Chapter 20 #2
In the hallway, Caius lingered with his head bowed, hands still clenched.
When Kaia appeared, he looked up. Whether she didn’t see him or deliberately ignored him, Alaire couldn’t tell.
But she caught the flicker of emotions that crossed his face—pain, regret, maybe even guilt—before he vanished into the crowd.
She almost felt sorry for him.
The Crux buzzed with energy. Arrows thudded into targets, sparring students exchanged grunts and sharp cries, and above it all, Professor Hawthorne’s booming voice cut through the noise with commands and corrections.
His gaze swept over the room, pausing on Kaia and Alaire as they approached. “You’re both late,” he barked, his voice carrying easily over the clamor. “You’re next up on the mats. Move it.”
Kaia had forgotten her things for their next class and had to double back to the dining hall. Now Professor Hawthorne was going to make them pay for it.
Alaire groaned, shooting Kaia a sidelong glance. “Oh joy.”
Kaia opened her mouth to respond, but her words were drowned out by the sharp, deliberate sound of slow clapping cutting through the training hall.
“Still content watching from the sidelines, or do you plan on proving you belong here?”
Alaire stiffened, her gaze snapping toward the source. Caius leaned against the weapons rack, arms folded, a smirk on his lips. He cracked his knuckles—he looked riled up.
The nearby students fell silent, sensing the tension hanging in the air like a guillotine about to drop.
Of course, after their fight, she’d be the target of his ire.
“What’s your problem, Caius?” Alaire shot back. “Bored of picking on someone your own size? Or do you have nothing better to do than watch us novices train?”
“My problem?” His lips curled into a cold smile. “My problem is that you’re here at all. It’s ludicrous.”
“It’s ludicrous that I bonded a phoenix?” She shook her head. Kaia shifted uneasily beside her, but Alaire ignored her, stepping forward. “I’m not going anywhere anytime soon. So, what is it you want?” She tilted her head. “To keep glaring at me from the corner?”
“Let’s see if you can back up that mouth of yours,” Caius said, pushing off the wall. His challenge hung in the air. “Show me—and everyone else—you’re worthy of that phoenix.”
Alaire’s molars ground together. She could feel the curiosity and doubt of the other students pressing in.
She wouldn’t give them—or Caius—the satisfaction of hesitation.
Since arriving at Aeris Academy, her strength had returned with regular meals and consistent training. Even without magic, she stood a chance.
Caius was one of the academy’s top fighters, and everyone knew it. Alaire was underestimated.
Time to prove them wrong.
“If you’re so eager to lose, I’m happy to oblige,” she quipped, turning toward Professor Hawthorne with a nod. She was more than ready to wipe that smug smirk off his face.
“Alaire, Caius—to the mats.” He gestured toward the far corner. “Pick a weapon from the wall. First to get the other to yield or draw blood is the victor,” he instructed. “Bows and arrows aren’t permitted in hand-to-hand combat, Vale.”
While everyone was distracted by Caius’s choice of weapon, Alaire took a measured inhalation from her breathbind reliquary. Nothing was going to stop her from giving this fight everything she had.
“She shouldn’t have to fight a vet,” Kaia started. “It’s not?—”
“This is my class, Ms. Moore. It will be good for Ms. Vallorian to see some moves from a more seasoned student.”
The type of weapon someone wielded, Blake always said, often revealed how they fought. Caius chose a greatsword with a green stone set in its hilt—flashy, but offering no room for finesse, only pure wrath.
Alaire selected twin blades: sharp, lethal, cunning.
She swaggered to the mats. Caius was already there, pinning her with his glare. Around them, the other novices formed a tight ring. Like sharks, they smelled blood in the water. It was only a matter of whose it would be.
Caius, towering and broad, flashed a feral grin.
Alaire couldn’t help but picture the way he’d looked outside the dining hall.
Was this his way of getting back at Kaia?
She offered him a mocking curtsy.
“Begin,” Hawthorne announced.
“Shall we?” She figured he would take the first swipe, but maybe he needed some prodding.
Caius’s only response was a sneer as he lunged forward, greatsword swinging in a wide arc.
Or not.
Alaire sidestepped easily, her small frame spinning nimbly out of the sword’s path. The crowd murmured.
