by R. H. Scott
He glanced down at her, drawing a slow breath.
Does he already know about their intended fight? Does he know why they have it in for each other?
“You need to let them figure this one out for themselves, Radcliffe, whether you like it or not. I am sorry you’re caught up in the middle of it, though.”
So, he does know. Sloan quickly leaped back as a girl was flipped onto the ground before her. “Sir, maybe you could change his mind?”
“I would never ask one of my own to shy away from a fight,” he began, looking at her with his warm grey eyes. “But even if I did, neither of those boys will back out of this one.”
She studied his familiar face. He knew more than he was letting on. “If you knew why they were doing this, would you tell me?”
He huffed, turning from her. “Just get to your training, Lieutenant.”
Sloan hated knowing something was being kept from her. She nodded slowly, knowing he had no more to say to her, and carried on down the field. She thought about her trust in Jared. She could trust him with her life, but was aware that full disclosure—perfect honesty—was not something she could always expect. The moment in the pod had reaffirmed that knowledge. The summer before last, after Carson, was when Sloan had noticed Jared’s change. He had taken her hiking in the woods; they had scaled a rock cliff that hung treacherously over the lake. Despite her reservations he had convinced her to jump, and only once she had did he choose to tell her that students had previously died attempting the same leap.
“Why would you have me risk it then?”
He had held her tightly, keeping her near him on the shore. “Because whatever the circumstances are, you’re safe when you’re with me.”
She had pulled away from him. “You could have told me before I jumped.”
But all he had done was smile at her knowingly. “You wouldn’t have done it if you knew the risks.”
She had shaken her head at him. “I’m safer when I know the truth.”
He had let his smile fade, pulling her closer. “That’s the whole point—when you’re with me, you’re safe regardless of what you know.”
From that day on Sloan was keenly aware that she might never know the dangers involved when Jared asked for her trust.
As Sloan approached Major West’s training session, she noticed a large circle of students had formed. She pushed her way in and saw a girl viciously attacking a bare-chested young man. The girl swung at him, a training blade tightly clenched in her fist. Sloan watched him deflect and couldn’t help but think how similar his body was to Jared’s. His abs contracted as he twisted his broad chest, sweat matted with grass over his taut shoulders. She followed the deep line of his spine up to his dark locks of hair, watching him spiral around . . .
It was Elijah Daniels.
Sloan felt embarrassment warm over her and immediately concentrated on his female opponent. The girl moved well, her fiery red hair flying around her wildly. She wasn’t bad—definitely skilled—but Sloan couldn’t help notice that she was short, which meant short arms and legs, which meant she had to risk getting physically nearer her opponent if she wanted to do any damage. In this spar it wasn’t as big a deal because they both fought with holographic training blades so the only real injury risked would be bruising from the hilt—which, Sloan knew, was a very real possibility.
As the girl made forceful jabs towards Elijah, Sloan saw his moment to pin her and end the fight. When he aimlessly sidestepped instead, though, Sloan realized he was taking it easy. She glanced past them, spotting Major West. He clapped, calling the spar to an end. Elijah and the girl stopped their fight and Sloan watched as the girl hugged him affectionately.
Is she his betrothed?
West entered the circle, smiling. “If you two expect to do well in Fight Night then you need to up your game—Elijah, you passed on a moment to end the spar and, Maya, a different opponent would have used your error to their advantage.”
“Yes, sir,” the two answered in unison.
Sloan was sick of hearing about Fight Night. This girl who now clung to Elijah’s side would be vying for Sloan’s champion title?
“These two will be fighting the reigning champions?” Sloan asked, stepping into the circle. She felt like grandstanding, defensive of her championship, defensive of her relationship, angry about Fight Night and whatever Elijah Daniels was planning.
