Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
Breakfast the next morning passes without incident. After we finish eating, it’s time for my first combat skills training class, held well away from the other buildings in a clearing surrounded by tall trees.
At least two dozen fledglings gather there.
Our teacher, Instructor Celeste Dawson, is a far cry from what I pictured. The weapons instruction in my head was a brawny man with bulging biceps and battle scars crisscrossing his face and body.
Instructor Dawson is a beautiful woman. Tall, willowy, and blond, with nary a scar in sight.
“Today, we’ll be using the targets on the trees to work on precision. If you start hitting the center every time, then move back ten paces. Once everyone can hit static targets with consistency, we can progress to moving targets.” She faces the group. “Let’s see how you’ve progressed with throwing stars. Anyone want to volunteer to demonstrate technique?”
Helene steps forward. “I will.”
Dawson flips a throwing star in her hands. “Have you been practicing?”
“I have, Instructor Dawson.”
“Well, I guess we’re about to find out if you’ve practiced enough. See that tree with an X carved in it?” She gestures to the tree about ten yards away. “Aim for that.”
With a malicious gleam in her onyx eyes, Helene winks at me before spinning around to face her target. She rotates her arm several times to loosen up the limb. Once she’s ready, she releases the throwing star, concentration giving her a severe case of resting bitch face.
The device sails through the air, hitting the mark dead-on.
Elijah offers her a congratulatory fist bump. “Fucking awesome.”
Dawson graces Helene with a pleased grin. “Well done, Mortimer.”
“Thank you, Instructor.” After the praise, Helene casts a sly glance my way. “Since Lark is new, I bet she’d like a chance to show off her skills.”
What? No, I really wouldn’t. I shake my head. “No, thank you. I think I’m?—”
Dawson interrupts with an excited clap of her hands. “That’s an excellent idea. Fledgling Axton, step up and show us what you’ve got.”
What I’ve got is a burning desire to rewind time and sew Helene’s big mouth shut. Barring that, I guess I get to partake in this wonderful opportunity to demonstrate to everyone yet again why I’m the worst fledgling ever.
I say nothing when Helene drops the unfamiliar and oddly shaped throwing star into my outstretched palm. Fumbling for the correct grip, I rack my brain to recall how Helene held the device. I’ve thrown a dagger before. Surely the concept is similar enough.
Aware that all eyes are on me, I raise my arm and flick my wrist. The star whizzes through the air. Wide of the mark. Wide of the tree altogether.
Helene smirks. “I could tutor you.”
Dawson beams. “That’s a great idea. Way to be a team player, Mortimer.”
I fight a grimace. No part of me believes Helene made the offer out of the goodness of her heart. Whenever I think of that custard, I still shudder. “Thanks. I think I might watch everyone else first…to see if I can get the hang of it.”
As soon as Helene walks toward Elijah, I hurry over to join Olive, Nick, and Abel on the far side of the training area. Maybe if I make myself scarce, she’ll forget about me.
Olive pats my shoulder. “Don’t worry. Throwing stars are weird at first, but you’ll pick it up in no time.”
Abel hip bumps her. “Especially if you don’t let this one train you.”
She whirls on him, huffing out an outraged gasp. “What? I’ll have you know that I beat you the last two time…you little sneak!”
Abel darts away, whistling while he tosses the throwing star he snatched from Olive into the air. “Finders keepers. Guess that means I’m going first.”
Nick doesn’t say much, but his skeptical glance lingers. My nerves kick in. What if he agrees with all the other Helenes and Elijahs of the academy and believes catching me up on the five weeks I missed is more trouble than I’m worth?
Throwing my shoulders back, I concentrate on Abel’s grip as he prepares to throw. I guess I’ll just have to prove Nick—and the other doubters—wrong.
After a few attempts with the throwing stars, I start to feel more comfortable. Abel and Olive bicker over the best way to hold the weapon, so I give both a try. By my third go, I’m at least hitting the tree. I still have my work cut out for me, of course, but progress is progress.
Nick is up again when Dawson claps her hands and orders us to switch to bows and arrows. While we do, she speaks to another instructor.
Nerves flutter in my stomach like a thousand tiny butterflies. When Leesa and I were younger, we begged my mother for bows and arrows. Much to my surprise, she caved and bought us each a set. One of the guards gave us impromptu lessons, and after hours and hours of practice on the castle grounds, I mastered the skill.
Finally feeling in my element, I notch an arrow, pull the bow back, and release it. The arrow zings through the air and hits true, sticking to the X on the tree before me.
