CHAPTER SIX
The mess hall smelled of roasted meat and hot bread, a welcome relief after two months of the thin, frozen rations at their Northern outpost. Thalia sliced into a steaming slab of roasted venison, savoring the warmth radiating from the meat.
Beside her, Luna picked delicately at her stew, eyes darting around the crowded hall, ever watchful.
“I never thought I’d say this,” Brynn said from across the table, “but the food here is actually edible. At least, compared to that gruel they served at the outpost.”
Thalia nodded in agreement. "I almost forgot food could be seasoned."
“I don’t know if I’d call this seasoned,” Luna said, stirring her stew. “It’s still barely tolerable.”
“All three of you are so fussy,” Ashe said. “It doesn’t get better than —” She broke off, her gaze fixing on something behind Thalia’s shoulder. Thalia turned to see Instructor Wolfe approaching, and at once, she sat up straighter.
Wolfe, the former overseer of the Howling Forge’s operations, had taken on the role of Head Instructor after Maven’s treachery in Thalia’s third year.
She was tall and muscular, with a short tuft of mouse-brown hair and a perpetually grim expression.
Her severity, Thalia knew from experience, was less alarming than her smile; her incisors were pointed, like a canine’s teeth.
“Instructor,” Thalia said, inclining her head.
“Greenspire. Meadows. Firstborn.” Wolfe greeted each of them in turn, her voice cool and eyes narrowed. “I’ve just finished sending a raven to your commanding officer explaining the situation, and informing him that you’ll be serving at Frostforge for the time being.”
“Thank you, Instructor,” Luna began, but Wolfe cut her off with a sharp jerk of her chin.
“Don’t thank me. Frostforge isn’t taking you three out of charity.
You are soldiers assigned to posts here, and you’ll fulfill the duties of soldiers, or you’ll be sent back to the North.
The four of you can find shift postings in the weapons lockup.
You’ll be reporting to me, and serving under the command of all instructors—and Senna Drake. Understood?”
Thalia nodded, and out of the corner of her eye, saw Brynn, Luna, and Ashe follow suit.
She’d expected no less than this after Marr’s lecture; Frostforge’s instructors didn’t act out of fondness for their pupils, but out of a cold, ruthless pragmatism.
The academy was a central part of the war effort, and its faculty acted accordingly.
"Redwood, Greenspire, you've both been assigned to the inner patrol tonight," Wolfe continued. "From the end of your meal until three hours past midnight.”
Thalia kept her expression neutral, though inwardly she groaned.
The inner patrol—walking the corridors of Frostforge's main keep—was mindless work, usually assigned to one or two ice-metal golems. The constructs could trudge endlessly through the night without fatigue, their rune-etched bodies serving as both sentries and deterrents to any student foolish enough to be out after curfew.
"With all due respect, Instructor," Ashe said, her voice carefully modulated, "we've just completed a journey from the Northern Reaches. We've had little rest in the past three days."
Wolfe's expression sharpened. "Are you questioning my orders, Redwood?"
"No, Instructor." Ashe's jaw tightened. "I merely wished to point out—"
"You are no longer students here," Wolfe cut in, her voice like the crack of ice on a frozen lake. "If your comfort was ever a factor at Frostforge, this is certainly no longer the case."
The rebuke hung in the air between them. Ashe's posture, if possible, became even more rigid. Her face betrayed nothing, but Thalia could feel the tension radiating from her friend like heat from a forge.
"Of course, Instructor," Ashe said, each word precisely formed. "We'll report for duty immediately."
Wolfe nodded once; the matter was settled. "As I said, the full watch roster is posted in the weapons room. Check it regularly. You'll find armor there, as well." She turned away, effectively dismissing them.
The rest of the meal passed in silence, the only sounds between the four conscripts the scraping of utensils against dishes.
Once they were finished eating, Thalia and Ashe exited the hall in silence, their footsteps echoing against the stone floor.
Only when they'd turned into a less-traveled corridor did Ashe's shoulders relax fractionally.
"I wasn't aware our comfort was a factor when we were students," Thalia muttered, just loud enough for Ashe to hear.
A dry laugh escaped Ashe's lips. "We might have been better off at the Northern outpost after all."
"At least we'd be sleeping tonight."
"True." Ashe's mouth quirked upward. "But we eat better here."
Thalia snorted. "You've never tasted good Southern cuisine. You Northerners think salt is a luxury seasoning."