West approached her, a warm smile crossing his face. “Haven’t seen you here for a few weeks, Lieutenant Radcliffe. You’ve been missed in the ring. You could be of some real assistance to the other seniors.” These sorts of compliments were common for students like her and Jared, but it didn’t stop her from standing a bit taller upon hearing them. Jared was the best and received constant worship from everyone for it; she was the best and her peers hated her for it . . . She relished commendation from her mentors.
I am what they made me to be—I earned this.
“Thank you. I’ve been concentrating on hand-to-hand for a while, but I’m happy to be back.”
He nodded. “How’s Dawson?”
“He’s good. He says hi, and that he’s coming by later.” She offered him a small smile, and a thought crossed her mind. Could West talk Jared out of Fight Night?
“Sloan, meet Second Lieutenant Maya Woods and Captain Elijah Daniels,” he introduced, gesturing to the girl standing beside Elijah. Sloan took a step towards them, regarding Maya’s small frame and uncertain expression. She would know Sloan by reputation—the champion whose title she was competing for.
Sloan narrowed in on the girl. “So you’re the senior girl coming up against me in Fight Night?”
Sloan hadn’t intended to self-nominate in this quarter’s fight . . . but something about the uneasy expression on Elijah’s face, the look of fear in his eyes, made her do it. He seemed to care about this girl—he knew she was no match for Sloan.
West glanced down at her. “I didn’t know you were self-nominating, Radcliffe.”
Sloan shrugged. “I would have to beat the winner regardless to maintain my title; might as well skip the waiting.”
Sloan looked from Elijah to Maya. “How long have you two been training together?”
Maya crossed her arms over her chest. “Six weeks.” She answered with such a sense of pride that Sloan nearly laughed. Six weeks of training and you think you can take me?
Sloan shook her head, containing a smile, and pulled her shirt off, revealing her training garments. They were all standard issue; she wore the same black sports bra and cargo pants as Maya. The material was made of bound synthetic fibers, forming a body armor that couldn’t be torn, burnt or slashed.
The surrounding students regarded Sloan with excitement, a flurry of whispers, realizing she was about to spar.
She stretched her arms out, limbering up. “Well, after six whole weeks, you should be ready to give me a go.”
West took a step between them. “Give it a rest, Radcliffe. Maya just finished sparring.”
But Maya stepped forward angrily, a determined look in her eye. “No, I can take her.”
Sloan shrugged to West; if Maya was willing to fight, then Sloan was happy to give her a preview of how Fight Night would go. Sloan had a way of mentally categorizing students in the Academy—those who knew she had earned her mantle of champion and those who thought her reputation was an extension of Jared’s success. Maya obviously fell in the latter . . . Well, that’s about to change.
Sloan remembered watching Jared in his first senior Fight Night; he had easily dominated the spar, and then, for good measure, he had ensured his opponent ended up in the Infirmary. Sloan had asked him why he had taken it so far. “Make an example of one to teach all the others a lesson about challenging us.”
Example time.
West shook his head at Maya. “Woods, you aren�
�t ready to take Sloan. She is your senior champion—you need more training.”
“I said I could do it. Let me fight her,” Maya growled, her fists tensing at her sides. It almost amused Sloan, the way this girl assumed her own abilities rivaled Sloan’s.
West nodded slowly—he knew how this would go, but there was no convincing Maya otherwise. “Fine. Daniels, step out.”
Elijah slowly moved to the fringe of the circle, waiting on the periphery. Close enough to rescue your girl if you need to, Sloan thought, shaking her head at him.
West tossed her a training blade and cued the girls to take position. It didn’t surprise Sloan that he threw her only one knife despite Maya having two—she didn’t need two to win this fight.
Sloan took her stance: knife in her left hand, horizontal in front of her torso; right hand remaining open, but tense, by her face. Maya took position: arms crossing over her torso to create an X in front of her chest, knives in both hands.
West circled the girls slowly. Sloan took a deep breath . . . this was her in her element. The wind ran a cool calm over her body; she rolled her shoulders back and closed her eyes, allowing her instincts to take over.
