22
The Balcony, the Bell, and the Lion
Melody
I stand there, full of too many feelings. War. Already here. So much has changed in a year—or maybe not. Maybe Caryan simply shielded me from this world’s severe reality. Sudden anger flares up in me.
Not good. The magic simmering in my veins rears its head, more than eager to erupt and turn everything to waste. I close my eyes. Sweat beads on my forehead as I wrestle to force it back down.
“Are you alright?” Shay lays a cool hand on my skin, startling me.
I quickly force a smile on my face. “Yeah. I’m good.”
“Wow, the high lords are training us,” Cassius mutters.
A group of beautiful girls passes, one giggling, “Think Riven Caedmon would write his name across my cleavage if I asked sweetly?”
I stare at the copper-haired beauty with lips painted a dark crimson—and then at her more-than-ample cleavage. Hells, I want to rip her face off. And I want to cry, because, as a skeleton with skin, no one will so much as look at me twice—at least not for the right reasons. Certainly not Riven.
The path opens into a U-shaped building with a courtyard at its heart.
Several fighting rings are roped off, the ground strewn with hay and sand.
Wooden stands rise along one side, an amphitheater for the eager.
In the middle, a ring stands elevated on a podium, stark and waiting.
The scent of blood lingers sharp in the air, turning my insides cold.
Students are already sparring, whirling blades impossibly fast. Clash, part, clash again.
“Welcome, students.” Kyrith’s voice licks down my spine like ice.
I whirl to find him in battle gear, shoulder-long, snow-white hair in battered strands around his angular face. I remember our last encounter too well. The dagger I buried in his shoulder. The way he teleported.
“For those who don’t know me—though I believe you all do—I’m High Lord and Professor Kriannon.
I’ll show you how to hone your elemental skills into a weapon.
” Though he speaks to all, his forest-green eyes rest on me, a cruel smirk tugging on his mouth.
“In short: either kick ass or get your ass kicked. Your choice.” The bastard has the nerve to wink at me.
Ronin comes up behind him—the elegant witcher, short copper hair, quiet and alert, moving like a cat. His cat-pupiled eyes find mine. He gives me a grim look that says nothing good is coming—and that he’s sorry.
“This is High Lord and Witcher Ronin ?aren.” Kyrith gestures to him.
“The Dark Lord—our king ”—he catches himself and smirks at me—“deemed it best you also learn simple combat in case your magic depletes. We’ll later move to magic-infused weapons.
Professor ?aren will point out your weaknesses and make you work on them.
After all, we are fae, and fae are born to fight! ”
“Hells, yeah,” Ryder drawls. “I like that man.”
Shay looks grim. Cassius has a glint in his eyes. Ryder outright grins. Well, I suppose I’m just not fae enough to like the prospect of violence.
“So—form groups by magical class. Fire wielders, ice wielders, air, water, earth summoners, illusionists, healers.” Kyrith claps to make us move.
A hand goes up.
“Yeah?” Kyrith says.
“What if we have more than one class, sir?”
“Good question. Pick your dominant.”
I swallow as he strides toward me while students group up and Ronin starts barking instructions. “Long time no see, sweetheart,” Kyrith drawls, eyes raking over my body. “Did you plan to surprise Caryan by looking already dead? Save him the effort?”
“What fucking effort?” I grit out.
“Giving you part of his magic. Bringing you back. Saving your bony ass.” Anger surges again like the tide under the moon. My magic wants to answer his stupid comment, but I don’t let it. Kyrith smirks—he knows I’m a second from roasting him, and looking forward to it.
“Which class should I join?” I ask casually.
“None. We’re training you separately until we see how the magic Caryan gifted you manifests.”
“It’s lightning.”
“Yeah, I heard about a little incident in the Black Forest with wolves. I’d like the rumor confirmed.”
“Wait—what? How do you know about that?”
He just smirks. Gods, I want to punch him.
“Come on.” Instead of an answer, he grabs my thin arm and drags me to a ring. “Let’s give them something to talk about.”
“Let me go,” I hiss.
“Make me. With that magic of yours, you can. Let’s find out what you’re made of.”
