13. Max
MAX
“ A s a trainee, you’ll bunk with all the other first-year male cadets at Greycrown Academy,” Caspian had warned. “There won’t be any special treatment.”
How exciting.
I can never tell if you’re serious or being sarcastic, the demon observed.
I wasn’t worried about the barracks. I’d lived as a boy my whole life. And I’d choose soldiering over being secretary to any of the heirs a million times over.
Harrow, a staff cadet, briefed me on military rules, structures, and all the shit a first-year needed to know as he led me toward the training wing. It sat at the rear of the fortress, separated from the main compound by a long courtyard of cracked flagstone.
I learned the four heirs ruled the Zodiac Covenant together. Each commanded their own army: the shifters under Caspian, the vampires under Nikolai, the Fae and mages under Aelindor, and the rest—hybrids and other species—under Drakken.
The dragon heir also oversaw training at the two-year academy.
Not great news, considering the hatred Drakken harbored for me.
I hoped he’d forget me once I became just another face in the crowd, that I’d be long gone before the year ended.
As soon as I was strong enough and had learned solid survival skills, I’d go back for my sister.
“You’ll sleep in the common barracks with all the first-year cadets on the second floor.” Harrow gestured toward a three-story building.
It was an old military construction—thick concrete walls reinforced with steel beams, weathered gray and patched in places where old damage had been repaired. Narrow windows ran in tight rows along each floor.
Harrow escorted me inside. “The ground floor is for second-years. Third floor’s for female cadets. Harassment won’t be tolerated in this camp.”
I studied the vast barracks. Rows of bunk beds stretched out, each one identical: metal frames bolted to the floor, thin mattresses, a single pillow, a folded blanket at the foot. The air smelled of boot polish and the faint, lingering sweat of bodies that had trained hard and slept harder.
“There are three barracks like this on this floor, all for first-year male cadets.” Harrow’s tired brown eyes swept the room.
He’d done this a hundred times, steering new recruits through the same flat delivery.
“Common showers and bathrooms are at the end of the hall. Open layout. Tidiness and hygiene are mandatory, unless you’re in the field. ”
Shit. Showers would be an issue. I’d have to be cautious—shower only when everyone was asleep. Even then, discovery was a risk. I bit the inside of my cheek.
“You’ll make your bed properly before training every dawn.” Harrow continued his litany. “Punishment for the undisciplined is…unpleasant.”
He gave me a look that might have been pity—he’d seen how Drakken treated me. I kept my face blank.
“We don’t have a bunk for you yet.” He pointed toward the far end of the room. “You’ll sleep on the cot for now. Your three sets of uniform, boots, and toiletries are in the trunk by your bed.”
I nodded my thanks.
“Try to survive, Cadet.” He left, done with me.
My cot was against the wall, ten yards from the emergency exit door.
It was the only cot amid hundreds of twin-over-twin bunk beds—a single, conspicuous exception in a room built on uniformity.
I’d bet my last meal that this was Drakken’s design.
His way of singling me out, marking me as the outsider, the one who didn’t belong.
If he wanted to make me weep with misery, he’d failed.
I’d slept on the ground my whole life, on a worn cot you could barely call a cot. The thin blanket from the mine had gone to Missy. I’d fold it twice to keep her warm. Didn’t need one myself. Truth was, Missy didn’t get cold at night either. Not when she curled against me.
“You’re warm, Max,” she’d murmur, her small body fitting against mine, her breathing evening out the way kids’ does. Like she trusted the world not to hurt her because I was there.
My chest tightened. The miners would take care of her. They’d promised. But she’d be cold without me.
Soon, little viper. I swallowed against the ache. I’ll come back for you.
I’d train. Learn to fight until I proved my worth. Then I’d bring my sister here, buy her a safe spot in the fortress where she’d never be hungry again.
I shrugged off Aelindor’s coat—tried not to breathe in his scent too deeply—and laid it against the wall on my cot.
Before I left the interrogation room, Aelindor had taken off his long coat and handed it to me.
The Fae prince was kind and considerate like that.
I could see why everyone looked up to him.
Drakken had shot him a strange look at the gesture, but Caspian and Nikolai appeared almost regretful, as if they wished they’d offered first.
The coat draped over my sorry rags had made me feel less exposed when Harrow paraded me across the courtyard.
I opened the trunk to see what they’d given me.
Everything Harrow said I’d get was there: three sets of uniform, two casual-wear sets, three pairs of men’s boxers, two pairs of boots, five pairs of socks.
I stared at them. I’d never owned anything so luxurious.
No miner owned socks or boots. Even if I’d stolen some from the guards, they wouldn’t have beaten me for it; they’d have beaten someone else instead.
And no boots could ever fit my feet back then, anyway.
I picked up a pair of socks, held them to my nose, and inhaled.
The clean scent of cotton made me close my eyes. When I opened them, I found myself hugging a pair of boots to my chest. They were my size. Like a miracle.
