Hand Selected #3
Collin jolted upright. His neck cracked. The vision shattered like dropped glass. Not now. Not here. Get a grip.
A tall, broad-shouldered fellow cut through the crowd and disappeared through the doors.
“I knew that one would do well,” Aries whispered.
Nic leaned close, “Didn’t know they were excepting brick houses.” And then quickly straightened.
“Aries of Chroma,” Sol barked.
Aries glanced at Collin—just long enough for Collin to see that familiar, unshakeable spark—then disappeared in two powerful strides up the meeting hall steps.
Sol didn’t pause.
“Nic of Stargazer Creek.”
“Tell Helen I died looking smug,” Nic whispered, and then he darted for the double doors.
Collin’s stomach twisted. What were they walking into? And how many would follow?
Next was Rhea. Then Sky, the girl with the hips, shuffled forward.
“Lekyi of North Town.”
Lekyi inhaled sharply, knuckles white around the grip of Solus, and rose like a man heading for execution.
Collin watched his friend vanish into the crowd. His vision swam. Run, one part of him urged. Stand tall, said another. He felt suspended between the two—split down the middle.
More names. Clive. His twin. Uriah.
With each name, the weight pressed harder on Collin’s chest.
Then—
“Collin of Chroma.”
A single, echoing beat.
He flinched. Ice swept through him. The sun vanished behind a cold surge of dread.
Then—a hand on his shoulder.
He turned. Dragonfly was watching him. No smile, just presence. A grounding current in a world spinning too fast.
He took her hand. Squeezed. Let go.
He stood.
His legs felt boneless, like he was walking through molasses. But he walked. Step by step, toward the heavy, polished doors. He couldn’t count how many times he’d entered this building before. But today, it had teeth.
Still—Aries had gone. Nic had gone. And now it was his turn.
Collin pressed his hands to the wood.
Pushed.
And stepped into whatever future waited.
Inside the dimly lit meeting hall, his friends were clustered near the wall like they were waiting for bad weather to pass. They had clearly heard Sol’s voice echoing from outside—his arrival earned no surprised looks.
Aries reached out and tugged him firmly by the elbow. “Join the condemned;”
Collin pulled free with a faint scowl. “Are we here for execution or just an etiquette exam?”
Nic sighed theatrically. “Honestly, either way. I’m overdressed.”
Collin scanned the cavernous space. No guards.
No formal seating. Just dim light, dust, and the crack of nerves.
The rear doors to the grassy yard were slightly ajar.
For a breathless second, he wondered if he could make a break for it.
Then came the quick-fire images: himself tackled mid-sprint, stabbed in the leg, or worse—hauled back in disgrace. The urge faded quickly.
“Whatever grading scale they’re using, it’s clearly flawed,” Nic said, elbowing Uriah and Collin in turn. “I mean, look at us. Bright-eyed, moderately competent, devastatingly handsome.”
But his gaze lingered a beat too long on Uriah’s stricken expression, and his next words were quieter. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
Collin tried to smile, but the expression didn’t quite stick.
“In all seriousness,” Nic said, glancing around, “where are all the polished, silk-wearing children of the elite? My group had a few—they’re nowhere in here. Curious, no?”
“Must be a separate room with pastries and embroidered rejection letters,” Collin muttered.
Clive nudged Lekyi with a grin. “Well, you’re the fanciest one here, even if your boots don’t match.”
Lekyi huffed. “In what world am I high society?”
“Nic has a point,” Aries said quietly.
Collin frowned. James hadn’t been called, and he was practically royalty—wealth, rank, and a steward father. “Maybe they’re calling us from worst to best. We’re just the warm-up act.”
Nic smirked and gave Collin a resigned thump on the back. “Warm-up act, huh? Think they’ll boo us offstage or just set the stage on fire?”
“Who was in your group?” Clive asked.
“Charlie, the doctor’s apprentice. His father’s a steward. And Ken—the captain’s son, built like a siege tower,” Nic replied.
“And Liam,” added Aries. “He held up well. His father’s a lawyer.”
“River says Charlie’s decent,” said Nic with a shrug.
“And Liam is Helen’s cousin on her mother’s side.
Don’t know much about Ken except he travels with a full entourage of bootlickers.
As for the girls—Helen, Stella, Dinah—all from high-ranking families.
Larissa’s father sits on the education panel, not that I mind the girls escaped this—whatever it is. ”
The group fell silent a moment. The hall creaked with age.
The absence of their more privileged peers loomed heavier than the heat outside.
