Chapter 9
For a moment I stood still, blinking as light flooded my vision. The midday sun struck hard against my skin after the dim corridors. I squinted as my eyes adjusted.
Tall wooden poles ringed the space to the left, their surfaces bearing the scars of countless metal blades. To the right stood a series of large enclosures, their fences thick, sunk deep into the ground. The bars were gouged from years of use.
My breath caught at the sight of the sabers. Every enclosure housed one. I’d never seen them so massive. They paced within their cages—some pale as bone, others striped, spotted, and one as dark as shadow. They tracked every movement, tails lashing in agitation.
All colors. All sizes. All lethal.
There were no warriors in sight. Relief slipped through me.
I wasn’t ready to feel that pull again. But it didn’t last. At my feet, the sand was riddled with dark red stains, soaked too deep to ever be washed away.
Not like last night. There, it had been scrubbed away by servants on their knees. Here, it was left to sink in.
Laughter rang out beside me, pulling me back. A small circle of Bondwards stood near a water trough and a few benches in the shade, deep in conversation. They looked composed, at ease in a way that told me they’d learned to stand here without flinching—even after what had happened last night.
I straightened and walked toward them, refusing to hesitate.
Jorius noticed me first. Even dressed in the same slate-gray Bondward leathers as everyone else, he somehow stood apart. His wavy blond hair, braided back from one side of his head, caught the sun as he broke into a wide grin.
“There you are,” he said, stepping forward as if we were meeting in a market square rather than among beasts bred to kill. Several women looked up as he stepped toward me, their expressions following him with blatant interest. “I was starting to think they’d lost you in the library,” he teased.
I grinned. “Hardly. Though I might have preferred it.”
He laughed, leaning closer. “The first time always feels worse than it is. We’ve all met Archivist Teralis. She’s there to strike fear into our hearts before we start working.” He winked. “You seem sufficiently terrorized.”
“Aren’t you? After last night?” I asked, arching a brow.
“Hmm. I suppose I’m used to the violence. I try to forget things that sour my mood. Life is more fun that way.”
“Aren’t you afraid that you’re next?”
“Oh, sure I am,” he said cheerfully. “Give it a moment. The fear settles into something manageable. Usually dread.”
A huff of amusement escaped me. Nothing seemed capable of rattling him.
He gestured subtly toward the others. “Just stand with us. Watch and try to breathe. No one expects anything from you yet.”
Yet . So much for reassurance.
I took my place beside him. Most of the Bondwards greeted me, and I answered in kind.
None were familiar, and Cassius was nowhere to be seen.
Lucina broke away from the circle the moment I arrived and stalked toward the back of the courtyard, stopping near the gates.
Her gaze flicked toward us now and then before returning to her small group—Mira, the one with the short blonde curls, and Iris with long black hair, as Livia had told me earlier.
“Hi there, we haven’t met yet.” The man beside Jorius held out his hand. He was tall, powerfully built, with dark skin and thick jet-black locs pulled back from his face. His voice was deep and warm. I took his hand, giving it a tentative shake.
“The name’s Tavin. My sister and I have been here for a couple of years.” He gestured to the woman beside him.
“Pleasure to meet you, I’m Talia.” She resembled him so closely that my eyes flicked between them in surprise, pausing on the mirrored placement of their piercings.
Yet where his ebony locs were gathered low into a leather tie at his back, hers were pulled tightly away from her face into a high tail.
They laughed at my reaction. “We’re twins,” Talia added. “He’s the pretty one. I’m the smart one.” She winked before her brother nudged her shoulder.
“She grows on you. If she bothers you, tell me and I’ll keep her off your hands,” he said with a smirk as Talia scowled at him.
I shook my head, amused by their easy exchange, though something in me ached at the realization that I’d never have a bond like that.
They resumed their conversation, voices lowering as they spoke of Nexra’s murder and the interrogation they’d all faced the night before.
No one had any idea who could have killed her.
Talia suggested that perhaps one of the warriors had broken free and killed Nexra after she refused his advances.
That seemed unlikely, given the guards stationed throughout the grounds and the heavy lock separating the holding cells from our wing.
Her brother remained silent, listening, before telling us it would do no good to speculate and that it was best left to Marcus. His smile lingered, faintly strained. Jorius agreed. They were probably right. The guards would find out who did it. Hopefully they already had.
