by Alex Lidell
“She rigged it, you know.” The girl’s words, mixing with the steamy air, seem to press on me from all directions. “Katita was out of sorts last night, so of course, Osprey pounced on it.”
“Why did Han even entertain that bit of rubbish after the lies she spread about Tyelor?” another girl answers.
“Maybe she offered him something. Down below.” The first girl’s voice drops. “I wager she is only on the team long enough for a certain cock to deflate.”
Hating my immortal ears, I rebraid my annoyingly thick hair as quickly as possible, finish buttoning my tunic, and slip quickly from the bathhouse into the muggy outside air for the too short walk to the dining hall—where I can look forward to the company of my new teammates surrounding me once more. Less than half a day on the Prowess team and I’m already homesick for Arisha’s company and Coal’s morning brutality.
The tall stone buildings on every side of the courtyard seem to press in tighter now, invisible eyes peering out of every window, waiting for me to fail.
“Lady Lera of Osprey.” Rik’s low, self-satisfied voice catches me in the back, making me flinch. When he and Puckler catch up to me in the shadow of the arena’s towering wall, our identical uniforms turn my stomach. “You will, of course, do us the honor of allowing us to escort you to the dining hall?”
Given that my last meaningful interaction with Katita’s royal cousins involved a brawl in the stable where one of them tried to stick a horse bit into my mouth, I don’t even bother feigning friendliness and quicken my pace. I might have to share a table with the bastards, but I don’t have to breathe the same air as them a moment longer than that. “Difficult as the feat may appear, I can manage to find the mess hall on my own. So be good little lapdogs, and run along to Katita.”
“Is that any way to talk to your new teammates, for however short a time?” On my right, Puckler moves so close that his arm presses into mine while his twin mirrors the motion on the other side. Their heavy bodies, rather than leaning down through training, have only gained more mass—they’ll be the Prowess team’s best weapons in the wrestling and strength categories. Puckler’s voice drops. “We are under orders from Han to make sure you’re seen appearing at the dining hall in team company. Personally, I’d rather be wiping my boots with your blood, but I’m not about to cross Han for the pleasure. At least not until we have your arse flying so far through the air from Prowess, you’ll need a map just to find the ground again.”
My jaw tightens. As much as I want to tell the pair off again, keeping close to the royals was the whole point of joining the team, so I can hardly complain about Han doing half my work for me. Forcing a smile—which I hope will irritate the hell out of the cousins—I offer the pair a mocking bow. “Then I will savor the honor of your company for as long as I’m worthy.”
The brothers exchange too-knowing glances. “Fortunately for everyone, I’d not worry about having to savor the honor for too long, Lady Lera.”
I stop, forcing the pair to stop with me, and twist to grab the front of Puckler’s tunic. “What exactly are you talking about?”
Puckler pulls his lapel free of my grip, dusting off the invisible dirt I supposedly left behind. He quirks one dark brow, the curved scar at its corner seeming to smile with the movement. “I know better than to use the privilege of my position and run my mouth with the Academy’s official news before it’s been announced. You’ll be told soon enough.”
My stomach clenches, and I turn back to the cobblestone path quickly, hoping the pair might not notice the renewed tension gripping my neck. The last time Sage had official news, it was to bring the Prowess Trials down atop our heads. A small voice in the back of my head tries to tell me that the pair are full of horseshit, as they always are, but the sight of Sage—who tends to take meals in the privacy of his own suite—seated comfortably in the dining hall makes that thought disappear.
Of course, the only empty chair at the team’s table is next to Tye, who pushes it away from him with his foot just as I approach. His fresh pine-and-citrus scent washes over me, bringing stinging dread now instead of pleasure. My body still recognizes its mate in that scent, still wants to react with every nerve firing, but I have to start protecting myself.
On the other side of the table, Katita smiles at me like a cat with a bowl of cream. At least she and Tye are not sitting together. Even with this cavernous distance between Tye and me, the hard wall in his eyes, I can’t shake the dull pain that washes over me whenever I see them together—which seems to be all the time these days.
Ignoring the princess, I move my chair back into place and frown at the food, which is already on the table. Unlike the rest of the cadets, who choose meats and breads and cheeses from the offerings along the dining room wall, the Prowess table’s fine red tablecloth is covered with unappetizing slabs of bland chicken and bowls of steamed, saltless peas. Reaching for the metal pitcher to pour myself a drink, I find water in place of the freshly squeezed juices I know the others are sipping now.
Feeling Tye’s malice-laced amusement, I serve myself from the platters. If he can eat this, so can I. I certainly ate worse during my servitude to Zake, even if my new immortal senses remind me just how much the food resembles performance feed assembled for prized show animals. I’m about to consume my first forkful of near-mashed peas when Headmaster Sage taps a fork against his glass for attention. His bald head shines under the chandeliers, his hooked nose casting a deep shadow over his face.