Just then, Gravis stepped forward, his voice deep and steady as he introduced himself. Confidence radiated from him as naturally as heat from a forge.
Collin shook his hand—solid as iron—and the others followed suit with polite nods and greetings.
Sky was next, her smile lingering on Aries a breath too long as they exchanged hellos. Rhea hovered near the edge of the group, hesitant, until Clive offered a warm “hello” and coaxed one in return.
“We’re missing one,” Niall said, glancing at the group, then the chairs.
Collin turned to look—two rows arranged in a hollow square: five in one, six in the other. Eleven seats, ten occupants.
Nic looked like he was about to make a wisecrack when the front doors rattled hard in their frame.
Everyone jumped.
The candidates fell silent, every gaze fixed forward. A moment later, the doors creaked open—and Dragonfly stepped in.
She paused just inside the threshold, her gaze sweeping across the dim hall. The light caught in her hair like molten gold.
Before anyone could speak, Captain Sol appeared behind her and crossed into the room.
The mood shifted, whispers stilled. Whatever this was, it was about to begin.
Collin met Dragonfly’s gaze.
And for the first time, he wished she weren’t there.
Whatever they were about to face—he would have spared her from it. But the world gave no such mercy.
“Take a seat,” Sol said, his voice calm, almost bored, as he strolled past the cluster of trembling recruits. No one moved. The order drifted through the air and settled heavily over them, unanswered.
Sol didn’t pause to repeat himself. He walked the full length of the dim hall with deliberate slowness, footsteps echoing against stone.
When he reached the great teacher’s table at the back, he set down the roster without flourish.
Then he drew a chair with a long scrape of wood across tile, sat, and opened a leather-bound ledger. He began to write.
The scratching of his quill was unnervingly steady.
Clive was the first to break. He slipped into a seat at the end of the row, stiff-backed and blinking fast. Niall followed and sat across from him.
Aries motioned toward the front and moved confidently, but before Collin could follow, Sky swept past him—casually, brazenly—and claimed the seat beside Aries with a sultry little toss of her hair. Even now, Collin thought grimly. Even now.
Nic, Lekyi, and Uriah jostled silently behind her like dogs chasing the scent of distraction.
Collin, exasperated, dropped into the nearest empty seat.
Lekyi ended up to his right. When Collin looked to Dragonfly and subtly nodded for her to sit beside him, Rhea took the chair instead—her movements sharp, possessive.
Dragonfly sat in the only seat left, her bracelets chiming like distant warning bells.
Sol made no comment, no sign of acknowledgement. He turned another page in his ledger and continued writing.
The silence stretched, thick as fog.
Niall cleared his throat too loudly. Aries shifted, and his chair shrieked against the floor.
Nic’s cufflink knocked against his watch as he slowly rolled his sleeves up.
The beads at Dragonfly’s wrist gave another faint jingle as she clasped her hands in her lap, pressing them down to stop the trembling.
Collin’s chest was tight. His breath came short, and his heart was racing even though he had done nothing but sit. Sweat slicked his back and curled damp hair at his temple. And still, somehow, the cold seeped into his bones.
Dragonfly stared forward like an animal sensing a trap in every corner.
Clive had gone pale. Nic’s glances toward Sky had turned mechanical—habit, not interest. Uriah sat frozen, lips slightly parted, eyes locked on a blank stretch of wall.
Lekyi had shrunk into his chair, flushed red, as if his body was trying to disappear altogether.
And Rhea—Rhea was glaring.
It took Collin a moment to remember why. Lekyi’s brief entanglement, he realized. Of all the seats, she had to choose this one.
He shifted uncomfortably just as Sol’s voice shattered the silence.
“Dragonfly of North Town.”
Everyone jumped. Even the air snapped to terrified attention.
“Yes, sir,” she replied. Her voice was small. She had gone bloodless, her usual fire doused beneath layers of quiet dread. She looked... young. Breakable.
Collin wanted to stand. To protect her. To do something—anything—but his limbs refused him. His hands sat useless in his lap.
“Captain Kyle reported that the sword you currently have in your possession is unsuitable.”
A beat.
Sol waited, as if expecting her to defend herself. She said nothing. Her eyes stayed fixed on her folded hands. The silence made her look even smaller.
Collin’s heart bruised his ribs, aching. If he could shield her from the eyes burning into her, he would. But there was no shield to offer. Only stillness.
“I have a sword to spare,” Aries said suddenly, voice firm.
Every head turned. Even Sol looked up.
“That will not be necessary,” he said coolly, his attention returning to Dragonfly. “You will report to the armory when I dismiss you. They will issue you something appropriate.”