CHAPTER FIVE #2
I felt sorry for the beasts, though. The sight of these experimental creations plucked at my heart.
They were so unnatural, so crazed, so unsuited to deal with the ‘extras’ they’d been given by the gods.
Bears with snake scales. Eagles with rhino horns.
Tigers with porcupine quills. The list went on and on.
They most likely suffered from much pain, not to mention the trauma of any experiments they had endured. It seemed cruel.
I’d expected candidates to be pitted against each other during combat, but we never were. There was no point system either. No, we were all forced to endure the same nightmare together—or to quit. It was simple as that.
When we first began, there were sixty-seven candidates—myself included.
But some had died—two were unable to digest the ichor, one had tumbled off a cliff, and another had drowned in a river.
Others had quite simply reached their breaking point and dropped out.
Two had actually tried coming back after a few days’ rest, but they were sent away.
As such, at this point, fifty-nine candidates remained.
It probably surprised the Sovereigns—who I hadn’t seen since my first day here—that I wasn’t among those who had either died or quit. I was a little shocked myself.
Another thing took me off-guard. It turned out that I did have some level of dormant power.
Ever since I’d ingested the ichor, it was a constant presence under my flesh that seemed to purr slightly.
At the same time, there was this budding feeling inside me.
A sense of urgency. A restless anticipation.
Like I was being called to do … something.
Probably just to fully open to what was awakening within me.
It could all become background noise until other side-effects made themselves known.
Sometimes, my skin would itch, my scalp would hurt, my bones would ache, and my blood would feel hot.
According to Khalida, it was a normal part of my mind and cells adjusting to a power I might wield, providing the ichor bonded with my system.
I wasn’t sure if that was possible for a human.
And, yes, that uncertainty chewed at me.
The candidates were also all enduring the same private internal battle regarding their latent abilities. It was possibly worse for them, since they would have way more power inside them than I ever could harbor.
Nobody had yet made any demonstrations of power, but some were sure they soon would—I often heard them boasting about it. Most especially Seneca and Atticus.
“All right, you’re done,” announced Vesper, snapping me out of my thoughts.
My knees almost buckling with relief, I looked at her, seeing that she’d already gone right back to her book.
Stiff and shaky, I pulled on my clothes and left without a goodbye—rude, yes, but I was tired and she wasn’t one for pleasantries anyway.
I rounded the shack, meaning to head straight to the stables so that I could crash. I still slept there. No one complained, not even the stable hands. Nor did they move the pillow or blanket I’d hauled in there at one point. When Talon first saw them, he’d pinned me with a disapproving look.
I’d assured him, “I’m not going to start dragging furniture in here; I’m not under the impression that it’s my bedroom. Being cold and uncomfortable doesn’t make for the best night’s sleep, and I don’t get much of that as it is.”
With a short sigh, he’d shrugged and let it alone.
No matter what ungodly time I was woken, he would come to the tack room to check that I’d put everything to rights. The sight of him each morning always set my body up for the day. Sad, maybe, but I’d take whatever reprieve from the exhaustion that I could get.
Noticing Khalida and Quillen not too far away, I gave them a weak wave.
Pausing their walk, she called out, “How bad was it?”
“I don’t know how my legs are supporting my weight, I really don’t.” It felt like my kneecaps were done.
Shooting me a sympathetic smile, she waved me over. “Come on, head to the tavern with us. I’d say you could use a drink.”
I could, but … “I’m tired.”
Quillen snickered. “You’re not used to that yet?”
Actually, I was getting used to being permanently tired. And I wasn’t liking it much.
“Come on,” nagged Khalida. “Give yourself half an hour to chill. Your mind needs that just as much as it needs rest.”
I exhaled heavily, knowing that she was right. Winding down was another kind of rest. And if all I did was exhaust myself and then sleep without finding any methods of stress relief, the strains of Xalbia would get to me faster. “Okay, fine.”
I walked with them to the tavern. Quillen pushed open the door and ushered me and Khalida inside. I’d only taken a single step when the smells of fermented drinks, melted wax, and wood smoke washed over me.