“You’ll have to be faster than that,” she taunted, flashing Caius a wicked smile.
He growled, his face flushing deep red, and attacked again—more measured this time as he anticipated her dodges. But something was off.
His swings were sloppy, lacking finesse. These weren’t the calculated strikes of a veteran; this was an aggressive male lashing out.
Perfect .
Alaire deflected his blows, her daggers crisscrossing to absorb the power of his strikes. Each impact sent vibrations up her arms, proof of his strength, even if he was off his game.
She stepped back, breaths quick but controlled, mind racing through her options. Ending this quickly was paramount; any prolonged effort against brute strength would only wear her down. When Caius raised his sword for another heavy blow, she saw her opening.
His moves were all aggression.
She ducked low, rolled across the mats, and sprang to her feet. Her left blade aimed for a vulnerable spot, slicing a shallow but precise cut that drew a thin line of blood. He swung in retaliation, but his greatsword whistled harmlessly past her shoulder.
“Looks like you’re dripping,” she chirped, glancing toward Professor Hawthorne. “First blood was drawn. Shouldn’t this be?—”
The look cost her. Caius yanked her braid, dragging her back as the tip of his sword pressed against her neck hard enough to draw a bead of blood.
His rage was personal.
Alaire went limp in his grip, letting him think he’d won, then twisted sharply, driving her elbow into his ribs. The impact loosened his hold just enough for her to duck under his arm and retreat.
“Cheat shot,” he rasped, rubbing his side.
“Effective shot,” she corrected.
His training finally began to override his emotional sloppiness, but the wrath of being bested—especially by a half- human female—fueled his movements. He swung again. She pivoted, avoiding the blade, though it sliced through her leathers without drawing blood.
She kept her daggers leveled at him, sprinting forward. His eyes widened as she slid through the space between his legs, tapping him lightly on the back with the flat of her blade.
Relishing the move, she didn’t see the blunt edge of his sword connect with her knee until she crashed to the mats, one dagger skidding away.
Rookie mistake .
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Kaia retrieve the blade and move toward the mat’s edge.
“Ms. Moore, there’s to be no interference,” Hawthorne said, eyes fixed forward.
“She’s bleeding. The fight should be over,” Kaia shot back, pacing the sideline.
“My classroom. My rules.”
Caius’s gaze snapped to Kaia. For a split second, his guard dropped completely, confusion—and something else, hurt?—flickering across his face.
Alaire seized the opening, hooking her foot behind his leg and shoving him backward. Off balance, he crashed to the mats with a grunt, the sound echoing across the room.
Before he could retaliate, her dagger was at his throat.
They stared at each other. Pride and anger warred in his eyes.
“Do you yield, or shall we continue?” she asked.
His glance flicked to the crowd, and she didn’t have to look to know whose eyes he sought.
“I yield,” he spat, turning away from the blade. “But don’t think for a second this is over.”
“Said every man who’s ever been bested by a woman,” she muttered, stepping back and letting her daggers fall to the mat. She offered a hand; he ignored it, rising on his own.
The crowd murmured, their earlier amusement now tinged with surprise. Caius stalked away, pride bruised.
“Well done,” Professor Hawthorne remarked, his gaze appraising.
Alaire wiped the sweat from her brow with her forearm. “Thanks. Though I thought this was supposed to end when first blood was drawn?”
His lips curved into a grin. “True. But I, along with everyone else, was curious to see how you’d fare against a high-ranking fae male without using magic. You didn’t disappoint.”
She crossed her arms. “It’s not the first time I’ve had to defend myself against a brute of a fae. But I’m not here to be used as an experiment. I’m a student, just like anyone else, and I expect to be treated as such. I can’t learn if I’m only here to prove a point.”
Alaire expected a reprimand for speaking out of turn. Instead, Hawthorne’s grin stretched, feral.
“She’s got teeth. Good. A little lamb wouldn’t survive in a den full of wolves. There may be hope for you yet.” With that, he strode away, already calling the next pair to the mats.
As the crowd dispersed, Kaia approached. “Are you okay?”
Alaire waved her off with a resigned smile. “I’ve had worse. Let’s go.”