"It is," Ashe protested. "Do you know how hard it is to get salt in the Reaches?"
"In Verdant Port’s markets, we had stalls that sold nothing but spices, in huge piles," Thalia said, the words flowing before she could stop them.
"Saffron, cardamom. Chilis that would make your eyes water just from opening the jar.
" Her voice faltered as the memories collided with what she had learned from Marr: Verdant Port had fallen.
Those market stalls were gone, perhaps burned or looted by the Isle Wardens.
"And the fruit vendors near the harbor would sell slices of pineapple, and fresh mangoes. .."
She trailed off, throat tight. Ashe glanced at her, sharp eyes catching the shift in mood.
"What weapons do you think we'll need tonight?" Ashe asked, smoothly changing the subject. "My crossbow?"
Thalia shook herself, grateful for Ashe's tact. "Sword would be better," she said, forcing her mind back to the present. "If we run into trouble in the halls, it'll be close quarters. No room to aim properly."
Ashe nodded. "Sword it is, then."
They arrived at the small room they'd been assigned upon their return to Frostforge.
It was meant for two occupants, but now housed four—Thalia and Ashe, along with Luna and Brynn.
Two sets of bunk beds had been crammed into the space, leaving barely enough room to move between them.
Their few belongings were stacked in corners or tucked beneath the lower bunks.
It didn't take long for them to don their armor and select their weapons. Thalia chose her familiar ice-steel short sword, the weight of it a comfort against her hip. Ashe, following Thalia's advice, selected a Northern-style longsword rather than her preferred crossbow.
The first few hours passed in tedious monotony.
They walked the prescribed routes through Frostforge's labyrinthine corridors, passing other patrollers at designated checkpoints.
The academy slowly settled into its nighttime rhythm as students returned to their common areas, then to their dormitories.
Instructors retreated to their private quarters.
The blue glow of the cryomantic lamps dimmed, programmed to fade as the night deepened.
Thalia and Ashe maintained professional silence while others were about, exchanging only necessary words as they passed groups of students or other patrollers. But as the hour grew late and the corridors emptied, Ashe broke the quiet.
"I never told you about my briefing with Wolfe," she said, her voice low despite the emptiness of the hallway they were traversing.
Thalia immediately perked up, her fatigue momentarily forgotten. "What did she say about Roran's trial?"
Ashe's expression grew troubled. "Nothing good. But I did learn who’s sitting on the tribunal. Five of them: Wolfe, Virek, Marr, Irongrave, and Solberg."
"Did Wolfe say what she expects from you? Why did they summon you?"
"She told me that the tribunal has already decided on the outcome. They called me in to 'provide more insight into the events of prior seasons' — Wolfe's words." Ashe grimaced. "I have a feeling they know what happened during the Storm Chase, or at least have their suspicions."
Thalia’s heart sank; she’d known this was the case already, but hearing it from Wolfe, by way of Ashe, felt like the final nail in the coffin. “What events?” Thalia pressed, swallowing her disappointment. “Did she mention the Storm Chase specifically, or —”
“No.” Ashe shook her head. Her frustration was palpable. “She was vague about it. Wouldn’t answer any of my questions, just dismissed me once she’d given me the briefing. So I suppose it’ll be a surprise once we’re all in that amphitheater.”
They continued their patrol in silence for a time, their footsteps echoing against the ancient stone.
Frostforge's interior was strangely hushed, as if the very walls were holding their breath.
The dim oil lamps, lit with the academy's signature blue, cryomantically-influenced flame, cast long shadows that flickered over banners and weapon racks.
Outside the narrow windows, snow drifted steadily against the glass.
The uncertainty gnawed at Thalia like a physical thing. She couldn't fight shadows and insinuations; she needed to know exactly what Roran was being condemned for, needed to hear it from his own lips.
Her jaw tightened as they passed under a row of dimly glowing rune-lamps. The decision crystallized in her mind like ice forming over water—sudden and complete.
"Ashe," she said, stopping in the middle of the corridor. "I need a favor."
Ashe turned to face her, eyes narrowing at whatever she saw in Thalia's expression. "What kind of favor?" she asked, though her tone suggested she already knew.
"Cover for me," Thalia said. "Just for a little while. I need to go to the north tower."
"To see Bright," Ashe said. It wasn't a question.
"I have to talk to him. Before the trial. Or I’ll lose my mind."