“My lords and ladies, good day,” he says in his usual nasally voice. “With our esteemed royal guests and athletes arriving within days to watch the Academy’s first hosted Prowess event, I remind you that this is our greatest chance to show all the continent our athletic abilities, but also our academic prowess. In deference to these unusual circumstances, I will allow any student who feels too nervous to attempt the final exams before such an audience to self-select themselves out of the Academy now and re-enroll to repeat this year in the fall. Any student who attempts the final oral exams and fails, however, will be expelled immediately and without recourse. Please consider which course of action is right for you as you finish the meal.”
As Sage sits, a sharp murmur of conversation rises around the dining hall at once—though none from those at my table, who don’t seem surprised. I stare at the contents of my fork, which still hovers awkwardly in the air. So this is what Katita was so self-satisfied about. Whether I fail the exams or self-select myself out, the effect will be the same by the start of the Prowess Trials—I will no longer be on the Academy’s team.
As brilliant as Katita’s plan is, it is not her I’m worried about. It’s River. He watches me at the Prowess table with such a lack of emotion in his gray eyes that whatever appetite I managed to summon fails at once.
Watching him walk stiffly out of the dining hall’s side door, I swallow my food as quickly and silently as basic decorum permits, and, with a murmur about needing to get a book, excuse myself into the keep’s long stone corridor. Afternoon light slants in through high slit windows, a stern reminder of the Academy’s former life as a military fortress. Instead of turning toward the library at the far end of the walkway, I turn toward the large male making a study of one of the paintings hanging on the wall. His dark brown hair, usually so neat, is mussed on one side, evidence of stressed fingers combing through it. His body is straight and regal, but exhaustion rides in the shadows under his eyes—and something more, something so rare in that perfect face that it makes my insides cramp. Fear.
Coming up beside the deputy headmaster, I place my hands behind my back and hope that the words that have eluded me since Sage’s announcement will miraculously spark to mind now. They don’t.
Which means I don’t know how to explain to River why I’m seemingly throwing out the months of time and effort he’s invested in me. And not just that—months of himself. I know he’s shared pieces of himself with me in that study that he never has with anyone else, save his imagin
ary wife.
I wasn’t thinking about River when I made this decision, and there’s no way to pretend I was.
“When were you going to tell me about the Trials?” River’s rich voice brushes against my skin, the careful tightness in it making the hurt obvious. At least to me. This close to his broad back, his heat and intoxicating scent wash over me, and it’s all I can do not to close the distance.
I swallow. “Sometime after I knew that I had made the team.”
“I see.” He rocks back on his heels, his gaze still on the portrait of Ckridel’s King Zenith. As if he needs to find a place to look that isn’t me. “And what do you intend to do now, in light of the headmaster’s new rules?”
“The same as I was going to do before—take the exams and pass.”
“So you are rejecting Sage’s offer to repeat the year.” It isn’t a question. River runs a hand through his hair, making it stand up even more. “Why? It is an option better than either of us could have hoped for. No exams. A guaranteed return to the Academy. You’ve made great strides, but the extra time to work with the material will only help.”
“And you want me to spend the summer away from the Academy.”
River finally swivels to me with thunder in his eyes, his chiseled jaw as hard and stubborn as the rest of his rock-hard body. His face seems to sing with command, from his high cheekbones to the shadowed planes of his cheeks, and I’m reminded for the thousandth time how foolish it is to cross this immortal king. “You can bloody bet on it. There is danger here no matter what I do, and I’m not going to pretend to sound apologetic about ensuring your safety.”
For a moment, I can’t speak, his power seeming to fill the corridor, the Academy, the world, taking all the air with it. My hope diminishes with each breath—hope that maybe telling River the truth of why I need to stay might actually sway him. The last thing the male wants to hear is that I’m inserting myself into the greatest fire I can find—and I’ve too many other wars to deal with to fight River on this too. My chin rises. “I’m not running away—from the Academy, from exams, from whatever will or will not happen here. That much is in my power to decide, and I have.”
River says nothing, turning back to the painting as if that might keep the hurt in his eyes from showing. It doesn’t. His stiff back rises above me once more, a wall of intricate muscle outlined under his white silk shirt. I long to put a hand there, to run my finger down his spine as I might have done in the old days—when I was allowed to. “I was under the impression what you and I did for the past months was important,” he says finally.
“It was important. It is important.” My heart aches, my mind finally seeing what I must do. A way to keep my decision from appearing like a betrayal of all our time together. Glancing around the empty corridor, I dare to touch the male’s hard forearm, the muscles beneath the silk so coiled that I feel his tension seep through the connection. “What you’ve done for me in the past months, the lessons and the patience and the learning—it’s meant the world. You are the first who’s ever cared enough, who I could trust to protect my dignity as well as my mind. I’m grateful. Eternally. I need you to know that.” My grip on his arm tightens. “There is less than a week left until exams, and we’ve always assumed I would be taking them. I trust what we’ve been doing together, River. You should too.”
The silence settling at the heels of my words is deafening. One heartbeat passes. Two. Then River pulls his forearm from my grip.
“Indeed, Lady Leralynn.” With a formal bow, the deputy headmaster walks away, his footsteps echoing down the long stone corridor.
7
Lera
To my surprise, a full third of Great Falls’ cadets take Sage’s offer to repeat the year over, nearly all of them belonging to the smaller noble families who little worry that the withdrawal will reflect poorly on their kingdom. All the royal-blooded cadets stay, some more nervous than others. By the time I walk into Master Briar mathematics classroom the following afternoon, the Academy already feels pruned.
