Chapter 19
Chapter nineteen
The soft tinkle of metal balls clanging, followed by the brittle snap of dried reeds, pulled her attention away from the butterfly she’d been studying.
The training yard had been set up near a small oasis, ringed by date palms and scrub clinging stubbornly to life.
Their shadows rippled across the sunbaked ground, broken only by the thin, tightrope stretched over the narrow pool at the center. The water below lay still as glass.
Nearby, Fenn stood next to the anchored post, idly handling a bag of fist-sized metallic balls strapped to his hip.
“I almost made it that time!” Bran, previously flat on his back, pushed himself to his feet the moment Fenn’s shadow loomed over him, eyes darting between his unit mates and their Guide as if waiting for a reprimand.
Even Taren, usually composed, straightened slightly, though he tried to mask it beneath his nonchalant demeanor.
Fenn barely glanced up from his notebook, the faintest twitch of his hand signaling to the group to continue. Despite his outward indifference, Rynna knew that he’d already mapped every one of their movements with precise clarity.
She wondered if it was the same notebook he had been scribbling in the night they ‘met,’ before they’d…Rynna shook her head. Don't go there. It was just a one-night stand. It was a mistake, and that’s all it will ever be.
Either way, the man hadn’t said a single word directly to her since then.
Not when he gave them instructions for where to meet, not when he greeted them that morning, and certainly not during his vague explanation of the test that would, apparently, decide if they advanced to actual assignments.
To be fair, he hadn’t answered Bran’s thousand questions or Elara’s scattered yelps of dismay, either.
Just cross the pond? It should have been easy.
Fools, Rynna thought, blowing out a puff of air that sent the butterfly flitting up from her fingers.
It hovered just out of reach, wings flickering as if to say: Don’t be an asshole just because you’re mad he’s ignoring you.
Rynna frowned, watching it dance further away, leaving her to her thoughts.
Sure, Fenn’s indifference irked her, but the truth was, she was more pissed at herself for making such a boneheaded decision in the first place. What the hell had she been thinking, hooking up with some random man like that?
Whatever. She settled back on her elbows, trying to relax.
The warmth of the sun soaked into her skin as she started counting clouds to pass the time.
Somewhere behind her, a grunt or splash of water would break the quiet now and then—another poor soul getting tossed across the training yard or falling off the rope in a failed attempt to cross the narrow strand of rope while Fenn threw those metal balls like cannon shots.
Just as she hit cloud number thirteen, a sudden shadow blocked the sunlight, a coolness brushing over her skin. Her eyes narrowed in response, muscles tensing with annoyance.
“Do you think this is a joke?” A man’s voice cut through the quiet. “Do you think you’re too good for this exercise? Or that you’ll automatically pass because...because...”
Rynna scrunched her nose, her tone flat. “Because you fucked me above the Great Phoenix two nights ago?”
“Damn it, girl!” His voice was strained. “If I’d known you were a trainee or...or how old you are, that never would’ve happened.”
She cracked one eye open, raising an eyebrow. How old was he anyway? He couldn’t be much past thirty.
Smiling to herself, she thought, he looks like he might throw that stupid notebook at me.
“You’re skilled. That was clear enough,” he continued, his voice tight.
Both her eyebrows shot up higher, and her grin widened.
“At fighting!”
“Mmm hmmm.” She couldn’t stop herself, savoring how riled up he was getting.
“Look, Rynna.” He dropped to the ground beside her, their eyes now level.
His usual air of calm indifference was gone.
“I wasn’t lying. This—being a Unit Leader, being responsible for a group of Novices—it’s important.
They’ve never given me the opportunity before, because of…
” He raised a hand toward his clouded eye and mask. “Please don’t…”
Her eyes widened, wondering again what those teeth or the eye meant, remembering how he had paused that night.
“Don’t ruin it?” she finished for him, her tone softening. As much fun as she liked watching him squirm, she didn’t want to hurt him. She remembered the sincerity in his voice that night and the way he’d questioned if he was truly ready for this responsibility.
“Yes,” he sighed. “Something like that.”
“Look.” She sat up, letting the playfulness drop from her voice. “I’m not trying to ruin it. This is obviously a team-building exercise.”
A quick blink betrayed his surprise.
“Whether or not you actually plan to fail us, they need to figure it out on their own.”
His jaw tightened for a heartbeat, and he rubbed his chin thoughtfully between his fingers. “How’d you know?”
