Chapter 10
Ten
A week later, Falcrest was sitting in his usual spot at breakfast after two more ashlings were executed for not appearing for breakfast on time. That rounded the number of ashlings lost that week up to fifteen, all of them in purple, green, and yellow.
“They say the captain killed two of them himself,” Jarek announced as Lory sat down with her food-laden plate a few minutes after the bodies had been cleared off the platform at the front of the room, her stomach squeamish from the sight of so much unjustified death.
“You know, the ones who tried to escape.”
“It’s a rumor,” Brycon reminded them from the other side. “Why would anyone flee from Ashthorn when there is no comparable education in Brestolya?”
“Comparable is putting it nicely,” Thal noted with a half-grin. “None as brutal or as thorough is more like it.”
Brycon shrugged, his attention wandering to the green table where Ricca was chatting with Solen Markis.
Solen’s head was freshly shorn at the sides, and their hair was neatly braided in their usual fashion from forehead to neck.
Neither of them seemed to be mourning the loss of their fellow yellows.
“Do you think they are plotting Lory’s death again?” Tabi wanted to know between bites of scrambled eggs. “Or Frost’s?”
Frost’s eyes found Lory’s at the mention of his name, and for a moment, she felt sorry for him—then, she remembered that Anees had called him a murderer.
Over three weeks at the academy, and she barely knew anything about the young man who’d ended up here the same way she had. A criminal.
“At least, I’ve got some actual magic.” Frost bared his teeth in a grin that didn’t meet his eyes, gaze wandering from Lory to Thal and back to Lory.
“Hey, I have at least sensed water.” Thal voiced mock outrage, as surprised as the rest of the group that Frost had volunteered anything. “And when I manage to tame my endless well of power, we could work together. I make missiles out of water; you freeze them over. What do you say?”
When Frost grinned this time, it was real, even if only for a fraction of a moment.
“What about you, Lory? Any developments?” Tabi’s attention wasn’t on Lory, however, but on the platform at the front of the room, on the table to the right, under the horned and winged leonthor, where Falcrest was sipping from his cup, gaze idly drifting through the room.
“Nothing new. Not a flicker of power.” It was a small consolation that they had been allowed daggers in combat training, and she’d finally excelled in something when they were supposed to disarm an opponent in the training ring.
A moment, Lory remembered with no short amount of satisfaction, that Falcrest had witnessed, and even now, she could vividly see the hint of surprise on his features.
A street rat, yes, but she’d learned to survive long before she’d ever come to Ashthorn.
“Doesn’t matter what sort of power you have; it better show today in Dunveil’s class.” Tabi frowned at her. “He’s been waiting for a reason to eliminate more ashlings.”
Both Thal and Lory shook their heads. “Not today,” Thal announced. “We have combat training with Hand Sil, and if I have anything to say about it, I’ll end up in the infirmary so I can skip Dunveil.”
“Coward,” Jarek huffed over a slice of bread while Frost, Brycon, and Tabi stared at Thal like he’d grown a second head.
“You don’t believe they’ll let you skip Knowledge, especially when Dunveil is eager for blood.
” Lory had entertained the idea of missing Dunveil’s classes herself, but she’d come to the same conclusion every single time: If she failed, she’d die, and she wouldn’t randomly pick up on what potential powers she possessed by hiding in a dark corner.
Her best chance at survival was learning the rules, knowing them well enough to bend them—and eventually break them.
Falcrest may be able to trap her here, but there was no way he would break her.
None of them would—especially not Ricca Graccia and her group of self-righteous ashlings who had tried to kill Frost and her.
“I believe that, sometimes, a healthy stomach ache is all it takes.” The knowing grin on Thal’s face was almost credible.
Tabi studied him with a raised brow. “If you continue shoveling food into your face like that, you will get your stomach ache for sure.”
“Dunveil won’t kill you for not manifesting your powers.
” Brycon eyed them from across the table.
“At least, not yet.” When Tabi turned her brow-raised attention to him, he continued, “There are enough ashlings in the other colors who are struggling with their magic; the two of you don’t necessarily stand out that much. ”
“Not sure whether I should be relieved by that information or concerned how much you know about the other colors,” Jarek mumbled into his teacup, his reddish-brown hair shifting on his forehead.
