
Half of Sage’s face was smashed against the floor. The stench of sweat flooded her senses so fast she nearly gagged, but she didn’t loosen her hold on her opponent’s arm. Her position was undeniably uncomfortable, to say the least, but she had the advantage and she wasn’t giving it up. He slapped the mat in desperation, urging her to release him. She ignored his wordless plea and rolled her eyes to the side, locking her gaze with their Coordinator, waiting for confirmation that she’d won her match.
The Coordinator nodded and motioned for her to get up. The boy beside Sage gasped in relief as soon as she let go. He scrambled away from her as quickly as he could, but she didn’t show any of the same eagerness to leave as she pushed herself up off the mat. The tournament was just getting started, and she needed to conserve her energy for the real challenge of the later rounds.
She’d already lost count of how many matches she’d finished, but she’d breezed through all of them, winning them with relative ease. In fact, she figured she only had one or two bruises so far and no broken skin, which was its own sort of victory during tournament rounds. If she could keep this up, she had a real chance of getting to the end.
She could hardly believe it was possible, but she was a real contender for becoming the overall champion this year. At least, that’s what some of her fellow Sixteens had told her when they’d warned her n
ot to screw up and make them lose their bets.
No pressure.
In fact, pretty much the entire level had something riding on today—almost like the bets were some sort of unspoken rite of passage before graduation. Even level-headed Marnie had gotten in on it—though she’d quickly admitted she was betting on Carnabel winning, informing Sage that it was nothing personal, that she was just following the best odds.
Nic had promised her that he wasn’t betting on anyone, but if he had to, it’d be on her. But given his role in the Kunbriat and the likelihood that he’d be one of the top contenders of the tournament, he didn’t think it was a good idea.
Sage’s jaw clenched a little tighter. She hoped she wouldn’t have to fight him. That’d be a match neither one of them could win.
Shaking her head, she put the thought out of her mind. She couldn’t afford to be distracted by additional stakes—they were plenty high as it was. This was her last opportunity to get a high tournament score to offset some of her worse years. Her last opportunity to influence how many Chances she’d be assigned in just a few months.
She scanned the mats, looking for potential opponents. None of the Fourteens or Fifteens were good enough to make the top twenty this year, so she only needed to worry about her fellow Sixteens.
By now, she was familiar with a lot of the better fighters’ styles, but it wasn’t unusual for students to secretly train to their weaknesses, pulling out some surprises for the tournament. And the only way to know if someone had been putting in secret training sessions was to watch what tricks they pulled out when they got cornered in the matches that counted—the ones taking place in front of her right now.
Her eyes fell on Carnabel, and she instinctively sucked in a breath as she watched her fight. It was brutal—not that she’d have expected anything less from her. Sage stared unblinking as Carnabel punched and kicked and dodged and rolled, switching seamlessly between offensive and defensive maneuvers. She’d nearly taken out her opponent several times, and it had reached a point that made Sage wonder if she was just toying with him for fun.
But something was wrong. The longer Sage watched, the more obvious it became. Carnabel was avoiding using her left arm. In fact, Sage wasn’t sure she’d used it at all during the entire fight, which was an impressive feat in itself. Had she hurt it somehow? She was definitely favoring it.
Sage’s brows knitted together in concentration as she continued observing the fight. She tried hard to stay removed, clinical, unbiased. If Carnabel had hurt her left arm, that was valuable knowledge. That information could be the tipping point in a fight between them—if they wound up facing off against one another.
She filed it away and pulled her focus back to the match taking place directly in front of her. It would be her turn again in a few moments. Strategizing for later would only help if she got through each match as a winner, and for that, she had to have her full attention on the present.
The Coordinator motioned toward her, and she stepped onto the mat, searching the line for her next opponent. She almost stumbled when he took a step forward and she realized who it was.
Cosmo’s bright green eyes met hers in a piercing gaze. Those eyes were just as heart-stopping as she remembered. She tried to steady her breathing. She’d spent most of the year avoiding him, hoping he wouldn’t distract her from bonding with Nic. Undoubtedly, that had been a good move. Just seeing him in front of her was stirring up feelings she thought she’d long since put to rest, and she wanted it to stop.
Sage swallowed and shifted her weight, wishing she didn’t have to fight him of all people. It was confusing enough just being around him, but this—she didn’t want to do it. At all.
But like every other time she’d stepped inside the circle before, she wasn’t being given a choice. She balled her hands into fists at her side in nervous anticipation.
She hadn’t counted on this, but she’d do what she needed to do. Like always.
The tone sounded, and Sage took a half-step backward, determined not to be the first one to advance. He looked at her and began moving forward slowly. She drew her fists to her temples, ready to block whatever he threw at her.
To her utter shock, instead of launching into an attack, he knelt, leaning forward, resting his forearms on his opposite knee. He didn’t move, just waited, tossing an expectant glance at their Coordinator.
Sage’s mouth dropped open in surprise. She’d never had anyone forfeit to her before. But that was exactly what he was doing.