Theo offers a low whistle and Olive grins. Several others yell encouraging comments.
“Damn, Axton. Not bad.”
“Wow, the newbie’s got actual skills.”
Palpable relief sweeps through me.
“Everyone, listen up.” As the other instructor leaves, Dawson’s almost unseeing gaze zips from fledgling to fledgling. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. Practice while I’m gone.” She swings her finger from one student to the other, her face serious. “Don’t do anything stupid.”
A lanky man with a shaved head and piercing gray eyes approaches me and extends his hand. “Mark Levine.”
I shake his hand, annoyed my first reaction to someone other than my unit and Theo being nice to me is suspicion. A few bad experiences shouldn’t transform me into a pessimist. “Lark. Nice to meet you.”
He plucks an arrow from the barrel. “Okay, I’m just going to get right to the point. You’re obviously a badass with a bow, and I haven’t gotten the hang of it yet. Care to give me a few pointers?”
His hopeful, genuine smile quiets my nerves. “Oh, um, thank you. Sure, I can do that.”
His smile widens. “Really? You don’t mind?”
“Of course not.” He might not know it, but he’s actually helping me. Some of the animosity toward my presence at Flighthaven is due to the other fledglings’ belief that I bring nothing to the table. That I’ll drag them down. Aiding Mark with his bow will show that I’m a team player and not completely worthless.
“You’re my hero. Thank you.” He responds with an almost comical wink. “Look, I feel like an idiot admitting this, but I don’t want to practice where everyone can see how terrible I am. Let’s make sure we’re far enough away from the others.”
Sympathy tugs at my chest. Having just experienced my own public humiliation over my lack of throwing star skills, I can’t help but relate. “You may not have noticed, but this is literally the one thing I’m good at. So don’t worry. I won’t judge.”
Mark drags a hand across his forehead, miming relief, and leads me across the training area to the far back corner. Along with the distance, the trees scattered throughout the area provide us with a little cover from the other students.
I go through the steps, guiding him on how to aim and where to place his elbow while encouraging him to relax. “When you’re ready, take the?—”
Hands grab me from behind, pinning my arms to my sides. I gag on the musty cloth stuffed into my mouth.
Struggling and kicking, I whip my head to the side and spot Mark standing by like nothing is happening.
He notices my confusion and sneers. “Stupid bitch.” Stepping closer, he gives me a rough pat on the cheek. “Did you really think I needed your help?”
Rage fills me, along with a thick dose of regret for not seeing through his act.
“Aw, the newbie did a good deed. I’m touched.” Helene’s cold voice mocks me. I lash out and try to charge her as she comes into view, but a wall of wind shoves me back. “Hold her tight, Elijah. She’s a little feisty.”
I glare and attempt to speak around the cloth.
They ignore me.
After dragging me to a tree, they shove me against the rough trunk. Mark focuses on the ground, where the tree’s roots begin to writhe. They emerge from the grass like thick brown snakes and wrap around me, starting at my ankles and twining around my body until I’m bound up to my neck.
Earth magic. The bastard’s using earth magic in clear violation of the rule book, but with Dawson gone and me without a way of alerting my flight unit, he’ll probably get away with it.
Flaring my nostrils and sucking in a deep breath through my nose, I try calling upon my own magic. Though I find the well where it resides, the suppressant I take each morning blocks my access. Almost like my power’s covered in a heavy shroud and then locked up tight.
Godsdammit.
“Let’s see how brave you are.” Elijah produces an apple out of nowhere and settles it on top of my head. “I suggest you stay still for this next part. Ready, Mortimer?”
“Just about.”
Helene stands back a good fifty paces. She wields a bow in one hand and an arrow in the other. I struggle anew, thrashing against the roots holding me in place. When Mark tsks , the bindings tighten to the point that I’m worried I’ll crack a rib. Muffled, unintelligible noises emerge around the cloth in my mouth.
“What’s the matter, Axton?” Elijah puts his hand over his heart. “Are you scared?”
He backs away before nodding at Helene.
She nocks an arrow in her bowstring. “Better not move. I’d hate for things to get messy.”
Dread nooses my neck. Helene isn’t aiming at the apple. No, her arrow points straight at my heart.
All trussed up like a solstice turkey, there’s literally nothing I can do to escape this. And the worst part is, I walked right into their trap.
Helene steps closer, her grin widening. “Let’s hope I’m as good with a bow as I am with a throwing star.” Pressure grows behind my eyes, and despite my furious attempts to prevent it, a tear trickles down my cheek. Helene hisses and points. “See? That’s exactly why we don’t want you here. You’re too soft. You should go to Bigley and ask to transfer to Forthaven instead. If you agree to do it now, we’ll let you go. Blink once for yes, twice for no.”
