Chapter Two #2
A barbed lump congealed in my throat as everyone but Heta and the guards reassessed me.
No doubt they speculated about how someone like me had garnered such keen interest from our illustrious leader.
Because there was no way Emperor Dolion would ever concern himself with a random, low-ranking girlfriend of a royal high prince, even if said high prince was his grandson.
Roman frowned at me as I slinked lower still in my seat. So. One question had an answer, at least. They were surveilling me. An intimidation tactic meant to scare me into a confession of guilt.
Miller gave me a look of disgust and muttered, “The high prince wasn’t good enough for you, eh? You had to go and sleep your way to the very tippity top.”
My cheeks heated. For the most part, he’d ignored me before this. The emperor’s guards must have put me on his radar.
I held his gaze and followed Cyrus’s example for dealing with unruly trainees. “Are you sure you want to travel this route with me, Mills? Right or not, I obviously have connections you don’t.”
He paled and backed off. And yeah, okay, satisfaction bloomed.
“All right, let’s get started.” Archduke Heta spread his arms. “With the mass loss of cadets who were on special assignment with King Tagin, and the restructuring of the teams, I’m now your be-all and end-all.
No matter who you are, or how high your connections”—he hit me with a pointed glance—“I will not tolerate a break in the chain of command. If you have a problem, come to me. Are we clear?”
My cheeks burned a thousand degrees hotter, but I nodded for his benefit.
“A few updates,” he continued, casual now. “We won’t be traveling to Theirland on Friday. You require more training. Also, the competition for top soldier has been postponed.”
His last bombshell inspired groans of disappointment and gasps of shock.
Heta held up his hands in a demand for silence, which he received.
He might be small in stature, but he projected a big presence.
“Since the Soalians have increased the ferocity of their attacks against CURED, we’re accelerating your training this month.
We want you focused on learning, not on winning a prize.
Though I’d dare to say knowledge is the ultimate reward. ”
Done with that subject, he lifted his infamous clicker. “Since you’ll never outgrow warfare, you must learn to fight.” With the press of a button, he caused the wall behind him to light up with images.
I saw a night-darkened sky lit by blasts of lightning and broken circus rides spotlighted by pritis stones.
Those small golden orbs topped poles in clusters, resembling grapes on a vine.
My fingers curled over the edge of my seat, righteous anger sweeping through me.
Now that I knew how those glowing “stones” were harvested, I wanted only to tear down the posts and spit in the holes.
“By now you’ve visited Theirland on numerous occasions,” Heta said. “You’ve walked through the rifts between our two realms. Have experienced the other world’s eternal darkness and inverted vision, and have participated in a mock patrol, slaying feeders too far gone for treatment.”
Feeders. Of the two types of maddened—according to CURED—feeders were the most common.
In truth, they were the only ones actually infected.
Driven by hunger, they craved the second type: glowers.
Glowers weren’t infected; they were Soalian.
When feeders couldn’t get to them, they settled for whatever flesh and blood they could find.
Heta continued, “When I feel the team is ready, you’ll each accompany a superior officer on an actual patrol. Stakes have never been higher, so I suggest you pay special attention when I speak.”
Once again, perspiration glazed my palms. Me.
On patrol. In the dark. The moment someone pegged me as a glower, I was as good as dead.
And how could anyone not discover it? True to the description, I now glowed in the dark.
Well, sometimes I glowed. Mostly. I did it on command but also spontaneously.
Kind of. Maybe. Ugh! I just didn’t know.
I was too new to this. As a two-day-old Soalian, I had more questions than answers.
And I was missing the archduke’s lecture, dang it. Inner shake.
“—left behind for whatever reason, hide there,” he was saying. “A knight will come for you at some point.”
Ack! Hide where?
“There will be more maddened than you can fathom, and you’ll be fighting for your life nonstop.
Amid the pandemonium, you must work with your teammates, learning when to strike, when to dodge, and when to back off.
To help you navigate this, you’ll be chained to a different trainee each day for the next five days, from warm-up until free time.
