Chapter 28 #2
“Very well,” he says, though his tone suggests he’s far from convinced. “Whatever it is, keep it close. You’ll need it today.”
He strides toward the training room exit, his cloak billowing behind him. “Come on. I’ll show you to the dining hall.”
“So I’m ready?” I ask, hurrying to catch up to his long strides despite my aching muscles.
Falcen doesn’t slow his pace. “You’re as ready as you’ll ever be.”
“That’s not exactly reassuring.”
“It wasn’t meant to be.”
The academy is just beginning to stir as we make our way through the corridors.
Early risers, mostly Hollows and a few dedicated adepts do a double take at Falcen as we pass.
I suppose they’re unused to an Elite walking the main halls.
They have their own wing and are generally treated like royalty among the lower ranks, because they’re the few who’ve survived literally everything the academy has to throw at them before sending them out to fight the Voidspawn.
It’s a stark reminder that he’s wandering these plebeian halls because the Master Keeper has decreed he watch over me.
Otherwise, he’d be where all the other Elites are and doing whatever they do to prepare for the outside war.
By the time we reach the dining hall, students are filing into the massive space. Long tables stretch in parallel lines across the stone floor, and a vaulted ceiling contains the morning light filtering through tall, narrow windows on either side.
Falcen’s hand briefly touches the small of my back, guiding me toward the serving area.
I gasp at the tingling feeling, and not only because it’s him and his particular touch that always manages to stall my inhales.
Falcen must have retained enough gold powder on his fingers to stroke across the gash on my back.
“Eat quickly.”
I swear his touch strokes once before retreating.
“You’re not joining me?” I ask, eyeing the line of unfamiliar faces waiting for their food.
“Elites don’t dine with initiates.” His voice is clipped, and I recall that Falcen doesn’t need to eat. Not in the human way, at least. “I’ll collect you when it’s time.”
Before I can protest, he’s gone, melting into the crowd with surprising ease for someone so imposing. I stand awkwardly for a moment, clutching my tray as I take my place in line.
“You look like shit,” a familiar voice behind me says.
I turn to find Davrin, his tall, lean frame ambling into place behind me. His pale-green eyes rake over my collection of partially healed cuts and bruises with undisguised glee. “Rough morning?”
“Training accident,” I mutter, attempting to turn my back on him.
Davrin moves with me, deliberately staying within my line of sight.
“Training? Are you sure it was that, or did your handler finally get tired of your incompetence? Imagine being an Elite forced to work with a leftover like you. If I were him, I would’ve just sucked your soul out for breakfast and been done with it. ”
Several nearby initiates in line smile, their attention drawn to our confrontation.
My teeth lock together. “I’m managing just fine.”
“Really? Because rumor has it you passed out like a fainting maiden when summoning your weapon for the first time.” His voice carries just enough for those around us to hear. “I’m impressed you even were able to forge a soul-weapon. What’s it like knowing you’re the weakest link in the academy?”
“You’re simply jealous she has an Elite giving her tips, and you do not,” a new voice cuts in.
The ponytailed girl from Keeper Malakai’s class steps up beside me, her lithe body creating a barrier between Davrin and me. Her dark eyes hold a warning as she meets Davrin’s stare. “How many Elites have you requested to work with you? And how many have refused?”
Davrin’s face darkens. “Stay out of this, Rook.”
“Or what?” Rook’s smile is pleasant, but her eyes remain hard. “You’ll challenge me to a duel you know you’ll lose? Again?”
The line moves forward, and I take the opportunity to put some distance between myself and Davrin. Rook follows, positioning herself at my side.
“Thanks,” I murmur, accepting a bowl of steaming porridge from an empty-eyed, female Hollow with lank, colorless hair.
“Don’t mention it.” Rook fills her own bowl, adding dried fruit from a small ceramic pot. “Davrin’s been insufferable since the Master Keeper announced you’d arrived. He was convinced he’d be the next initiate elevated to special training status.”
We find seats at the end of one of the long tables, far enough from Davrin’s group to avoid further confrontation. The porridge is bland but filling, and I realize I’m ravenous after the brutal pre-dawn session with Falcen.
“Special training status?” I ask between spoonfuls.
Rook nods. “Most initiates train in groups of twelve or more. Individual attention from an Elite is unprecedented, actually. Especially from Resonant Reaves. He holds the highest rank an Elite can achieve before being elevated to the Order.”
