Chapter 5
Five
Salvatore
Professor Kwong paces one end of the gymnasium. He’s not the most impressive guy to look at: half a foot shorter than my six-foot-two and much less bulked out. But you can tell from the way he holds himself that you’d be an idiot to mess with him.
I mean, I could take him, but it wouldn’t be a walk in the park.
So it’s a good thing he’s here to teach all of Luminary Academy how not to get their asses handed to them.
His firm voice reverberates off the high ceiling in a lecture he’s given enough times I could chant along with him if I was looking for a beating after all.
“It’s important to train in pure physical combat as well as incorporating your magic.
We need to make the most of all our possible strengths, not just our lucent powers.
You never know what tool in your toolbox might come in handy when your life is on the line. ”
“Also, throwing each other down is fun,” I toss out when he pauses, to chuckles and giggles from several of my classmates.
The laughter has a nervous edge to it. Anywhere I go in the academy, it feels like every other student in the room is braced for me to explode.
Good. I like keeping the puffed-up idiots on their toes.
Kwong narrows his eyes at me, but I can tell he’s suppressing a smile. Of course he is. I’m his best student. The guy has to adore me.
“If you can find entertainment value in it, I’m happy to see you commit that much more enthusiastically to your studies,” he says wryly.
Then his tone darkens. “As Luminary graduates, you won’t be on the front lines against the voids like your peers from Beacon.
You still have to do us and yourselves proud if you’re called on in an emergency.
And the lucent community may face other threats that’ll require a forceful response. ”
I’m not sure what sorts of problems the fancy fuckers around me would be dealing with using violence. Most of them wince when they get a smudge on their gloves. But what he’s saying is certainly true for me.
I’d rather be out there exterminating the vicious but mindless void creatures that pop up here and there throughout the world than tangling with most of the pricks my families piss off. Not that I get a choice in the matter.
After another reminder that we’re not allowed to add any magic to the mix, Kwong pairs us off. I find myself across from tiny Mia Somerset, who looks at me and appears to swallow her tongue.
Her twin, what’s her name—Madison—has enough punch in her identical scrawny body to have earned a spot in the Cutting Flame, the combat club I rule. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Mia land a strike that could knock out a fly. She should pick up some tips from her sis.
I grin and crack my knuckles through my leather gloves. “Don’t worry. I’ll only bash you around a little.”
Mia’s face turns even paler, but she’s still got her tongue. “Because it’s fun?”
“Ah, more fun if the other person can keep up.”
Since Mia can’t, I only need to keep about half my attention on our sparring to stop Kwong from getting on my case about slacking off. The familiar soundtrack of thuds and grunts fills the room, alongside the rising tang of sweat.
I fall into the easy rhythm—feet pushing off the mat, muscles flexing—and my gaze veers from my hopeless opponent to evaluate the other forces in the room.
The last thing I expect is for the other half of my attention to snag on the academy’s queen bee.
Elodie Devine is facing off against Heath Ridley a few mats over from us.
He’s a pretty good fighter, both physically and magically—he got an invite to the Cutting Flame a couple of years back.
The rich bitches like her usually put in a little effort so they don’t screw up their grades, but I’ve seen him knock her flat in thirty seconds before.
Not this time. Elodie Fucking Devine is meeting him blow for blow.
Her dark hair swishes in the ponytail she’s tied it back in, a few stray bits sticking to her dampening forehead.
Her greenish eyes that I’ve always thought look kind of murky gleam with a keen intensity that’s totally unfamiliar on her poshly pretty face.
What the hell’s gotten into her today?
She deflects a punch I can tell Heath didn’t hold back with and doesn’t even stumble. Her fist finds a brief opening and smacks into his ribs so fast the strike lands before he can block it.
Has she been holding back all this time? Maybe she’s gotten a bunch of intensive tutoring in the past few weeks?
She looks totally confident in her moves, like she’s been doing this for years. It doesn’t make any sense.
Irritation starts to itch beneath my skin. It’d be just perfect if the Devine princess leveled up her combat marks, wouldn’t it? My grades in that area are one of the few factors keeping me in the top three.
Lord knows both of my families already hassle me enough about failing to nab the very top spot in the rankings. About letting a pampered princess like her get in my way.
Kwong stops to praise her form a couple of times, looking a bit surprised himself. Seeing that only sets my jaw more on edge.
I swing hard and accidentally clock Mia all the way onto her back with her hands clutched around her head.
She scrambles up before Kwong reaches us but wobbles on her feet.
“You need to see a nurse, Somerset?” he asks her without any sign of concern. About fifty percent of the student health center’s job is to deal with sparring injuries.
“No, no, I’m good,” she mumbles.
His gaze slides to me, sharpening. He doesn’t care how much we batter and bruise each other, but he’s a big believer in matching your strength to the needs of the fight. “Control as well as power, Cosgrave. No point in overworking yourself.”
“I know,” I growl.
“Then show it.” He claps his hands. “Let’s switch up.”
