Chapter 11
Your Pleasure, Malakai Blackstone
ANNA
Istayed in my room the next day. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t relax. All I could think about was the moment I’d lost control. My throat ached thinking about it like I was in actual danger. Like he might have killed me in that chokehold.
I sighed.
Which was precisely the point. I knew that. Still, it didn’t make any of it feel good. A little deeper, and that cut could’ve been fatal.
A sharp knock startled me.
“Who is it?” I called, hoping they’d get the picture.
The door opened.
It was Caelan.
He shut the door and came into the room. He was dressed in the same set of armor he wore yesterday. He walked to the window and leaned against it, crossing his arms.
“We have our private lesson today,” he said. “Get dressed.”
I stared at him, my heart pounding as I prepared for an argument. Did he seriously march into my room and demand that I get dressed?
His expression was calm, but focused. He watched me with his pale blue eyes, his patience clearly on a timer.
I squared off with him for a moment, but seeing his jaw set in place, I groaned audibly and grabbed my gear.
He didn’t move as I meandered around my dorm, snatching each piece item by item since I’d tossed it all over the floor the day before.
Giving him a brief glare, I went into the bathroom and changed.
Our walk to the training hall was quiet aside from the heavy footfalls of our thick-soled boots. I took slow, steadying breaths, the evenly paced rhythm of our gait oddly calming. Maybe it was him. Caelan exuded confidence and an air of certainty that was already drawing out my anxiety.
I’d felt such stress after the match with Ji-Han that my entire body was exhausted. I didn’t know if I’d ever fight again.
“Your skill is impressive,” Caelan said, still looking forward.
Shifting awkwardly, I didn’t respond.
“You have not injured someone before, have you?” he asked.
“No.”
I thought of Derrick and all the time we spent sparring.
He was untouchable, unless, of course, he was trying to prove a point to an impetuous young woman.
He’d been my only true sparring partner with whom I had no restrictions.
I could do anything in a sparring match with him and have no fear of harming him.
He also never injured me. Being in that chokehold had been terrifying.
“That will not be the last time you injure a fellow Initiate,” he said. “You are talented, and you must train as if the threat is real.”
“I won’t harm my friends,” I said.
I followed him into the empty training hall.
He walked to the center and turned to face me.
“You will,” he said firmly. “I promise you there will be no long-term ramifications. I will not let you cause serious harm.”
“Then why did you let me cut him at all?” I said, gritting my teeth.
“I knew it was not life-threatening. The angle of your blade, the speed of your movement, and the ferocity of your intent—I could see it all,” he said.
I narrowed my eyes. “How can that be? That’s impossible.”
“Not to me,” he said. “Real combat trains you in a way nothing else can. Experiencing it here, in a controlled environment, will prolong your life. Get a sword.”
My fingers twitched as I reached for the sabre, my hand closing around the familiar grip of the hilt. The weight felt different now, heavier with the memory of Ji-Han’s blood.
Once I returned to the floor, he drew his blade—a sleek, well-worn longsword that gleamed under the rays that streamed in from the skylights. His movements were fluid and controlled, but there was an unmistakable edge to him. This wasn’t a sparring session.
This was survival training.
“Ready?” he asked.
I nodded, jaw tight.
“Good.” He moved first.
The strength of his opening strike sent a shockwave up my arm as I barely blocked in time. Sparks flew as our blades met, and I stumbled, gritting my teeth.
“Stay on your feet,” he barked, circling me with deadly focus. “Again.”
He came at me hard—his strikes relentless, calculated, meant to overwhelm me. My muscles burned as I parried, stepping out of reach of a sweeping blow aimed at my ribs.
“Whoever trained you went easy on you,” Caelan said, his voice harsh as he drove me back. “A parent? A cousin? Whoever it was, they cared for you. You hesitate. In real combat, you will be dead before you have time to flinch.”
The words cut deep, but they fueled something inside me—a spark of defiance. I wasn’t here to be pitied or coddled.
“Why are you here, Anna?” he yelled over the clashing of our swords.
I gritted my teeth and surged forward, meeting his blade with renewed force. The rush returned, that wild energy thrumming through my veins, but this time it wasn’t chaotic. It was focused, controlled.
