Maddox patted me on the back. “See you in a few hours. Hopefully in one piece.”
Rolling my eyes at her comment, I turned back to the door and swallowed my nerves as I watched the gate guard check people out. It was standard procedure for any planned maneuver—the gate guard had a list of names and if you weren’t on it, you didn’t get outside the wall. I’d heard a young redheaded Barron explaining the whole thing to his new Healer in the dining hall, so seeing the process wasn’t a surprise. It did, however, make me see the amount of control that Headmaster Quill had over the comings and goings of his student body.
Before I knew it, it was our turn, and Trayton was leading me up to the guard—the same guard who had given me access inside the gate the night I’d arrived here. His mouth was pursed as he looked over the list, but as he came to my name, the purse turned into a smile. “Kaya? I remember you. Taken on any Graplars lately?”
Chuckling, I shook my head. “Not since that night, and I’m hoping not to see any tonight either.”
He scribbled something illegible beside my name and said, “I wouldn’t worry about it too much. Things have been pretty quiet lately. Just stick with your Barron and you’ll be fine.”
Trayton cleared his throat, as if mistaking our friendly banter for flirtation, and wanting to make certain the guard had noticed him. “She certainly will.”
The guard looked up at him and then back at the list. “Trayton? I didn’t realize you’d been Bound yet. Congratulations.”
A strange electricity was in the air, a sensation that hinted at jealousy—not for me; the guard wasn’t even attracted to me, nor I to him. But something in his words hinted that he’d been waiting for a Healer for a long time. It had to be difficult being without a Healer and then seeing someone from a privileged family get their name moved up the list. I was tempted to explain that doing so hadn’t been Trayton’s idea at all, but his father’s, but I kept my mouth shut. It was none of my business, and would likely only cause further tension to say anything. Trayton smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes—maybe because he knew that the congratulations were a bit of a dig at his privileged life. “Thanks. I’m very lucky.”
The guard scribbled something beside Trayton’s name then and the purse returned to his lips. Under his breath, he muttered, “I’m sure you are.”
Trayton grimaced, but said nothing. The metal of the door scraped opened and I stepped through it, Trayton right beside me. As we passed through, my lungs filled with air that felt fresher than that of the academy. It had to be all in my head, but the ground seemed softer, the trees greener, the world around us more real. Maybe it was because I hadn’t been outside of that wall in days, and being locked away somewhere can really fak with your perception of a place, but everything seemed better outside of the walls of Shadow Academy. Especially when I forced my mind to forget the fact that there was now nothing standing between the Graplars and myself but their appetite.
The door slammed shut behind us and an ominous, metallic tone rang out into the forest. There was no going back. Not until we’d searched the immediate area for any sign of Graplars or King Darrek’s soldiers. It was just us out here, and the katanas carried on the Barrons’ backs.
The group had formed a semicircle just yards from the gate, and all eyes were on Darius as Trayton and I approached. Darius’s hair fluttered slightly in the breeze. “We’re going to divide into three teams. The first and largest will take the eastern path along the wall, checking for any weaknesses in the structure and usual signs of intruders. The second will take the western path, covering the area from the south gate to the north gate. The third and smallest group will drop farther down the hill to do some tracking. The young Graplar’s mother can’t be far off, and it’s that group’s job to find her.”
Slowly, I inhaled through my nose and blew it out, trying to relax the growing tension in my muscles. I would have given anything at that moment not to be counted in that third group, and was hoping like hell I was just being paranoid. But the truth was, I could feel it coming. As Darius started barking orders, I sucked in my breath and held it.
“Marcus, Greg, Amy, Nancy, Hannibal, Rick, Sara, Allen, and Tyrone—you’re on the first team. Get going, and keep your wits about you. We don’t know how that young Graplar got there or why it was left behind, but it’s possible the parents are going to come looking for it right where we found it.”
A slow sigh escaped me. Maybe I’d been wrong about that third group. Maybe that was precisely where I wanted to be.