The tavern had a cheery atmosphere. It was where everyone—officiates and candidates—came to relax and just be. I’d been here quite a few times. Like now, there was always chatter, laughter, gambling, and drinking. Even sometimes singing.
Some sat at the circular tables, sipping from tankards or playing card games. Others were perched on benches at the long tables that were similar to those in the food hall. There were also people stood at the bar or lounging on the stools and barrels there.
Two Laelaps slept near the roaring fire. Another roamed from table to table, its claws clicking on the wooden floor.
Light flickered from the torches, lanterns, table candles, chandeliers, and fireplace. Rays of moonlight also beamed in through the circular windows dotting the building.
Khalida pointed to one of the long tables, where several of her fellow officiates sat, including Soule and Nakoa. “Let’s head over there.”
“I’ll join you in a sec. I have to put my bladder out of its misery first.” I made a beeline for the garderobe, catching the smell of fresh bread coming from the nearby kitchen. I also noticed Atticus, Seneca, and Bevan sitting at a corner table with their usual crowd.
Many groups had formed—some large, some small. Other candidates, like me, had been ‘adopted’ by groups of officiates.
Some candidates had tried their best to infiltrate Talon’s crowd, but it hadn’t worked.
Those particular officiates didn’t appear to wish to socialize with candidates, which had very much disappointed my least favorite fellow Phoenixians, who were also somewhat put-out that Khalida had befriended me rather than give them a warm welcome.
When she’d only laughed at their complaint, Atticus had proclaimed that she was beneath them anyway … which had done him no favors with the rest of the Tapestry, because Khalida was well-liked around here.
Inside the garderobe, I did my business and washed my hands in the basin. Done, I headed back out—
And crashed into another candidate.
I blinked. “Sorry.”
“Whatever,” Lear mumbled as she skirted past me.
All right. Lear was rude to everyone, so I didn’t take it personally. She was one of the candidates who didn’t seem to have any issue with me in general.
The behavior of the other candidates was mixed when it came to me.
Some were civil, seeming to respect that I hadn’t quit, but they weren’t friendly.
Some were aloof, far too preoccupied with the whole Xalbia extravaganza to particularly care about anything else.
Others still watched me with a gleam of calculation in their gaze—more particularly Atticus and his closest buds.
I could admit that Atticus, Seneca, and Bevan had done well so far when it came to Xalbia.
Atticus had passed out once while trekking, but he’d come round fast and hadn’t quit.
Seneca actually fell off a bridge two days ago—if she hadn’t been godkin, she would have had all sorts of broken bones—but hadn’t let it scare her into quitting.
Bevan was damn good at fencing, and he was one of few people who rarely complained; he just got on with it.
As I’d expected, though, the trio didn’t adjust well to having so little say in their routines; to, in Seneca’s words, being ‘treated as human.’ They all whined about it constantly, and they weren’t even being asked to perform any duties around the garrison yet—it was reserved for officiates.
She’d actually yelled at Ajax once, insisting that as godkin she deserved more respect. But after being made to sleep on solid cold ground near the courtyard for a night, she hadn’t made that mistake again.
The tavern’s front door opened, and Talon soundlessly prowled inside. Like that, the atmosphere changed. Became charged. It always did whenever he entered a room.
People straightened. Perked up. Relaxed. Waited for his attention to settle on them.
It was like his presence filled the air with a sense of expectation. The force of his presence was just that powerful.
His gaze began to run along the space, so I looked away fast before our eyes could clash.
It happened sometimes. Either because I was caught trying to subtly ogle him, or because he was monitoring me—and it was monitoring; his gazes were only ever objective and assessing—on behalf of the Sovereigns.
Though I was used to being stared at, I found being under Talon’s scrutiny uncomfortable. Why? Because, regardless of his disinterest, my body still thought that having his attention was wonderful. It did lots of fluttering and tingling.
I went straight to the bar, which was currently manned by a Delphiae officiate. Silver goblets lined shelves behind the bar while tankards hung on pegs above it.
The barmaid arched a brow. “What’re you having?”
“Mead, please,” I replied.