“No,” she ground out as she covered the distance between them quickly. Her hand shot out and grabbed his bicep as she tried to drag him to his feet, hoping the Coordinator hadn’t been paying attention. “No. Fight.”
Cosmo was heavier than she’d expected. She grunted with exertion, but she couldn’t get him to budge more than an inch or so.
He shook his head, a sad, small smile on his face. “I can’t, Sage. I won’t fight you.”
“Fight,” she insisted again, anger creeping into her voice this time.
“I won’t hurt you.”
“Cos—fight.” Her lip quivered.
Cosmo didn’t say another word. He didn’t have the chance. The Coordinator had already stepped beside them and put a hand on each of their shoulders, nodding for them to head in opposite directions.
She’d just won the match by forfeit.
The loss would affect Cosmo more than normal, essentially counting against him twice. Or something like that—Sage wasn’t sure—she’d never actually seen someone forfeit before. Eprah didn’t particularly like it when people refused to play by its rules, and the consequences were always severe.
She groaned inwardly. So much for avoiding distractions.
Sage drifted in a fog as she faced one opponent after the next. Why wouldn’t Cosmo have fought her? Even if he’d thrown the fight, it would’ve been better for him than a straight up forfeiture. Was he really that afraid of hurting her? She wasn’t that fragile. Besides, she’d taken plenty of hits in class and the tournament, not to mention in a few unsanctioned extracurricular fights. He shouldn’t have forfeited.
It was messing with her more than it should’ve. She shouldn’t have let it. She should’ve forced herself to focus.
She tried.
It didn’t work.
Fortunately, her training was so deeply embedded that muscle memory kicked in while her mind wandered, allowing her to block and throw and strike and—surprisingly enough—win. Several times.
It seemed impossible, but the tournament was wrapping up, and she still hadn’t had a loss. Not that she could remember, at least. Maybe she’d blocked it out. It wasn’t exactly out of the realm of possibility at this point.
Nearly the entire student body was off in the wings, licking their wounds, waiting for the championship fight. Sage would join them soon, she was sure. Hopefully Nic or Penelope would save her a good spot. She wasn’t sure who the final two would be this year, but it was always a great fight to watch.
Blinking, Sage looked around and frowned. It wasn’t almost the entire student body. It was everyone. Except her and—
“Figures.” Carnabel stood at the opposite end of the mat with her arms crossed.
Sage’s eyes widened, and she winced at the unexpected pain the slight motion brought on. Bursts of lightning shot up and down the side of her head. She’d forgotten that she’d taken a blow to the face in an earlier fight. Right—just above her left eyebrow. Dumb mistake, and wow did it hurt right now.
“You should probably just bow out now.” Carnabel’s sneer was distorted through a swollen lip. “We already know I can win against you with my eyes closed.”
“If you think it’d help, go right ahead,” Sage shot back, flexing her fingers eagerly.
As much as she didn’t want to fight Carnabel, something about this seemed right—like they’d been working toward this moment for as long as they’d known each other. Besides, this was the only loophole she knew of for being
allowed to hurt another member of the Kunbriat.
A hush fell over the crowd as the two girls circled each other along the edge of the boundary, waiting for the match to officially begin.
Carnabel exploded off the mat the instant the tone sounded, rushing straight at Sage’s face. Sage ducked, realizing too late that she’d fallen for the ruse and opened herself up to the low attack.
Something cracked against Sage’s shins, and she felt herself falling forward through the burst of pain, rolling away just in time to avoid the heel that came crashing down right where her face would have been.
Now solidly on the defensive, Sage found herself dodging kicks and ducking blows without a spare second to think of her next move. If she didn’t do something fast, the fight would be over, and Carnabel would’ve beaten her. Again.
Frustration built inside her, urging her to do something—anything—to turn this fight around. She’d had just as much training as Carnabel, and she knew they were evenly matched. If she could just take a moment and gather her thoughts to figure out her next move, she could—
Her left arm!
The realization snapped at the corners of Sage’s mind, and before she could stop herself, she’d thrust her shoulder forward, driving her fist toward the arm Carnabel had been favoring all day.
She knew something was wrong when the corner of Carnabel’s mouth lifted slightly, but she didn’t have time to react. Carnabel’s arm shot out of the way impossibly fast, extending back and twisting into a strike to Sage’s throat.
The air burned as it left her lungs. In that moment, a sudden understanding slammed into her. Carnabel had been feigning an injury through the entire tournament for an opportunity just like this—a chance to pull out a hidden strength disguised as weakness.
She should’ve known. It was too late now. She’d underestimated her, and that was a mistake she probably wouldn’t get to correct now.
Sage pushed those thoughts aside as she clutched at her throat desperately, eyes wide as she started dropping to her knees. She never made it. Carnabel’s fingers wrapped around her throat and wrist, rapidly driving her the rest of the way to the ground. Her hips bucked up in an effort to ease the pressure shooting through her body.