Grab a tether on your way out. Today, you’re paired with whoever is sitting next to you. ”
Roman reached out, gripped the edge of my desk, and tugged me closer still. Great. I now had three guard dogs observing my every move. At least none of them were the meta, short for “metal.” The robotic dogs patrolled the cities, recording everything.
I stayed pressed together with my partner as the archduke played footage where swarms of mindless maddened surged forward, their irises eclipsed by blazing crimson.
Small, pale worms writhed from their scalps, squiggled in place of their lashes, and slithered from their ears and noses.
A froth of white foam leaked from the corners of their mouths in a continuous stream.
Revulsion rocked me. How I hated the idea of entering Theirland, the abandoned world where this type of feeder congregated. But I must. I had orders from my real boss. According to Ember Cruz, I must remain immersed in CURED’s training program.
Budding anxiety distracted me as Heta spoke about the different places the maddened preferred to hide to ambush patrolmen. By the time the bell rang, I was certain I had retained none of it.
“Don’t forget your chain,” he commanded. “Make sure you and your partner are secured for weapons class. Today, Duchess Mimidae is teaching you how to properly wield a spear, my favorite weapon.” As we stood and filed out, he called, “Lady Roosa. A word.”
I winced and glanced at Roman. “I’ll meet you in the hallway.”
“Nope,” he said with a shake of his head, his usual smug but lovable self. “We’re bound together, baby. Where you go, I go. Instructor’s orders.”
Wonderful. Tremors overtook me as we approached Heta’s desk.
The archduke leaned back in his chair, linked his fingers over his middle, and peered up at us.
“If your personal life continues to disrupt my classes, I won’t be pleased.
I don’t care who you’re dating. I will excuse no tardies, tolerate no disrespect, and show no preferential treatment. Do you understand?”
“Sir, yes, sir. Thank you, sir,” I replied, and I meant it.
“Dismissed.” He turned his focus to his files, saying nothing else.
Roman grabbed a thin metal cord and guided me out of the room. My guards followed. In the hall, the trainee slung his arms around my shoulders, saying quietly, “I haven’t forgotten your super-secret, special mission before all this started. I’m sure you can’t speak about what’s going on . . .”
“Correct. I can’t,” I confirmed.
“Just be careful. I’ve heard things.”
As the son of a marquis, Roman had grown up among the gentry. “Don’t stop there. Tell me what you’ve heard.” I kept my volume as low as his, ensuring the guards heard nothing. “And while you’re at it, finish what you were saying earlier, about Cyrus. Why is his shot at king low?”
“Hang on.” Roman led me into the commons, a spacious room divided into a trio of sections designated for entertainment, studying, and dining.
But he didn’t stop. On we went, entering another hallway before descending a flight of stairs.
Rather than huddling up in our next classroom, he kept me in the thick of a crowd, dozens of conversations taking place around us as trainees and soldiers rushed here and there.
He bent his head and told me, “I heard the HP and his grandfather are feuding. Started recently. I don’t know all the details .
. .” He paused, giving me a chance to respond.
“I don’t either.” At Roman’s look of disbelief, I added, “Honestly, I know nothing about a feud.” Cyrus hadn’t mentioned it. I wondered, though. Did it revolve around me, the nobody girlfriend? I mean, our relationship was a recent development as well.
For victory, I would absolutely, unequivocally end the relationship. At least publicly. And temporarily. Don’t vomit. “You mentioned High Prince Felix is the front-runner. Do you know why?”
“A year ago, a glower killed his wife. He’s been on a revenge tour ever since. Across the board, his stats are mind-blowing.”
Okay, forget recruiting him. He wouldn’t be interested in becoming a glower like me and Cyrus. Although, there must be more to the story of his wife’s death. A mistake of some sort. Murder wasn’t the Soalian way. That much, I knew.
“Look,” Roman said. “Whatever caused the quarrel between grandfather and grandson, Cyrus will have to patch things up if he wants to win the crown.”
I raised my chin, determined. “Mark my words. Cyrus will be the next king of Ourland.” Quarrel or not, we would find a way. Nothing would stop us now.