The spoon pauses halfway to my mouth. I knew Falcen could match his arrogance with his abilities, but to hear it confirmed by a virtual stranger makes me even more curious as to why such a powerful Soulren wants to help me.
“You didn’t know?” Rook’s eyebrows rise, mistaking my frozen expression for awe. “Before Reaves left the academy, he commanded entire battalions against Void incursions. They say he once held back a Veil tear single-handedly for three days while civilians evacuated.”
My stomach churns, and it has nothing to do with the porridge. The magnitude of what Falcen’s been forced to sacrifice to train me settles around me like an invisible, heavy cloak, but it still begs the question: Why did he leave this place if he was so powerful?
“Do you know why he left?” I ask, setting down my spoon.
Rook glances around nervously before leaning closer.
“No one knows for certain. One day he was here, the next he was gone. Some say he disagreed with the Order of Keepers’ methods.
Others are convinced he was banished for going against the Master Keeper’s wishes.
” Her voice drops even lower. “There are rumors he killed civilians during a mission.”
My blood chills. The porridge turns to rot in my mouth as I remember Falcen’s haunted expression when he spoke of his past and the guilt that seems to eat at him from within.
“But those are just rumors,” Rook continues quickly. “Whatever happened, the Master Keeper obviously forgave him if he’s been allowed back.”
Or they need him too badly to care about his desertion, I think. And they’re forcing him to stay by dangling Callie over his head.
“Speaking of training,” Rook says, brightening, “I heard we’re doing live combat today. Real weapons, real consequences. I can’t wait to see what your soul-weapon looks like.”
My appetite vanishes completely. I’m not like Rook, a Soulren who happily kills for the power of souls and is excited at the prospect of battles to the death. The thought of manifesting my Veilrot-leaking halberd in front of a room full of feral initiates still makes me want to vomit.
I will help, my ember assures.
Unfortunately, her presence is never truly reassuring.
“Usually we’re pit against each other, or Hollows, if we’re lucky. They get really angry when poked.” Rook’s eyes gleam. “I wonder which one it is today.”
I push my bowl away, stomach lurching. Falcen failed to mention that part.
“You’re not eating,” Rook observes. “First day jitters, huh? You’ll get used to it. We all do.”
A tray clatters down beside mine, startling us both. Davrin drops onto the bench, his lanky frame folding awkwardly as he settles in.
“What are you doing?” I ask, unable to keep the suspicion from my voice.
“Eating breakfast,” he says, shoveling a spoonful of porridge into his mouth. “It’s what people do in a dining hall.”
Rook pushes her lips to the side. “Since when do you sit with us?”
“Since I realized that our new friend here”—he notches his chin in my direction—”is of interest to me.”
Davrin’s attention flicks to the exposed cuts on my arms, but lingers on the partially healed one at my throat. “You’ve got an Elite training you, but you clearly lack basic academy survival skills.”
“Do those skills include sitting where you’re not wanted?” Rook asks.
Davrin sneers, “It would be a true shame if something happened to the Master Keeper’s special project.” He leans back in his chair and throws his arm around the empty one beside him.
I stiffen, my fingers curling around my spoon as if it could suffice as an improvised soul-weapon.
“Back off, Dav,” Rook warns.
He angles his head, then raises his voice so others can hear. “Are you spreading your legs for him? Is that how you earned an Elite’s attention?”
Several heads turn our way.
Heat rushes to my cheeks as Davrin’s words land with precise targeting.
“What’s wrong? Don’t tell me I’ve stumbled upon the truth.”
My ember flares hot beneath my breastbone, and the telltale fizzing in my veins where she yearns to spread.
I clench my hands under the table, fighting to stay neutral.
“You’re pathetic,” I say through the rage building inside me.
Davrin’s snide grin falters, but only for the time it takes for him to lean across the table, close enough that I can smell the sour milk on his breath.
“You think you’re special? The academy doesn’t care about your potential as a shit stain. All they care about is what rare energy they can extract from you after seeing how woeful you are on the training grounds. And when they’re done, there won’t be enough left of your body to fill a thimble.”
A shadow falls over the table before I can respond, and the dining hall goes deathly quiet.
I want to dissolve into the floor. Every pair of eyes has swiveled our way.
“Initiate Koll.”
Falcen’s voice cuts through the silence, directed at Davrin.
“Remove yourself from this table. Now.”