I was here to get answers.
“Why do you fight?” he asked, his voice sharp.
My mom’s face, still and cold, flashed in my mind’s eye—a harsh reminder.
People die when you are weak.
I had to be strong.
Our blades danced, each strike faster and sharper than the last. I ducked under a swing, pivoted, and aimed a precise cut toward his side. He blocked effortlessly, but there was a flicker of approval in his eyes.
“Better,” he said, breathless but steady.
Sweat slicked my skin, my lungs burning from the effort, but I didn’t stop. I wouldn’t stop. I met him strike for strike, my body moving on instinct, every motion smoother and more deliberate.
Then he changed tactics. His foot swept out, hooking behind my ankle. I went down hard, the breath knocked out of me as I hit the floor with a thud. His blade hovered near my throat—not touching, but close enough to remind me who’d won.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then Caelan lowered his sword, offering a hand. I hesitated before taking it, his grip strong as he pulled me to my feet.
“You fought well,” he said, voice rough but sincere.
My chest heaved, but I faced him without wavering. “I lost.”
He shook his head, a faint, approving smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You were always going to lose.”
Caelan sheathed his blade with a practiced motion. “You have talent, Anna. From now on, I will be your sparring partner.”
A sense of relief swept through me. Not because I wouldn’t be facing my less talented classmates, but because I had a goal. I’d lost, but it wasn’t in vain. I still felt where his blade stopped.
That wouldn’t happen again.
Which meant I had to train.
Then, I wouldn’t be weak.
As I walked to the dorm, something made me pause.
I couldn’t figure out what it was. Adrenaline?
Something high voltage? Whatever it was, it made my blood rush through my veins.
I changed course, following a whim. I took a flight of stairs I’d never taken before, following a corridor to the western part of the castle.
It was a wing I hadn’t seen before. There were several rooms as I went further down the wing.
I tried a few doors, but they were locked.
No one was here. I continued towards the energy.
When I got to the end of a corridor, a large set of double doors stood before me. They were made of dark wood with inlaid designs carved around the perimeter and had a forged iron handle. Grasping the cold metal, I pulled, but it was locked too.
Groaning, I stood there and glanced around. No one was up here, and I wondered why it was abandoned in the middle of the afternoon. Irritated, I reached for the handle again, tempted to force it.
“Hey!”
I released the handle abruptly.
It was Commander Everson. Behind him, watching me curiously, was Adept Corinya.
“What are you doing down here?” he asked, approaching me steadily.
I turned and raised my eyebrows. “I was wondering what this wing was.”
He glared at me. “It was not a part of the tour for a reason. It is a restricted area.”
I moved away from the door and started moving down the corridor again.
“I didn’t realize,” I muttered, moving past him, but he grabbed my arm.
His grip was painful, and I felt cold. A fierceness in his eyes sent a shiver through my body.
“I do not know who you are, but you had best remember your place, Initiate.”
He continued to glare at me after he released me. I stumbled and quickly put distance between us. Adept Corinya watched me, her expression stoic, but I didn’t pause to question what she was doing this late with Everson. I left the wing without looking back.
When I got to the dorm, I found Roslyn in the common room.
“Hey,” I said.
She smiled, holding a cup of tea in her hand.
“I was waiting for you,” she said, rising. “I looked into the recruit you mentioned the other day—Cody. I was unable to find a record of him. Perhaps it was misplaced, but that would be unlikely. Would you like to tell me what you can remember?”
Paranoia was creeping in as I tried to decide if I thought she was telling the truth or not. She didn’t seem to be lying, but how could I be sure I wasn’t hallucinating an entire person? I’d been in a life-or-death situation, after all.
Sighing, I sat down.
“His name was Cody,” I started.
By the following week, the entire castle had heard about my match with Ji-Han.
I tried to play down the celebratory claps on the back, uncomfortable with how no one seemed phased that I’d hurt him.
I knew Raicanya was a serious sport here, and Ji-Han was going to be okay, but I wanted them to stop talking about it.
At meals, Isabella and I had suddenly become very popular to sit with—it was driving me crazy.
Thankfully, Ji-Han returned to class the day after our match, and he was friendlier toward me afterward, despite my profuse apologies and guilt over the incident.