“No,” I say—with more panic than I want him to hear. But I can’t let it up. The last time I killed those wolf shifters, and I can’t even let myself think of what would happen next time. So no, letting it up is not an option. Ever.
“Interesting,” he says, briefly surprised. “We’ll see about that.” He hurls me to the ground. “Listen up, students. Here’s what happens if you can’t defend yourself magically. This is why you’ll join my evening classes—stamina and muscle.”
He tosses me a short sword and shield, then snatches a long sword from the rack, swinging it for show.
“Since you won’t summon your magic, pick that up and fight me.
” He nods at me. I try—but the sword is heavy and my muscles are weak.
I get to my feet first, grab the shield—every muscle screaming in protest—then the sword.
Kyrith, the bastard, doesn’t wait. He launches at me. I don’t even try to block. I drop the blade and hide behind the shield, swamped by embarrassment. His blow is so strong, I go down immediately. He only snorts at the pathetic display.
“Melody!” Aris fills my mind with ferocious fury.
“Chill. I’m good. Just combat,” I shoot back, hauling my shields up so he won’t feel my terror.
“And this is why we’ll work on strength as well. I bet none of you wants to end up like this.” Kyrith strikes again. His sword dents my shield. The impact sets my bones singing. One more and I’m done.
“Come on—call that magic, Melody,” Kyrith chirps lightly, coming for me.
“No,” I pant, shoving to my feet.
“Why? It’s killing you, can’t you see?” he growls between bared teeth.
“Then it’s finishing the job for you.”
He shakes his head, rips the shield from my grip with terrifying ease, and hurls it behind me. A kick to my side sends me reeling; another to my back drops me on all fours. I crawl toward the sword. Kyrith throws his head back and laughs.
“Melody!” Aris roars through the bond with ancient wrath. “Where are you? I’m coming!”
“See? You don’t want to end up crawling like that, do you?” Kyrith asks the watching students, and shame eats me alive.
But another part, a dark part, bristles with fury and wants his head for that. The magic in me writhes like a monster in a cage, roaring its agreement, tearing to break free. No! No matter what he does, I won’t let it out. With iron-cast will, I shove it back into that prison inside me.
Another kick blasts the air from me. I’m sure he cracked a rib—if not more. He steps over me as blackness wavers in my peripheral vision. “Ready to face me like a fae?”
“Fuck you,” I spit, uncurling enough to snarl up at him.
He chuckles—and kicks me again.
An ear-splitting roar shakes the foundations of this world a second before Aris’s massive body slams into the yard. Dust stirs and wood splinters as his massive tail crushes wood. Students scream and press back along the walls to make room.
Aris plants one leg protectively beside me and roars again—right into Kyrith’s face—drenching him in demon saliva and steam.
Kyrith, to his credit, doesn’t even flinch.
“Look who’s come to protect the weakling—the traitorous demon.
Caryan knew this would happen. He told me to give you a message.
Interfere with her training one more time, and he’ll consider it a violation of Melody’s contract.
He’ll fillet you himself before he drags her back in chains. ”
“No!” I lift my head. I don’t care what Caryan does to me —but I have no doubt he’ll hurt Aris first chance he gets.
“So, demon.” Kyrith bares his teeth. “You oversized lizard—scuttle back to the hole you crawled from, or I’ll call Caryan.”
“Go, Aris!” I beg, fear squeezing my heart to the point of breaking it. “Please. Just go!”
Aris roars again, snapping those massive teeth inches from Kyrith’s face—teeth the size of half his body. “I will not leave you with this monster—”
Ronin steps to my side, looking up at Aris. “I’ll take her to the healer,” he promises softly, so only we hear. “Please. You’ll only cause her more pain if you don’t.”
“No!”
“Please, Aris. Please!”
“If you truly want to help her, demon, make her summon her magic,” Kyrith throws over his shoulder as he turns away. “If she doesn’t, I’m not making promises. Move—or I’ll call him, and we all know what happens.”
The last thing I see before I black out from pain is Aris spreading his wings and Ronin lifting me into his arms.