Chapter 10 #2
Then, without warning, their training had stopped when the vampire wars reignited. Humans and magicless fae alike had been conscripted after vampires breached Cielore’s defenses for the first time in decades.
Blake had been called to the front lines, deemed expendable by the Consortium.
Weeks later, she’d received a crumpled parchment, ink scrawled in short, uneven strokes, the edges worn and frayed as if clenched too many times: Keep going . I don’t want to come back to find out you’ve been slacking. Take care of yourself.
But he never came back.
She’d learned the truth of his fate, as so many others did, standing frozen in the main square of the human district, staring at the list of the fallen. His name was inked in stark finality: killed in action by a vampire. No warning. No goodbye.
Alaire honored Blake the only way that mattered—by keeping her promise and never letting anyone take advantage of her weaknesses. Someday, she would pay his kindness forward. Someday, his sacrifice would mean something.
The memory faded as Kaia’s voice pulled her back to the present.
“Trying to show us up,” she drawled just as Alaire let her final arrow fly.
It split the first arrow down the middle, a perfect shot that sent a genuine smile flickering across her face.
“It’s not that hard.”
“Ouch,” Kaia teased from across the field on the corked flooring near the balancing equipment.
Four quadrants divided the Crux: a field with archery targets; a climbing wall and tools for bodyweight training; cushioned mats for sparring along with the weapons wall; and an area with vaults, bars, balance beams, rings, and a pommel horse.
Encircling all of it was a track they were expected to run at the beginning and conclusion of each class.
Professor Hawthorne, an air elemental, retracted the egg-shaped skylight to dissipate some of the heat in the room. The clashing of blades, grunts of exertion, and pounding of flesh echoed off the walls.
“I think this is my favorite class.” Kaia grinned, watching a powerful figure twist sharply through two perfect rotations. Mid-air, the movements were graceful and poetic: legs tight, arms guiding the rotation before landing firmly with a slight knee bend to absorb the momentum.
The red-haired fae spread his arms wide in a T-shape after his magnificent landing and angled his head to get a better look at them.
“Did you just complete a double twist off the beam?” Kaia shrieked.
“Mhm,” was his only response. His floppy red hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat.
“Impressive.” Kaia was practically drooling.
“Thanks,” he added curtly. His hazel eyes darted between the females, widening slightly. “Rumor has it you’ve both been paired with Aeris Academy’s most powerful vets.”
“If by partnered you mean forced to work with them under a level of mutual disdain, then sure,” Kaia replied, interest sparking in her eyes.
“I can see the intrigue.” He lifted his chin, a lock of hair falling into his eyes, highlighting the freckles that dusted his nose and curled up to the end of his eyelashes.
“I’m Kaia, and this is Alaire.” She gestured toward Alaire, who was eyeing him skeptically.
“I’m Archer. And before you ask, I’m terrible at archery. But I can vault, tuck, and roll like nobody’s business.”
“Archery’s an outdated skill anyway.”
Alaire shot Kaia a what-the-heck look.
“See you ladies around,” he said, giving them a polite smile before walking to the opposite side of the Crux.
“Kaia, where did you just go?”
Kaia fanned the heat creeping up her neck. “Honestly, I can’t tell you. I’ve never been that tongue-tied in front of a male. Ever. What a thing of beauty.”
“I don’t see the appeal.” Alaire frowned.
“Were we not staring at the same person?”
“Last time I checked, we were.”
“Whatever. He’s mine.”
Alaire threw an arm over her eyes. “Oh, how will I go on?”
Kaia shoved her playfully onto the cork floor. Alaire stumbled forward, catching herself before she hit the ground.
“Shit, sorry. My bad.” Kaia extended a hand to help her up. Alaire reached up and, with all her might, tugged her down until she was sprawled on the floor beside her.
“You’re an ass!” Kaia gasped while brushing disarrayed curls from her eyes.
Alaire wrapped her hands around her stomach to stop the laughs racking her body. Neither of them could keep it together.
“He’s”—Kaia hiccupped—“so. Beautiful.”
“Double twist” was all Alaire could make out before erupting into giggles that sent tears streaming down her face. Her chest heaved as she wiped the water from her eyes.
“Great use of class time, ladies.” Professor Hawthorne’s voice cut through the haze. “If you’ve already practiced enough for today, let’s test some of those techniques, shall we?”
Alaire and Kaia jumped to attention, smothering a sigh. Figures—the one moment she had some fun, and they got called out for it.
“Yes, sir,” they said in unison.
Professor Hawthorne pointed to Alaire and then at Hunter, one of the novices who followed Caius and Dawson around. “On the mat.”
Great .
Taller than her, with arms the size of cannons, he looked like he could pick her up and throw her out of the oval skylight.
Bigger doesn’t mean better , she reminded herself.
