Chapter Thirteen
THIRTEEN
Tilly, Xavier and I made a quick plan to meet after dinner outside of Agate tonight before we split in different directions.
Unfortunately, the only class Tilly couldn’t switch around to be with me was CNM.
She has Divination class at the same time, and as a Malachite acolyte, that’s not on my class schedule. So, I’m braving CNM alone.
The Training Centre doors are wide open when I reach the building. The sounds of grunts and shouts echo from inside, as well as the soft thuds of bodies hitting the floor.
I amped myself up the entire walk out here, telling myself that today would not be like yesterday.
If I’ve learned anything from the few interactions I’ve had with Lillian, it’s that these people value a strong backbone.
Weakness is not tolerated, and I am not weak.
I may not have been trained as well as them or for as long, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t trained at all.
Lukas taught me what he could. Hours upon hours I either watched him in the backyard or I was in front of him, defending.
‘Arms up, Aria.’
‘You’re leaving yourself open, Aria.’
‘What kind of defence is that?’
‘Move around, don’t let me corner you.’
‘For the love of Stars, put your bloody arms up!’
That was all I heard. Until I started progressing. Until my defence was as locked down as it could be with only a brother who wouldn’t really hurt me as my trainer.
It was as if Lukas knew one day I’d have to face this world without him and defend myself against the monsters that lived within these walls.
I know if I get into a fighting ring with someone today, all I have to do is defend longer than it takes for them to tire themselves out on the attack. Just keep standing and stay on my feet.
Defence is what I’m good at. It’s being on the offence that I struggle with.
Lukas and I never got to that part of our training.
Don’t get me wrong, there are some offensive moves I know.
I can throw a punch, and I can kick, but my technique is shit, which is probably why Sebastian was able to dodge each of my attacks near the cliff.
I force my shoulders back as I step inside the Training Centre, taking in the scent of perspiration and wood.
I know where to look now and quickly spot the first years at the back of the room again.
I ignore the eyes on me as I make my way down the side, sticking near to the wall, giving everyone a large berth.
Unable to help myself, my eyes shoot across the other side of the room to the door I hid behind when I was listening to Sebastian and Nicks.
As if summoned by my thoughts, Professor Nicks emerges from the now open door of his office and heads straight for the group of first years.
I reach the group at the same time he does.
Nicks calls over the two students inside the salt ring who are both on the floor grappling for control, though they seem equally matched. They stop and jump to their feet.
‘Make a line, acolytes,’ Nicks instructs as he walks around to the front of the circle and stands with his feet hip width apart, hands clasped behind his back. Quickly, the first years all move until everyone is standing shoulder to shoulder.
‘You too, Nocthare!’
I jerk, finding Nicks looking directly at me. He juts his chin toward the other students, signalling for me to hurry up and join them. I do, albeit reluctantly.
I stand at the very end of the line next to a burly guy with a deep cleft in his chin. There are twelve of us in total. Moira is, thankfully, at the other end.
‘Listen up,’ Nicks starts, grabbing everyone’s attention.
‘This is my training facility, which means you abide by my rules. I don’t care what you do out there,’ he gestures to the front doors, ‘but when you’re under this roof, it means you’re here to listen and to pour your blood, sweat and tears into becoming something even your darkest monster would run from.
‘Malachite is known as the Warrior Unit for a reason. You are supposed to protect those who cannot protect themselves. I can teach you to defend others; I can teach you how to fight with and without your element. But I cannot teach you how to live with the fact that you could die on a battlefield one day. If that scares you, if you think you can’t handle that, then you need to leave. Now.’
Silence. No one moves.
‘Good. That’s what I like to see.’ Nicks nods, then gestures behind him. We all look to find six older students kitted out in black tactical gear stalking toward us.
Two girls. Four guys.
My breath catches when I realise the one at the very end of the line is Sebastian.
His dark hair is pushed back, with a few strands curling at the nape of his neck.
His fitted black top clings to his body like a second skin, and the padded protective vest over his torso only makes his frame seem larger and more defined.
The thick belt at his hips holds a dagger on either side.
Hilts of dark green leather bob with each step he takes.
A matching hilt sticks out over his shoulder, something strapped to his back that I can’t quite make out.
His black boots thump across the hard ground, in sync with the five others ahead of him, creating a thunderous sound as they spread themselves out in a line directly in front of us all.
Because I’m standing at the end of my line and Sebastian is at the end of his, he winds up directly in front of me, with only several feet between us.
‘Your last session was for your unit leader to get a grasp on the basic combat skills you have in your arsenal. Based on the information he relayed to me, I have been able to determine who is our weakest and who is showing the most promise,’ Nicks informs us all.
My hands get fidgety; unease sweeps through me as I look down the line of the older students and the hardened gazes they all sport. One of them is Lillian. I didn’t recognise her at first because her hair has been cut shorter, right beneath her ears.
Just knowing Sebastian had a role in passing on information about the class makes me suspect that I’ve been placed at the bottom of the food chain.
Great.
‘You will notice there are twelve of you and six of them. In a moment you will be placed in pairs and assigned a combat leader. Your combat leader will mark you on your progress throughout your training. At the end of each month, the student who has scored the highest marks will be rewarded. Now, you might be wondering what these rewards are.’ He pauses and signals to the combat leaders standing side by side like soldiers ready for battle.
Suddenly, the six of them unsheathe weapons from their body with quick, fluid movements.
Two of them pull shields from their backs.
My eyes immediately fix on the polished malachite stones that have been built into the flat edges of the shields, creating a ring of green against the silver.
Lillian unsheathes two daggers next and again, her blades are embossed with malachite, two inches of green swirling stone meeting the tip of each deadly blade.
Another combat leader presents throwing stars.