“Thomas, Patrick, Sharon, Brian, Melanie, Zane, you’re the second group. Pay special attention to the area nearest the north gate. As you know, Graplars have recently been attacking that gate, and I don’t want anyone getting injured in a moment of forgetfulness. Just because you’re near Shadow Academy doesn’t mean you’re safe inside of it. Be careful.”
Now I knew that being in the third group was probably the safest place I could be. The tension left me, and I waited for him to say Trayton’s name.
“Trayton, Luke…you’re with me.”
As Darius turned away, ready to lead us down the hill, Trayton said something under his breath that sent my heart into my throat. He said, “I love the risky patrols.”
Tugging feverishly on his sleeve, I whispered harshly, “Risky? Why is this risky?”
Darius glanced over his shoulder at Trayton, but he shook his head, as if to say that there would be no more outbursts from his Healer. I furrowed my brow, that silly fear of being eaten alive filling me once again, and followed them down the hill.
As we descended, the temperature quickly dropped, which struck me as odd. Normally, climbing down in elevation made the air warmer, not cooler. But with each step I took, more gooseflesh spread over my arms. Several hundred yards down the steep hill, Darius paused and tilted his head, listening. Trayton tapped me on the arm and when I looked at him, he pointed to my feet. His message was clear: Stay here. Don’t move.
I nodded once, wondering what Darius had heard that had stopped him from his descent, but I knew better than to ask, or to say anything at all without being prompted. This was a quiet pursuit, and the last thing I wanted to do was to attract the attention of any Graplars who happened to be lurking nearby—particularly any Graplar parents who’d recently lost their young.
Trayton moved soundlessly to Darius’s side and the two stood there for a moment, an unspoken conversation passing between them. I tried to meet Luke’s Healer’s eyes, to see if she was as scared as I was that we might encounter a Graplar, but she was too focused on Luke to take notice of anyone but him. Maybe that’s how Healers were supposed to be—blind to their own fears, concentrating only on the well-being of their Barron. If that was the case, I felt sorry for Trayton. Because I was probably the worst Healer in the history of Tril.
After a few minutes, Darius’s shoulders relaxed some, and he nodded to Trayton, who moved silently forward, raising his hand and stretching it ever so closely toward the handle of his katana. As his fingers curled around the handle, my lungs snapped closed to the air outside. They’d heard something, or seen something, and we were about to engage one of those horrible monsters that had attacked Kessler. My heart was racing and I flicked my gaze all around us, trying to get even a glimpse of what was to come. Instinctively, I lifted my left foot and took a step back, just one step, just trying to get a little distance between me and the unseen Graplar. When I brought my foot down, a distinct, hard snap echoed into the air. In the time it took me to gasp, Trayton and Luke had unsheathed their katanas and moved to surround Luke’s Healer and me, their backs to us in a protective stance. Only Darius remained where he was, but it didn’t take him more than a few seconds more to turn his eyes on me in a glare. “What part of ‘don’t move’ do you not understand?”
I opened my mouth to answer, but no answer came.
Luke returned his katana to its saya, looking irritated. Trayton slowly raised his blade and sheathed it, a look of d
isappointment on his face. I wasn’t sure whether he was disappointed in me for having broken a twig under my foot in a moment of panic, or disappointed that we weren’t being attacked by some unseen foe. Darius sighed and gestured up the hill with his chin. “Take her back to the academy, Trayton. Luke and I have got this.”
Looking from Darius to Trayton, I said, “I don’t need to go back. I can do this.”
Trayton replied as if he hadn’t even heard me—something that sent an angry chill up my spine. “Are you sure?”
Darius shrugged. “We haven’t seen any fresh tracks, so I’m fairly certain the cub just wandered in from the east. Besides, if we need you, we know where to find you.”