“Because Guide Fenn.” She smiled, the title rolling off her tongue with a hint of amusement.
“You don’t strike me as a cruel man. You care about your responsibility.
And you care about these Novices. Your test is a lie.
If one of us crosses, we all pass, or something like that.
A trust exercise was the only logical outcome. ”
“Just like that?”
“It’s not like I haven’t been around.”
“No, I suppose it’s not.” His voice dropped an octave, sending a flutter of heavy butterflies through her stomach. Damn him.
But then he snapped back, shaking his head. “That crossed a line.”
“Did it now?” she asked, caught between feeling turned on and mildly irritated.
“Yeah, yes,” he repeated, standing abruptly. “There’s a line now, Rynna, and we can’t cross it. I can’t cross it. It would be wrong.”
“Well, that’s no fun.” She pursed her lips in mock frustration.
“I’m serious.” His hand went up to the back of his head, fingers looping around those blood red tips like he could yank the words loose. “I tried to get the lineups changed. I even told the Ember Warden what…happened.”
“You did?” Rynna pushed herself upright, surprise flickering across her face.
“Yes.” His throat bobbed beneath the mask, voice rough. “But he didn’t—” He faltered, searching.
“Care.” Her brow arched, sharp as a blade. “He didn’t care that you’d fucked one of your supposedly much younger students.”
Of course, he hadn’t. She wasn’t actually eighteen or even a trainee, but the wrinkled old bastard didn’t know that. He treated Hollow-born like tools, and Rynna had always been an outsider anyway.
“Supposedly?” Fenn shot her a glance, then shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. I care.” His gaze locked on hers. “It was wrong. I was wrong. And it won’t happen again. Is that understood?”
She swallowed, throat tight, eyes tracing the hard lines of his face as something in her shifted—small, dangerous.
“Fine.” She lifted both hands in mock surrender. “You’re the boss.”
“Rynna…”
“What!? I didn’t mean anything! I promise I’ll be on my best behavior.” She raised her hand over her chest. “Cross my heart.”
He cast her a measured look, clearly expecting another snarky or flirty comment, but when she didn’t offer one, he gave a slight nod. “At least try to cross the pond, will you? Otherwise, they’ll think you don’t care.”
Her eyes drifted to the bag of balls tied to his belt, lingering just a second too long. He’d been using them to knock the others off the rope for the last twenty minutes.
When she glanced back up, she caught the faint flush of red coloring his cheeks beneath the mask.
“Here, I’ll move them,” he mumbled, reaching for the bag, presumably to put it somewhere 'safer.'
“Too late, old man!” She darted forward, ducking under his arms toward the rope bridge.
She’d play by his rules for now, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t have some fun, too.
With a flicker of motion so fast she barely registered it, Fenn vanished, his fumbling retreat melting into a seamless, fluid attack. One moment, he was behind her; the next, he was halfway across the clearing, blocking her path.
“As if I’d fall for that twice, Novice,” he said as he pulled out his notebook again, eyes lowering to the page as though nothing had happened.
Ohhhh, I’m going to get you, asshole, Rynna thought with a grin, and without another word, she darted toward him.
She struck out with a palm, aiming for his midsection, but he sidestepped in a blur, his book still open in one hand. She pivoted, launching another kick, only to feel the rush of air as he ducked under it. His book never wavered.
You’ve got to be kidding me, she thought, and her smile stretched further across her face. She could see the small adjustments in his stance, the way his weight subtly transferred from one foot to the other, ready to move at a moment’s notice.
Rynna pressed forward again, launching a barrage of quick jabs and feints, forcing him to abandon the book as the attacks came faster. When he finally snapped it shut and tucked it away, his full attention on her, she smirked, satisfied.
Got you now, Guide Fenn.
They moved in a tight circle, her hands darting out in bursts while he blocked or dodged with an ease that made her pulse quicken. She feinted left, then surged right, trying to get past him, the flash of cold steel biting deep enough to bruise even as he twisted back between her and the pond.
Damn. Panting, Rynna bent over, sucking on air. Holding her true speed and skill in reserve while going so hard was proving more exhausting than she’d anticipated.
“You almost got past him, Rynna!” Bran shouted from across the field, sprinting toward them. “I bet if I helped distract him, you could do it, no problem!”
“You wouldn’t stand a chance, even with Rynna leading, loser,” Taren scoffed as he sauntered out from behind a tree, his usually neat hair now tousled, dark strands falling messily across his forehead.