The gates at the back of the grounds creaked open, and conversation fell silent. The sabers stilled, their pacing slowing as if they recognized the signal. Jorius straightened beside me. The easy humor drained from his face, replaced by focus.
“That’ll be the warriors,” he said. “They’ve just returned from the Ludaryn forest. They run drills before the sun rises—every morning.”
Figures emerged through the gates, broad-shouldered and moving with the unhurried confidence of men fresh from their morning run.
A sheen of sweat glistened on their skin, their breathing steady despite the exertion.
Guards sealed the gates behind them before taking their posts. The sabers reacted at once.
Growls rumbled low as their massive heads lifted, ears pricking forward. Some pressed against the bars, their muscles tense as if eager to be unleashed. Others merely watched, their eyes bright with recognition.
The warriors moved toward them with purpose—at least twenty of them.
So far, I only recognized Rhenik Varros.
His pale skin and short black curls stood in sharp contrast to Jorius, yet Jorius had been right.
They were alike, not in appearance but in the way Rhenik swaggered across the sand, as if nothing in the world could touch him.
The Bondwards beside us hurried to meet them, nearly running across the grounds.
One saber in particular stood out to me. Green eyes, narrowed and calculating, swept the others. It paced its enclosure with restless intensity, its fur black as night, seemingly swallowing the light.
I stepped forward before I could stop myself, drawn toward it. It observed rather than reacted and moved with a confidence that set it apart—intelligent, restrained, and unmistakably lethal.
“That’s Kharos you’re ogling. It’s no use trying to get close to him. He’s only just accepted Cassius, and they’ve been bonded for over a month.” Jorius whispered at my side.
A frown creased my brow. Kharos was Thanor’s saber. I stilled.
Every enclosure was now occupied, Bondwards and warriors attending their sabers. I felt suddenly lost, unsure what to do when even Jorius gave me a quick wave before moving to join Rhenik. Before I could retreat to the shade, another stillness rippled through the courtyard.
The warriors straightened, their attention shifting to the central ring as if pulled by an unseen force. The sabers quieted as well, their heads lifting in unison as a man stepped into the middle.
His presence was undeniable, reminding me of Karvus Drask. The man was tall, his posture straight despite a stiffness in his stride. His armor seemed older than the others’, and in his left hand he carried a whip. He stopped and surveyed the courtyard with a calm precision.
I ran toward Jorius, who stood casually beside Rhenik. The man’s gaze followed me, and embarrassment prickled beneath my skin. Jorius leaned closer, amusement threading his voice as he took in my flush. “That’s Gaius, the Doctore.”
I kept my voice low. “That’s one intimidating man.”
“He was a warrior once. One of the best. The Maw nearly killed him. After he lost his saber and his magic, they made him Doctore instead. The warriors listen to him because he’s earned it. Never underestimate or disobey him. No one here does.”
Gaius faced the Bondwards, assessing them only briefly before returning to the warriors.
“Don’t just stand there! Pair up!” he barked. “Warriors, work the poles! Bondwards to your sabers. Assess their posture. Catalogue their injuries. Do it fast and do it well. Begin!”
He raised his whip. The crack split the air, and I flinched.
Rhenik broke away, running for the poles without question. The grounds surged into motion around me.
The truth of Jorius’s words hit home. This man didn’t command respect because of his title. He commanded it because he’d survived what the others were still training to face.
Gaius’s attention shifted—then fixed on me.
“You.”
The single word carved through the noise like a blade.
I stiffened as he pinned me in place. He lifted a hand and crooked a finger. “Come here.”
Every instinct told me to hesitate. I ignored it and stepped forward, the open ground suddenly feeling too exposed beneath my feet.
The warriors slowed, turning to watch with open curiosity. My hands curled into fists. So much for going unnoticed.
Gaius watched me as I approached, his expression composed but severe. He towered over me.
“Today, you observe,” he said. “You do not interfere. You do not offer counsel unless asked. You watch and you learn.”
“Yes, Doctore.”
“You will shadow Cassius. And the saber Kharos. Vayren Thanor’s pairing.”
My breath caught before I could stop it. I closed my eyes for a beat. Of course Lunara would bring this upon me. Just my luck.
He gestured toward the far end of the grounds. “Kharos’s enclosure is at the back. Vayren and Cassius have been away this morning. They will meet you there shortly.”