The mortifying truth is that a part of me wants to acquiesce. To transfer to Forthaven, where the foot soldiers train and supposedly grow as close as siblings, or better yet, beg an exemption from the king and return home.
I won’t, though. I may be soft, but I still possess some pride. And I refuse to let the assholes win.
An impatient Helene huffs. “What’s it going to be, Axton? We don’t have all day.”
Lifting my chin, I blink twice.
Take that, you dragon fuckers.
Her mouth flattens. “Fine. Have it your way.”
She pulls back her arm and releases the arrow with a whoosh . My eyes squeeze shut. I brace for impact, but the only thing I feel is a tiny jerk above my head. I open my eyes again and double-check my torso, just to be sure. No blood. No arrow.
Elijah growls. “You missed.”
Helene regards him like he’s an idiot. “Are you blind? I hit the apple right in the middle.”
“Screw the apple. You didn’t hit her . You could have at least drawn some blood.”
I do my best to glare a hole through Elijah’s awful head, because what the fucking fuck?
Mark saunters up and plucks the arrow from the tree, the apple still attached. After taking a bite, he slides the apple off the end and places it back on my head. “There’s always time for blood in round two.”
By the heavens. If Leesa did run away from Flighthaven, I’m starting to understand why. Who could blame her? These people are flat-out nuts.
Nearby rustling draws Mark’s attention to one of the biggest trees. His face pales. “Shit.”
“Mortimer. Levine.” Vice Commander Torno pops out from beneath the leafy canopy and strides toward us at a brisk pace. “What’s happening here? Is this an approved training exercise?”
Helene’s pale face deepens to a crimson shade. She lowers her bow. “I…we were just messing around.”
Mark jumps in. “Yeah. Lark dared us to do this.”
I jerk my head, sending the apple toppling to the ground.
“Fledgling Axton isn’t your instructor.” Torno spears Helene with icy eyes before turning her attention to Mark and Elijah. “Untie her. Now.”
Mark spins to face me. A moment later, the roots binding me loosen and dive back into the earth. I yank the disgusting cloth from my mouth just as Elijah walks up and whispers in my ear. “You’re safe this time, Axton. But you’d better watch your back.”
He saunters off with the others. Torno watches me, her brow furrowed. “Everything okay?”
I fake a smile, praying that she can’t read the lie on my face. “Yup. Everything’s great. Just messing around. Sorry. Won’t happen again.”
Torno studies me before nodding. “Okay. Remember, though, if you’re experiencing any difficulties with the other fledglings that compromise your safety, you should report to me right away.”
I murmur another “yup” and take my leave, scurrying across the field to escape Torno’s scrutiny. Her support should make me feel better, but that concerned expression reminds me too much of my mother’s. It tells me that on some level, she agrees with the other fledglings and believes I’m too soft for this place. Too weak. Just because there’s a good chance she’s right doesn’t mean I want to read my failure in her eyes.
For the remainder of class, I stick close to Olive, and then I walk with her to History. I’m relieved when she plops into a seat on the other side of the auditorium from where Elijah, Helene, and Mark sit. Our instructor launches into lecture on the reign of Queen Aero, who ruled Tirene almost a millennia ago and kicked off the war between our kingdoms that started us down this long-standing pathway of animosity. Despite my own fascination with the subject, I struggle to focus on anything beyond the arrowhead aimed at my heart earlier. I can’t believe I’m thinking this, but if not for Helene, I might be dead. She partook in the hazing with a clear goal to scare me, not hurt me. Mark and Elijah? If someone told me they murdered people and drank their victims’ blood for fun, I wouldn’t bat an eye.
When lunch arrives, I grab my tray and dig into my food without speaking.
Olive bumps my shoulder. “You’re quiet all of a sudden.”
When I wince in reply, she squeezes my bicep. “Are you all right?”
“I’m okay. But every inch of my body feels like I’ve been beaten with a sack of rocks.”
Abel pats my hand. “It could be worse. You could feel like you’ve been beaten with a sack of rocks, gored by an angry alicorn, and tossed off the side of Mount Klemson. Though that’s probably coming up.”
The force with which I stab a piece of chicken makes my plate jump. “Gee, thanks for giving me something to look forward to.”
He winks. “Anytime.”
After that exchange, I don’t contribute much to the conversation. I need to preserve my remaining strength and sanity for our upcoming class. One I’ve been dreading.
Magic.