“Fight!” West’s voice was a starting pistol.
Sloan opened her eyes, immediately tucking the blade into her waistband, bringing her arms up just as Maya lunged. Maya stabbed at her chaotically with an anger that seemed personal—they hate you for your strength, for your success.
Sloan used the girl’s inexperience to her advantage. She threw her right hand up underneath Maya’s extended bicep, grabbed the girl’s wrist and locked her arm back. Maya’s trapped hand opened reflexively, dropping the blade. Sloan kicked the weapon away, releasing the girl. She took a step back, out of Maya’s reach.
“Stop lunging, refocus,” she advised the girl. But her words fell on deaf ears—Maya didn’t want her advice.
Maya leaped at her wildly, one knife still in hand, and Sloan easily sidestepped.
“Listen to her, Woods, she’s trying to teach you!” West’s voice called out.
Maya seemed to be completely enraged, ignoring anything said to her. She moved quickly—she was fast, but Sloan was faster. More importantly, she simply had more skill and experience. Once more, Sloan got ahold of Maya’s wrist, twisting it outward until freeing the second knife. She pulled Maya into a hold, grabbed her own knife and brought the holographic blade to Maya’s throat.
The spar was over.
“Forty-five seconds, Woods . . . Lieutenant Radcliffe has beaten you in forty-five seconds,” West admonished, stepping into the circle.
Sloan released her hold on the girl. “Maya, you have good speed but you need to—”
Before Sloan could finish speaking, Maya made a sudden move, swinging around and clipping Sloan in the jaw. Sloan backed up, cursing the pain. Maya spun wildly, driving her knee into Sloan’s abdomen. Sloan managed to deflect in time, preventing getting winded. Maya, in her rookie abilities, showed panic. She lunged for a knife by Sloan’s feet.
I was trying to teach you . . . Sloan shook her head. She was sick of being treated like this. She rubbed her jaw as Maya scurried on the grass for a weapon, although what she was going to do with a fake knife was beyond Sloan. It didn’t matter; she was on Maya in a second, swiftly striking the side of the girl’s face, anticlimactically ending the fight. Maya rolled onto her back, holding her face, her lip bleeding. Sloan shot an angry look to Elijah—he was visibly worried.
This is what happens when you challenge us.
Elijah wanted to take Jared’s title; he wanted this girl to take Sloan’s. Well, now he knew how that would go. Sloan stepped back, frustrated. She relished the opportunity to show exactly why she was the best—but she hadn’t lost her temper, she hadn’t truly gone after Woods; in fact, she had tried to give her advice. And a foul shot was the thanks she got for her leniency and kindness.
“Cheap shot, Woods. The spar was over.” West sighed, helping Maya to her feet. He ordered the girl to the Infirmary and turned his back to the group to face Sloan.
“You alright?”
Sloan shrugged. “Of course I am, sir.”
“Don’t take it personally, Radcliffe. You know how the other students see you and Jared,” he advised.
Sloan wanted to say, Yeah, they love him and hate me, but she remained silent. Didn’t they know that living with such responsibility was awful? That being the best made her a target, it made her a key player in a war that she could die in.
West turned from her, clapping to regain the attention of the group. “Okay, all of you pair up. Sloan, seeing as you broke Daniel’s partner, you pair with him.”
“Major West, I would rather—” Sloan protested but West shot her a silencing look.
“You play by my rules here, Radcliffe. Now pair up with Daniels,” he ordered. Sloan glanced to the other end of the field; she could just make out Jared near the archery center.
He’s not going to like this.
“That was unnecessary.” Elijah’s voice spun her around. He was standing just inches away from her, causing her to step back.
“And her cheap shot wasn’t? I was trying to train her. You having her think she’s good enough to take me is your problem. She’s nowhere near capable of taking my championship.”
Elijah rolled his eyes at her arrogance. “You and Dawson are so obsessed with being the best.”