The corners of Trayton’s mouth came down in a frown as his disappointment deepened. He certainly didn’t want to head back to the school and potentially miss out on any Graplar-fighting action. I didn’t want to go back either—not because Darius was sending me back—but it didn’t look like there was room to argue. Trayton forced a smile at me. “Well. Let’s call it an early night then.”
He was trying to be pleasant. He was trying to be nice. He was acting as if I hadn’t just completely ruined his good time. But I could see through the facade. The walk back to the south gate was a long and quiet one. I almost apologized several times along the way, but I couldn’t shake the truth of it from my drooping shoulders and weary mind. It wasn’t my fault that Trayton had been sent home early, like some misbehaving child. Darius had done this, and no one else.
As we approached the south gate, I dared to speak, hoping I wouldn’t add to the tension in the air. “So it seems pretty clear that Darius despises me.”
Trayton slowed his steps, glancing at me, but didn’t negate what I’d said. “Don’t say that. Darius is just…”
“A total dek?”
Laughter bubbled out of him, breaking the tension between us. “Don’t say that either.”
I slowed to a stop, tugging his sleeve until he’d stopped walking too. “So what is it?”
Trayton stretched out his arm and brushed a stray hair from my eyes with his fingertips. It was such a simple motion, such a common gesture, but it made my heart skip a beat. “It’s just that Darius is extremely particular whom he trusts on patrol and whom he doesn’t. He doesn’t trust you yet because he doesn’t know you. That’s all. I swear he doesn’t hate you. And he’s not a total dek.”
He moved up the hill then, waiting patiently as I caught up to him. My head was full of a single thought—one that kept my mouth shut. All I could think about was the fact that Trayton was wrong about Darius. He was wrong on both counts.
C H A P T E R
Ten
There are two sets of Protocol, which must be blended in order to act as the glue that holds our society together.”
I folded my arms in front of me in an effort to warm my skin from the strange chill that was in the air. After a moment, I realized that the chill wasn’t coming from the air. It was coming from Mr. Groff, my Protocol teacher.
“The first set, often referred to as common Protocol, are the rules given to you by those who raised you—generally, your parents. These rules encompass what is and isn’t acceptable in a social environment, and the intricacies of engagement between those who are Skilled and those who are Unskilled. They govern what is expected of a Barron and Healer in order to maintain the balance and order to which Trillians have become accustomed. These well-established and time-honored rules have made it easier for people to live and work together. The second set of Protocol consists of how we run our military forces and the way those forces interact with one another. Just as an Unskilled person is, for lack of a better turn of phrase, subservient to a Skilled person, a Healer is in a subservient position to a Barron. And with any position—both the supportive and the high-ranking—come certain rules, certain Protocol, that must be followed to keep order and maintain a happy and prosperous society.”
He scanned the classroom slowly, his intense gaze scrutinizing each of his students. By the time his eyes met mine, I could feel the prickle of gooseflesh breaking out over my arms. Something about him made the tiny hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. This man loved Protocol. This man lived to support the very cause that my parents had run away from. I could smell it on him, coming off in metallic-tasting waves that sent my stomach roiling. He seemed to pause in his scrutiny, lingering on me momentarily, before plucking a small, red leather book from his desk and holding it up for everyone to see. When his eyes left mine, I released a quiet sigh of relief. “Protocol, ladies and gentleman, is precisely what you have come here to learn. Please turn to page fifty-eight of the class handbook.”
The last thing I wanted to do was follow this man’s instructions on anything, but I dutifully reached inside my satchel and withdrew the small book, thumbing my way carefully through it until I saw the number fifty-eight in bold, black print on the lower right corner of the page. I folded the cover back, opening the book, and read the chapter title, which screamed at me from the sinewy parchment. PROTOCOL.
“I’ll give you all a moment to read the first paragraph before we proceed. You should note that—” The door opened and Mr. Groff’s head snapped up with an intolerant glare, his words falling to the floor, forgotten.