Before I could savor it, the entrance door swung open and a group of cadets in gray and slate-blue fatigues poured in. Black boots that hadn’t earned any unit patches. These were academy trainees, not soldiers yet.
Shit. I’d planned to grab my toiletries, sneak off for a quick shower. Now the cadets were back from training.
I froze, still pressing the boots to my nose, as every gaze in the group locked onto me.
“Maker’s breath, it stinks in here!” one of them shouted across the room. “The new boy smells worse than a rotten egg!”
My face flamed, anger rising beneath the shame. They were training to be soldiers, and they complained about a smell? Some spoiled softies, wrinkling their noses at a miner who couldn’t afford a proper bath.
The demon chuckled.
“Go shower, boy!” The tallest of them stepped forward—still a few inches shorter than me. He had a heavy jaw, low brows, and wheat-colored hair. “Scrub yourself raw and burn that rag before coming back. You’ll not shame our rank.”
They didn’t call me cadet. I hadn’t earned it yet .
I grabbed a set of casual wear and my toiletries from the trunk, then scooped up Aelindor’s coat and stalked toward the door without a word. The other cadets covered their noses, parting to let me through before filing toward their own bunks with exaggerated disgust.
Harrow was in the corridor, filling out paperwork on a clipboard braced against his forearm. He glanced up as I approached.
I held out the coat. “Please return this to Prince Aelindor. And tell him I said thank you.”
Harrow looked at the coat, then at me. “Of course.”
The staff cadet took the coat with a careful grip, tucked the clipboard under his arm, and walked away.
I made my way toward the common showers.
The sound hit me before I reached the entrance—running water, chatter, rough laughter bouncing off tile and stone. I stepped through the doorway.
And froze.
It was all open.
No stalls. No curtains. No dividers. Just a long, rectangular room of gray tile with a row of showerheads bolted to one wall, and a drain channel cut into the sloped floor.
Over two dozen men stood under the spray, naked and unconcerned—scrubbing soap through their hair, elbowing each other for better water pressure, shouting over the steam and hiss of the pipes.
Some shared a single showerhead because there weren’t enough to go around.
As miners, even relatively clean water had been rationed down to the drop. We washed with rags dipped in collected rainwater, if we were lucky. Seeing this much water running freely, pouring down the drain, was a shock that bordered on offense.
Then my gaze dipped to their cocks, and I jerked it up and away so fast my neck cracked.
I hadn’t seen naked men before. Not like this. In the mines, we changed in the dark. Nobody had the energy to look at anyone else. But here, with two dozen of them swinging their dicks around without a care?
Shit. It was too much.
Just dicks, the demon chortled. And everyone has one. Except you.
No way could I shower here without being discovered.
Being outed as a girl was unthinkable. I’d played the role of a boy ever since I could walk.
I didn’t know why it had been so important to my parents to disguise me.
Desta had stayed a girl and had no trouble for it.
It couldn’t just be about my size, could it?
The naked cadets snapped their hostile gazes toward me—the filthy newcomer standing in the doorway, fully clothed, staring. I turned and fled before anyone could call me out, their coarse laughter chasing me into the corridor.
Shit, I needed a plan.
Maybe I could wait them out. But there’d always be someone coming and going. A place like this never fully emptied unless everyone was sleeping or training.
I could shower with my chest-binding and clothes on.
That would make me not just a laughingstock but a target.
Or I could sneak into the women’s shower room on the third floor.
Right. If I wanted to risk being beaten by some tough soldier woman who’d take one look at my frame and assume I was a pervert.
Then again, maybe they wouldn’t mind. Soldiers were less modest?
Wild thoughts churned. No solid solution came. If I knew the compound better, I could find a way to sneak around, get myself cleaned. But this was an airtight military fortress, and I’d spent my first three days in an underground holding cell and the interrogation room.
Two more cadets glared at me in disgust as they passed. They sniffed pointedly. Shifters—I could feel it. All of them had sensitive noses, and I must have smelled like a walking dumpster.
I couldn’t stand here, and I couldn’t go back to the barracks either.
Just then, a figure approached from the other end of the corridor.
He was backlit by the Stormglass lanterns behind him, his silhouette tall and broad-shouldered. His presence filled the space like a current. The cadets who’d just passed me straightened and pressed themselves against the wall, dropping their eyes.
They knew exactly who was coming.
The vampire heir.
Nikolai walked with unhurried strides, his long legs eating up the distance. As he drew closer and the light caught his features—sharp cheekbones, square jaw, full lips set in an expression of perfect aristocratic boredom—I saw his crimson eyes were already fixed on me.
He’d known exactly where I’d be.
My breath locked in my throat. Every nerve from my collarbone to my knees pulled taut, like a wire someone had just plucked .
Shit. Shit.
This wasn’t normal. Why the fuck did my body keep having this kind of unholy reaction to the vampire?
He tossed a rucksack—I caught it on reflex—and gave a sharp tilt of his chin.
Then he turned on his heel and kept walking toward the exit.
I fell into step behind him silently.