Sloan scoffed. “Coming from the guy who is trying to organize taking our championships from us. That’s rich, Daniels.”
He shook his head, but remained silent. Can’t argue with that truth, can you?
“Is she your betrothed? Is that what this is about—you two want to take over from Jared and me?” Sloan pressed.
“Get over yourself. Not everything is about you and Jared.”
Sloan glared at him. “How else would we see this? You challenging Jared, training your betrothed to challenge me.”
“She’s not my betrothed—I don’t have a betrothed,” he admitted angrily. He obviously regretted the words, looking away from her quickly.
“That’s not possible.” She shook her head. “You’re of age.” And yet, Sloan realized, she had never seen him at a Betrothal Calling. The Calling happened shortly after their sixteenth birthdays, before the entire Academy, but she couldn’t remember ever seeing Elijah take part.
Why do I even care?
He shrugged his shoulders. “I just don’t.” Another part of the enigma that was Elijah Daniels. Whatever. Betrothed or not, Sloan was certain he had feelings for Maya. Why else would he watch their spar with such concern?
Which gives me the leverage I need. . .
“If you back out of Fight Night, I won’t annihilate Maya Woods in front of the entire Academy when she comes after my championship.”
Elijah eyed her up bemusedly. “Afraid I’m going to hurt your blue-eyed boy?”
“Not in the slightest. Jared is a champion, and so am I. Not you and definitely not Maya Woods. You two should back out before someone gets hurt. Before Maya gets hurt. You know the girl is no match for me.”
“Well, that will be her problem.”
Is he calling my bluff—or does he really not care?
Elijah took a step near her. “If you aren’t worried about Jared then why are you so afraid?”
Elijah infuriated her. He seemed to be completely oblivious to the threat Jared posed him. Every opponent Jared had ever faced in Fight Night had lost, had been hurt, had wound up suffering in the Infirmary. Every. Single. One. It was all she could do to just forget her whole protest and let Jared destroy this guy. And yet she couldn’t help but try to stop it from happening. Why? Why can’t I just let him fight?
Because Jared might kill him. . .
The thought ran across her mind again, and it agitated her.
Why did she care what Jared did to him? Elijah Daniels was obviously a jerk. But Sloan had witnessed Jared destroy contenders whom he had no personal feelings towards. She didn’t know what he was capable of doing to someone he had an agenda against.
She crossed her arms over her chest, huffing loudly. “Because I know you two have some outside issue that you’re trying to bring into the ring—that’s dangerous.”
Sloan avoided looking directly at Elijah’s eyes. She studied his neck . . . and then feared what Jared might do when he got his hands on it.
Elijah laughed.
Now he’s laughing at me. . .
“You still don’t know why Dawson hates me? Of course you don’t; you didn’t even realize why I’m not—” But his voice trailed off in a chuckle as he turned from her. She grabbed his bare arm, spinning him back.
“All I know is that you’re causing a problem in my relationship—now just back out of the damn Fight Night.”
Elijah pulled free of her grip. “Oh, yeah? How do you know it’s me causing the problem? How do you know it’s not your one true love doing all of this? Maybe you two aren’t even meant—” he began, but stopped himself. She glared at him, daring him to finish that sentence.
West appeared at their side, interrupting their argument. “Radcliffe, Daniels, do we have a problem?”
“No, sir,” they answered in curt unison.
West studied the two of them, nodding slowly. “Then get training.”
“We just need some real blades, Major,” Sloan announced. Elijah wanted to fight a champion so badly? I’ll show him what that entails.
West nodded approvingly and pulled two steel blades from his bag, taking Sloan’s holographic training weapon. She slipped the knife into her waistband, eyeing Elijah for any sign of hesitation. He showed none.
“Keep your guard up,” West advised unnecessarily before leaving them. Sloan walked away from the other students, finding freer space on the green. Elijah followed, taking a formal stance. They locked eyes.
“On your ready.” He smiled, his voice cool and calm.