I get to scrap with Heath for a little while, a somewhat more interesting challenge. Not enough of one that my gaze doesn’t keep twitching back to Elodie every couple of minutes, though.
Seriously, where the fuck did she learn to throw a fist like that?
Heath tries to take advantage of one of my moments of distraction to go for a headlock. I whip away from him, baring my teeth. Time to teach this prick a lesson, with enough power and control that Kwong can’t complain.
I throw myself into the fight harder, faster. My muscles fill with the heady burn of exertion.
I catch Heath’s arm, wrench it behind his back, and jerk my hold with just enough force for the crack of a snapping bone to carry through the room.
Heath crumples to his knees, swearing under his breath. Kwong glances over and nods. “Get yourself to the health center, Ridley.”
Maybe our professor has noticed my interest in a particular classmate, because when he switches us around again, he sends “Miss Devine” over to me.
Taking down Heath left me energized. I smack my gloved hands together. “Ready to be pummeled, donnicciola?”
Elodie cocks her head with a swish of her ponytail. Her tone is as snotty as always. “I should ask you the same thing.”
Oh, this bitch is looking to get flattened, all right. And it is going to be fun.
I laugh and lunge at her without further warning, swinging fast and furious. I’m fantastic when I can pull the ephemera around me into the fray, but I’m blazing good even without magic. I’ve won every sparring match I’ve entered in the past five years.
So I should crush her in an instant. It’s not like she’s giving back as hard as she’s getting. But somehow…
Somehow she stays on her feet, deflecting and dodging my strikes, breathing hard but not breaking.
I throw out a different sort of jab. “I didn’t take you for a cheat. How much magic are you throwing into the fight, huh, málóid?”
At home, I save my Irish insults for my Italian relatives and my Italian for the Irish. Because if they’re never going to let me forget I don’t really belong on either side, then I can sure as hell lean into their fuckery. Also, it irritates them more if they don’t know what I’m calling them.
At school, I see no reason to limit myself. None of the teachers understand either language.
Elodie’s focused expression doesn’t so much as twitch. “I didn’t take you for a drab. Unless you’ve gone void-headed, you know I haven’t drawn anything.”
The cat’s showing her claws today. She’s right, annoying as it is. Because I’m not a drab, I’d be able to sense if any magical energy was flowing into her.
Unless she’s being really fucking subtle about it. Who knows what techniques the rich pricks have come up with?
I twist to avoid a sudden heel kick and heave an uppercut that should toss her head backward but bounces off her retreating forearm instead. “Just that desperate to get back to number one, then? Sucking off all the staff isn’t cutting it anymore?”
The Elodie I think I remember would have hissed with rage or clutched her metaphorical pearls in horror at the suggestion. Today, she… grins?
With a snort, she flings forward a few quick punches and actually forces me to back up a step. “You must be off your game if you’re trying to hit that far below the belt.”
Okay, now I really can’t figure out what this girl is on. Maybe she’s literally on something? Mixing magic with narcotics is a hobby at all levels of lucent society.
I should know, given that both of my families are involved in the business.
There is something a little off, I’m realizing.
Elodie isn’t meeting my eyes, even when she’s snarking back at me.
Her gaze stays fixed below my chin. Which I guess is fair, considering it’s my fists and feet coming at her, not my head, but the feeling starts to creep over me that she’s purposefully avoiding eye contact.
Trying to work her out when she’s right in front of me is more distracting than glancing at her from a distance.
I do get in a knee to her hip that makes her grunt, and then I catch her wrist with enough force to jerk it toward her back.
But before I can pull off the same maneuver I used on Heath, her other fist is slamming toward my nose.
I react fast enough that she whacks my jaw rather than breaking my nose, which is good because I don’t need it more crooked than it’s been since the last bad blow I took here at thirteen.
The jaw smack is still not a great experience, though.
The impact sends a jolt of pain stabbing down through the wonky nerves in my neck.
My nerve damage acts up enough that I know I’m good at hiding it. Without so much as a wince, I absorb the pain and manage to get in another swing at Elodie even as she snaps my hold.
So it makes no sense at all that she draws back a couple of steps with a flicker of what I’d swear is worry tensing her expression. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
“I’m fine,” I snap, with a wide, fierce smile to show how much I mean it, and she shuts up. “You’ll have to hit me harder than that to make a dent, stronza.”
Before she can respond, Kwong’s voice rings through the training room. “Time to cool down!”
Elodie stalks away before his words have even faded from the air. I can’t help staring after her, my hands still clenched into fists.
Why the fuck was she apologizing to me? What was she going to say she didn’t mean to do?
There’s no way in hell she could know how much that punch actually hurt me. Unless I was so distracted I gave something away?
No. Not possible.
She’s just trying a new tactic to get under my skin, to solidify her spot at the top. That’s how all the assholes at this school operate.
It’s not going to work. And I can play a different game too.
We’ll see how long it takes her to regret grabbing my attention.