As Trayton entered the classroom, several first-year students—both Healers and Barrons, much to my surprise, as most classes were just for Barrons or just for Healers—whispered to one another through cupped hands. A few, mostly female, blushed in awe. I merely sat in shock, as I had no idea why Trayton would be interrupting a Protocol class. It seemed a bit ironic to me that a rule-following Barron would break Protocol in a Protocol class, but maybe I was just looking for something to think about that would take me away from that bold word on the page. Trayton passed so closely to my table that I could have reached out and touched him, but I didn’t dare move a finger. With a nod, he held a slip of parchment out for Mr. Groff. “My apologies for the interruption, Mr. Groff, but I was only just transferred to this class, on the recommendation of Headmaster Quill. He said you’d understand once you read his note.”
Mr. Groff snatched the note from his hand with an impatient tug, but as his eyes moved over the words written on it, his mood softened. “Take your seat next to Kaya, Trayton, and turn to page fifty-eight. We are reviewing common Protocol.”
Trayton turned, without looking at me for even a second, and walked around my chair, taking his seat to my left. He pulled a red book from his satchel and opened it to the correct page. I turned my head slightly, eyeing him with interest. What was he doing here? Surely Trayton had already taken a course in Protocol. He was taking advanced courses. There was no way he belonged in a first-year class.
The corner of his mouth lifted in a small, knowing smile and he met my eyes, his voice a soft whisper. “What?”
Shaking my head, I resisted a smile and turned my attention back to that bold word on the page. Beneath it was a paragraph about duty, and about what duties we had, as Skilled people, to protect the Unskilled from things that they were better off not knowing. Thinking back to my days in Kessler, to the villagers I knew and loved, I couldn’t imagine any of them as ill-equipped to deal with the reality of war and Graplars and Skilled traits the way that the book described. The author or authors—no one took credit on the cover or beginning pages of the tome—had clearly never spent any extended time around the Unskilled, or else they might have known that the Unskilled were a lot more similar to the Skilled than they were comfortable admitting. A bit more relaxed, maybe. And more focused on tilling the soil and creating items for everyday use than fighting and maintaining the ridiculous decorum known as Protocol.
Tearing my thoughts away from Kessler, I stole another glance at Trayton before turning my attention to Mr. Groff at the front of the class. He stood with his legs slightly apart, his spine tall and stiff, his hands clasped behind his back. Even though his demeanor seemed calm, I got the impression that he was not a Barron who h
ad taken lightly to retirement and a teaching position. I got the feeling, in fact, that he went out kicking and screaming, biting and clawing, doing whatever he could to remain in the war. It frightened me to know that someone could be that way, could be so blind to a cause and so in love with the rules imposed on them. Even my parents, who had been ever loyal to the cause until the day they’d agreed to elope, would have feared this man. Loyalty to anything in such an absolute manner was dangerous. He was dangerous, and I couldn’t wait to get out of his stuffy, oppressive classroom and breathe in the clean air. “As I was saying, you should note that the first paragraph best sums up what we have come to understand as the societal need for Protocol.”
Scanning the page, I found words that filled my heart with dread. Things like duty and honor, and not once did I see anything at all about freedom. I went back and read the paragraph he’d instructed us to read, but doing so just made my head ache. This was going to be a long class—a long school year, a long life—and nothing I could say or do would remove me permanently from Mr. Groff’s Protocol class. Except for graduation, that is.
But at least Trayton was there to keep me company.
Once class had blissfully come to an end, Trayton slowly walked with me to the door, both of us relishing in this semi-alone moment. “What are you doing here?”
“What? In a class I took last year?” His grin was infectious. “Headmaster Quill thought it might do me a bit of good to freshen my memory on the subject matter. He also thought it might help you.”
Leave it to Headmaster Quill to know what would be good for me. My mood deflated some, but I pushed the dark cloud away. Nothing was going to ruin this stolen, all-too-rare time alone. “Well, whatever the reason, I’m glad you’re here. What did you think of the subject matter the second time around?”
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