For a moment, I’m jealous of all those students headed home to their cozy castles in their fine horse-drawn carriages. With only three days until the start of the Prowess Trials—and oral exams—the tension within these walls has never been higher.
“Find your seats quickly, please,” Briar calls from the front of what was a musty classroom until someone’s inspiration exploded over it last night. The neat rows of writing desks are gone, replaced with wooden benches placed in a semicircle around a raised dais, a large slate propped on top of it like a crown jewel. The room’s heavy drapes are pulled back strategically to ensure that the afternoon light falls on the center of the space while keeping the bench area in shadow. As with the rest of the Academy, flags representing all of the ten kingdoms stand along the back wall, adding splotches of mismatched color to an otherwise heavy wood-paneled room. A mini arena without the sand and athletics equipment.
Without the usual writing desk to hide behind, I make a bid for the last row of benches and sit behind the widest back I can find—which just so happens to be Tye’s. Putting my books on the bench next to me to save a spot for Arisha, I take a deep breath, preparing myself for an hour of my hardest subject. But instead of slowing, my heart stops altogether. The low hum of conversation and perfume-saturated air nearly makes me miss a familiar woodsy scent.
River.
Nodding in answer to Briar’s bow, the male puts his arms behind his back and stands off to the side as unobtrusively as a warrior of his size can manage. Despite surely having felt my gaze on him, the male gives no sign of having seen me in the crowd. Fine.
Arisha slides somewhat breathlessly into the seat I saved, and for the first time ever, I take in her drab gray uniform with envy. Anything would be better than this stiff costume. “Shouldn’t you be sitting up front with…them?” she whispers, looking meaningfully at my Prowess uniform.
I curse, realizing both my mistake and the empty seat left for me right in the center of the Prowess team bench. Around us, several other people have plainly come to the same conclusion and now watch me with a mixture of interest and amusement. I bite my lip. Move or stay? Move or stay? Seeing more and more eyes glance my way, I carefully rise from my seat—to suddenly find myself the only one standing besides Master Briar and River himself.
I sit down quickly. Brilliant.
“If you are done with selecting seats, Lady Leralynn, might I start class?” Briar asks, adding to the heat already flooding my cheeks. When his gaze finally releases me, I slump in relief—which quickly fades with his next words. “Today, we will hold mock examinations to familiarize everyone with this year’s…modified exam procedures. On exam day, you will enter the arena, whose setup this room now mirrors. When your name is called, you will approach the instructor at the side table, choose one of the facedown tickets, and hand it to him. The question on the ticket, which may be from any subject of study, is the one you will be answering for the exam.”
“One question. One answer. No makeups.” River’s voice carries easily as he walks forward, drawing utter silence like a cloak behind him. In his fine wool jacket and fitted pants tucked into polished black boots, he looks every inch a commander. His eyes pass over me flatly as if I’m just another student—and maybe after yesterday, I am. By the time he stops beside Briar, the only remaining sounds are the benches’ occasional protesting creaks.
Briar, who blanched as much as the rest of us at River’s approach, clears his throat. “Fortunately for today, I have it on good authority that all the questions concern mathematics.” Some of the students titter nervously, but my throat is too dry to acknowledge his poor attempt at humor. These ridiculous exams are nothing more than an exhibition for the sake of a powerful audience—designed for maximum drama and minimum boredom.
Taking out a stack of tickets, the professor lays them out on a small side table beside him. “All right, then. A volunteer, please.”
Beside me, Arisha sits taller�
��looking a bit like Shade’s wolf spotting steak left too close to a table’s edge.
Briar smiles at her. “Lady—”
“Lady Leralynn,” River says, interrupting Briar midsentence, eyes as implacable as brushed steel. “You appear to have been planning on changing seats when I came in. You may as well come all the way up here.”
No. No No NO.
For a second, I’m certain that I’ve imagined River’s words, that he would not purposely do this to me. But then the reality of the silence and watching eyes seeps through, my limbs lead-heavy as I get to my feet. Bastard. My heart, which had stopped beating for a moment, now leaps into a gallop. River is a bloody bastard.
Walking onto the dais as if ascending the executioner’s block, I reach for one of the identical slips of parchment lying facedown on a small table. Heart stuttering, I pull out the one farthest from me and feel what little air is left in my chest leave it altogether as I hand it to Briar to read aloud.
Provided the measurements below, calculate the farthest acceptable point to place a catapult outside the castle wall to ensure the load clears it.
I can barely hear the master over my pounding heart, forgetting the numbers the moment he reads them. When Briar hands me the slip of paper, I stare at it with gut-sinking dread, willing for the words to rearrange themselves into something different. They don’t. Nor does the formula that I know exists condescend to make an appearance in my mind. River and I have worked out problems similar to this in the past, but stars take me if I remember where to even start.
Benches creak as the cadets shift in their seats, the air in the room turning from heavy with tension to full of confusion and curiosity. Apparently, I’m supposed to be doing something now. Writing. Calculating.