Using his size against him, he undoubtedly relied on his intimidating form to win fights.
She’d have to use her creativity. Alaire couldn’t let him pin her down.
Her only option was to be quick on her feet and evade his blows. Defense would be her best offense.
Alaire moved to the opposite end of the mat. Her pulse raced wildly, echoing in her ears.
“Smash him to smithereens,” Kaia called in support behind her. “He’s a big brute with no brains. Use yours.”
“Alaire Aerendyl.” Hunter bared his teeth and chomped at the empty air. Brute, indeed. He looked at her as if she were an annoying midge he was determined to squish. “Another worthless human.”
“How original. Tell me something I haven’t heard.” They circled each other, neither making the first move.
“How will you feel once everyone talks about how a female defeated you? A human female, no less?” Alaire wasn’t done pressing the anger seething behind his eyes.
“That will never happen.”
“Look around. It’s what everyone is thinking.”
“No. It’s. Not!” he roared, charging forward.
Alaire shifted her weight to the balls of her feet. For all his muscle, Hunter was fast—faster than she expected. He threw a punch fueled by deep-seated rage. Anger gave him strength, but it also cost him precision.
A shot connected with her back near her kidneys, sending a sharp sting through her body.
Alaire gritted her teeth, not particularly fond of being hit, but it allowed her to study him—the twitch in his shoulder before each strike, the narrowing of his eyes before he moved.
Blake’s voice echoed in her mind: Find their patterns. Everyone has them.
When his shoulder twitched again, Alaire shifted left as his punch went wide and drove her fist into his exposed side. His confident smirk faltered, surprise flickering across his face for a heartbeat.
“You bitch!”
“I warned you.”
Anticipate, evade, counter , she repeated to herself like a mantra. Her counterattacks were strategic, aimed at wearing down his stamina. She kept moving, never staying still long enough to give him an opening.
But she wasn’t fighting a human. Hunter had the speed, stamina, and precision of another species entirely. A powerful kick to her shin and jab to her rotator cuff neutralized each of her attacks. He fought with the ease of someone who knew he held every physical advantage.
Still, Alaire landed another hit square in his face, catching him off guard. A solid connection elicited a grunt of pain as blood faceted from his nose, splattering across her.
She scooted back on the mat, fists raised. When Hunter’s eyes met hers, she gave him a wink.
And then her breath seized.
A familiar tightness wrapped around her lungs. Each inhalation came shallower than the last. Her focus faltered, panic rippling through her as her body launched its sudden, traitorous rebellion.
Not now. Not here.
Alaire ignored the burning in her chest, forcing herself to throw another punch, but her movements were sluggish. Her aim was off. Her lungs screamed for air, each breath sharp and desperate.
Hunter’s next strike connected with her ribs, squeezing the remaining air from her lungs. The edges of her vision blurred. Panic clawed at her mind, her body’s demand for oxygen overriding all else.
From somewhere far off, Dawson’s voice erupted, deadly and furious. “Enough!” His shout was swallowed by the rapid beating of her heart. She wanted to respond, to tell him she could handle this, but her knees buckled.
Only then did she remember the breathbind reliquary.
Another voice, Professor Hawthorne’s, cut through the chaos, sharp and urgent: “Aerendyl, to the soulwarden now!” The words swam in and out of reach, indistinguishable echoes bouncing off a cavern. Her mouth opened, but no sound came.
And then she felt him.
Frosted evergreen and salted wind enveloped her as strong arms lifted her from the mat.
Alaire fought to keep her body rigid but couldn’t.
She wilted against him as Dawson’s grip steadied her, solid and unyielding.
“I’ve got you,” he murmured in her ear, the raw fury from moments ago replaced by a gentleness she couldn’t reconcile.
His arms, corded with tension, cradled her like she might shatter.
“I’ve got her,” he said, his tone brooking no argument. She wanted to tell him to let go, to say she didn’t need his help—that she hated him. But her treacherous body only relaxed further into him.
“I’m fine,” Alaire whispered, the words barely audible as her head lolled against his shoulder.
He ignored her—of course. Alaire tried to focus on Dawson: his jaw set, silence deliberate, as if he wouldn’t dignify her denial with a response. Yet there was no mockery, no disdain. Only quiet purpose.
It made her chest ache for an entirely different reason.
The halls blurred as he carried her through winding corridors, her awareness flickering in and out. Her senses stayed attuned to him: the steady beat of his heart beneath her cheek, a rhythmic anchor amid the panic.
“Dawson,” she rasped.
His arms tightened around her, quieting her without words. For once, she didn’t have the strength to argue.
Alaire closed her eyes. Whatever walls existed between them felt paper-thin against this unfamiliar tenderness. She wanted to hate him for it. It was so much easier. Safer.
It was her last thought before her body surrendered to the haze.