“Concerned,” Tabi decided for him, packing up her things and getting to her feet.
Lory, Thal, and Jarek followed, the four of them making their way to the training grounds, the sight of which kept bringing back the image of Falcrest’s sweat-slicked chest and his piercing gray gaze as he’d leaped over the balcony banister.
When they arrived, Hand Sil was already flipping her dagger in her hand, her slitted eyes following the movement of the students slowly filling the yard.
“Split up into pairs, blues,” she called, not bothering to put away her blade.
They did as they were told, Tabi and Jarek teaming up, while Eira Moonfell and Thal made up a pair, the two of them standing next to each other by the side of the training area. Everyone else was already partnered with someone, leaving Frost and Lory the only two left.
They threw a cautious glance at each other, Frost’s deep blue eyes locking on Lory’s cognac-colored ones, and for a heartbeat, a sort of understanding passed between them. Two criminals brought to the academy by force. Two who chose this over death. Two who would do whatever it took to survive.
“I guess it’s us, then.” Lory didn’t try to sound pleasant.
After saving Frost’s ass, he hadn’t bothered with much of a thanks, and if he came from the streets like she did, chances were, he’d long recognized her as an equal nobody.
Only, he had some magic to make him practically invincible for her.
Honestly, the three inches and heavy muscle he had on her would have been enough.
She’d seen him fight with his bare fists in Steel training, and right now, she was grateful they’d moved on to fighting with daggers. At least, she had some skill there that he couldn’t squash with his physical superiority.
“Spread out,” Hand Sil instructed. “Each pair will go through the sequences we’ve learned in slow motion first.”
With a flick of her wrist, a bunch of daggers lifted from the weapons rack at the side of the yard and floated toward each pair, ashlings plucking their blades from the air.
“Well, that’s some seriously cool magic,” Thal commented from the segment next to theirs as Frost and Lory got into position at the back of the yard. Beside him, Eira was inspecting her dagger like she expected it to leap out of her grasp any moment.
“Go!” Hand Sil didn’t wait for them to get ready but simply put them to work, already circling between the pairs and correcting stances, posture, and grip.
“Make sure to do it right while you’re slow.
You most certainly won’t become any more precise when you work at full speed.
” She marched past Tabi and Jarek. “Control,” she barked into the yard, “is the ultimate goal of any excellent fighter, be it with bare hands, throwing stars, sword, or magic.” She continued to circle, passing by a pair at the other end of the yard.
“Without control, you are weak. Without control, you are a slave to your opponent’s strengths rather than utilizing their weaknesses against them. ”
Across from Lory, Frost lifted his dagger, giving her a cold grin as he set his first step toward her in a practiced attack, dagger half-lifted in front of his chest.
Lory mirrored his movements, raising her weapon at a matching angle to parry should he decide to ignore Sil’s instructions and lash out with his blade, but Frost stuck to the protocol, taking one deliberate step after the other, curving the blade through the air in perfect arcs and lines.
Step by step, Lory went through the exercise, keeping pace with Frost’s movements while simultaneously watching for any sign he might decide to strike and kill her after all.
It wasn’t like many ashlings had died in Steel, but with the number of recent deaths, Lory wondered if she should watch her back double these days.
If Ricca was right, even after saving Frost, there was a chance he’d kill again.
Frost didn’t say a word as their daggers clashed in slow motion, blades sliding against each other as they both twirled to the side, getting out of the attack’s way in a fluid motion as familiar as sliding down a drainpipe, and they both danced back to their starting points.
“Not bad,” Hand Sil noted from the side of their segment. And when Lory glanced up, a half-smile softened Sil’s expression. “Now try that at full speed.”
So fast, Lory couldn’t get her blade into position, Frost attacked, swallowing the distance between them with sure strides, and when the dagger came down on her, shoving hers against it was all she could do not to have Frost’s blade at her throat as she stumbled, tripping over her own feet and landing on her ass.
White teeth bared and eyes flashing the dark blue of the evening sky, Frost grinned down at her, and from somewhere nearby, someone clapped.
Lory didn’t need to glance to the side to know the long, powerful legs in her peripheral vision belonged to Falcrest.