Max
Islipped into the barracks, Nikolai’s scent still on my skin.
I’d held the line tonight. Just barely. The vampire prince had taken less than he needed, respected every boundary I’d set, and sat with me in the quiet afterward like it was enough.
Like I was enough. The part of me that had spent a decade in the underground mine learning not to need anything from anyone had sat there absorbing all of it and wanting more.
The guilt had teeth. Nikolai’s blood bargain. Aelindor’s kiss in a tent. Caspian’s arm around my shoulders in front of an assembly. And Drakken, who couldn’t stand to be in the same room with me but had brought my bedroll and stayed anyway.
Every head turned.
Over a hundred women in various states of undress or mid-routine—cards, tablets, low conversations—and the room went silent the moment I walked in.
I kept walking.
“Max!”
Bryn launched herself off her top bunk with the reckless confidence of someone gifted with super strength, landed without a stumble, and crossed the room in four strides. She hit me like a small freight vehicle, arms around my ribs, squeezing hard.
“I thought you weren’t coming back,” she said into my shoulder, her voice muffled.
She’d thought I was dead. There were grief lines around her eyes.
“I came back.”
She pulled away and did a damage assessment.
“I wasn’t injured,” I said. “Scratches and bruises. Nothing more.”
“You look different,” she said.
“People change.” I moved toward my bunk and she followed.
“Tell me everything!”
We stopped at my bunk. I was acutely aware of every set of ears in the room, even as everyone kept their eyes down and pretended to mind their own business. They all wanted intel from my mouth.
“If I tell you everything, I’ll have to kill you,” I said.
Bryn stared at me for a long moment, then let out a chuckle. She thought I was being funny.
“Classified, Bryn.” I held her gaze. “I’m serious. Some of what happened out there? I can’t talk about it.”
“We all heard about the train attack,” she said. “That wasn’t classified.”
“True.” I chose my words carefully. “It was a demon attack. They came out of the DarkVeil. That’s all I can say.”
“I’m glad you’re okay,” she said, giving me a look that meant she wanted to find a back alley near a dumpster where she could get the full story without witnesses.
“Let’s talk tomorrow,” I said. “I’m spent. I just want to sleep.”
But I had no such luck.
Delia led her circle toward my bunk, a brunette, a pink-haired girl, and two others, probably from the magical class. They moved with purpose, sleep clothes and all. They’d decided something before they came over.
The air in the room shifted the moment they crossed the floor.
Delia stopped at the end of my row and somehow managed to look down at me despite being a head shorter.
“Back already,” she said. “What’s the matter? Did they get bored of you out there?”
I pulled off my boots. “Go to bed, Delia.”
“I’m just curious.” Her cornflower-blue eyes sharpened.
“We all are.” She gestured broadly at the barracks, appointing herself spokesperson for the room.
“You left for the outpost with all three heirs and came back looking like”— a slow, contemptuous once-over—“you had a very comfortable trip. What exactly does a first-year cadet do out there to earn that kind of access?”
“Why don’t you go ask your boyfriend?” I said sweetly.
Bryn snickered. Delia’s circle turned a warning glare on her.
“He won’t tell you, Delia,” Bryn said. “It’s classified.”
“Classified.” The brunette, Petra, I’d heard someone call her, tilted her head. “Is that what they’re calling it now?”
“I hear the heirs have specific tastes,” the pink-haired one added. “And expensive.”
I looked at her, rage beginning to gather. “Careful. Remember who you’re talking about.”
“My boyfriend and I have an understanding. We always do.” Delia smirked, and I forced myself still instead of smacking that smile off her face.
“I know exactly how he interrogated you. You might have fooled the others by batting your eyes, showing your curves, but your seduction never worked on Drakken.” She flicked her fingers.
“You went from a slave in a mine to sleeping in the heirs’ tent in what, a few weeks?
You might think you’re good at hiding, at pretending, but we all know what your real job is. ”
“Blow job!” one girl from her circle shouted.
“They’re paying her to be available. She’s a camp whore.”
The anger rose white-hot and justified, but I’d learned in the mine that anger spent on people like Delia was anger wasted. She wanted to bait me, rattle me, make me go defensive and stumble over denials that would only make the rumors look true.
“Hm.” I shrugged.
Delia blinked. “Hm?”
“How much energy does it take to be this invested in someone else’s life?
You’re a prince’s girlfriend, aren’t you?
According to you, you also come from a founding bloodline.
” I spread my arms. “And you’re spending all your good fortune and energy coordinating rumors about a cadet who’s been here less than a month or two. That’s a lot of effort.”
Petra’s eyes narrowed. “You think you’re so clever?”
“I know I’m tired,” I said. “Which is different.”
“You won’t last.” The pink-haired cadet folded her arms. “The heirs cycle through their women like a revolving door. Prince Caspian’s been through half the base. Prince Nikolai’s donors have been warming his feeding room for years. You’re just the fresh meat, miner.”
“When they’re done with you?” Delia added another dose of fuel. “You won’t walk out—you’ll crawl.”
“Aren’t you tired of hearing yourself?” I snorted. “I am. If you’re done, fuck off. I’m going to sleep.” I swept a glance around the room. “I’d suggest everyone else does the same, unless you want to run laps at this hour.”
The bark came before I’d even finished the sentence, rough-edged and final, booming from just outside the door. “Lights out! One more sound and you’re running laps at midnight.”
Cadet Sergeant Thane was in charge of the entire first-year barracks now, women’s floor included, and he ran it exactly as he ran the men’s: by the rules, without sentiment, and with a deep hatred of drama that outweighed whatever wariness he still carried toward me.
He didn’t hate me exactly. He was just wary, and not without reason. The last time we’d crossed paths, I’d stepped on his moment of demonstrated loyalty at the Sorting.
Lights clicked off in sequence down the row. Thane’s footsteps receded into silence.
In the dark, Delia’s voice came through, just above a whisper. “Enjoy the ride down, Scarecrow. The landing’s going to hurt.”
I let her have it. She didn’t matter. None of them did.
I lay back, and the darkness handed me Missy.
Every night I’d tucked her in and waited for her to start our ritual: forehead pressed to mine, that small, ridiculous giggle, two notes, up and down. Her signal that the day hadn’t beaten us. Two people in the worst place on the continent, agreeing out loud that we were still here.
A month, I’d promised, the day I went over the fence. Two at most, and I’ll come back for you.
She’d be making the sound now, wherever the Collector kept her. Two notes, up and down. Waiting for me to give it back.
My heart broke all over again.
I’m coming, little viper. I’m coming.