They’re sharp and intricately carved, with malachite in the centres.
A bow and arrow are next; the deadly pointed end of the arrow is a sharpened cut of the swirling green stone.
Finally, my eyes fall to Sebastian, who unsheathes the short sword strapped to his back. He whirls it through the air effortlessly, as if it’s an extension of his own arm. A strip of green malachite runs right through the centre of the blade, from base to tip.
Stars, these are beautiful weapons. Judging by the gasps that build down the line of first years, I’m inclined to believe the rest of my class agrees.
‘These are what you’re working for, acolytes!
Take them in, because if you want one, you’ll have to prove you deserve it.
I’ll call your names, then the combat leader that’s been assigned to you will take you to a training mat.
They will be your first point of contact.
You listen to them, you heed their advice, you do as you’re told. Understood?’
No, I want to grumble.
‘Cillian Foy and Isla Peters,’ Nicks calls out. A blonde girl next to Moira steps forward, as does the burly guy next to me. Without needing to be announced, Lillian moves forward and gestures for her two acolytes to follow her.
My stomach sinks. Shit. Now I’ll either be stuck with a stranger or Sebastian, who feels like as much a stranger as the others.
‘Marcus Long and Aiden Redford.’
Two others step forward, grinning at each other, clearly glad to be paired together. They bump shoulders while walking toward their combat leader, who has a gnarly scar across his jawline.
My heart starts to race as another two students leave, dwindling down to the moment I was dreading in my mind. My worst possible outcome.
‘Moira Davis and Arianell Nocthare,’ Nicks announces.
I don’t move.
I fear if I do, it’ll be to turn around and walk the hell out of here. To make matters worse, the combat leader that steps forward is Sebastian.
What have I done to deserve this? I ask myself silently, looking to the ceiling. Why am I being punished? What have I ever done in my life to incite this particular brand of torture?
‘Acolyte, have you forgotten how to use your legs?’ Professor Nicks points to Moira and Sebastian, who have already walked off without me.
‘No,’ I mutter petulantly beneath my breath.
Reluctantly, I follow a dozen steps behind them, watching as they carve out a spot at the far end of the room, almost directly outside of Nicks’s office.
By the time I reach them, Moira is stretching her hamstrings out, bent over so that her ass is directly in front of Sebastian.
Surprisingly, he’s not paying her a lick of attention, because his entire focus is on me as I join them in front of a large, square, foam mat.
‘Nice of you to finally join us,’ he states with a stonelike expression.
‘Wish I felt the same,’ I huff and tug at the end of my braid that’s fallen over my shoulder, ensuring the elastic is secure.
‘If you want me to cut you out, I will. It’ll be no skin off my back.’
‘Doubt it.’ I shake my head, letting my braid fall to my back. ‘You’re not shutting me out again that easily, Zain. If Professor Nicks says I get to train, then I’m training.’ Because I’m positive if Nicks wasn’t here, Sebastian would have tried his best to isolate me from training once more.
‘Is that so?’ Sebastian cocks his head slowly, as if he’s assessing how determined I am to fight him on this. Which is very. I can tell the moment he realises I’m not backing down this time, because his eyes harden into two gleaming emerald stones.
‘Fine,’ he relents. ‘But I suggest you get down and start stretching those little legs out. They’re going to be shaking by the time I’m done with you.’
‘Again,’ Sebastian barks as he paces around the circumference of the mat. I’m currently bent over on my hands and knees, panting through what feels like my last breaths as Moira glares up at me from the mat like she wants to claw my eyes out.
We’ve been sparring against each other for what feels like hours. After gritting my teeth through her onslaught of attacks on my body, I saw an opening and went for it, swiping her standing leg from under her as her other one soared high, careening for my face.
I’ve been put on defence this whole time while Moira’s been put on offence.
Her attacks have been fast and ruthless, keeping me constantly on edge.
But the more I evade her swift advances and strikes, the sloppier she’s becoming, letting her frustration and anger fuel her rather than precision and calculation.
She’s not bad, I’ll admit that … begrudgingly. But she’d be better if she wasn’t so intent on harming me.
My own defence has been locked down like a steel wall.
My eyes have been trained on her every move, every breath, every twitch of her fingers and slide of her foot.
Through all of this I was able to pick up on her tell as well: each time she goes to kick, her back foot takes one little step forward seconds before she strikes.
Which is how I knew when to pivot out of the way, duck low, and swipe my leg out with a hard kick, knocking her off her standing foot and flat onto her back. She hit the mat with a satisfying thud.
It takes her several breaths before she clambers to her feet. A snarl twists her face.
‘You’re not supposed to attack! Your instructions were to defend.’ She turns to Sebastian, who looks utterly bored with the dramatics. ‘Aren’t you going to say something?’ she demands.
‘Nocthare, twenty push-ups for disobeying instructions,’ Sebastian points to the floor and I practically gape.
‘What? That’s ridiculous! I saw an opportunity, and I took it. It’s not my fault she left herself open.’
‘Argue and I’ll double it,’ he threatens with a rise of his dark brows, his expression finally coming back to life as if the mere thought of punishing me has kickstarted something.
I bite back a slurry of curses as I drop to the floor. If Nicks says I can train, then I’m training. My earlier words ring in my ears as my limbs shake with effort. Why in the hell did I have to go and say that?
‘Davis, your offence is shit,’ Sebastian scolds Moira from beside me. ‘Rein it in and focus. Your lack of control is the reason she was able to get in and strike you like that.’
Hearing Moira get reprimanded should give me some sort of thrill, and maybe on another day it would.
But I’m too busy pushing through my set, struggling with the last five push-ups as sweat trickles from my temples and into my eyes.
I just want this starsdamn class to be over.
All I can think about is how I’m going to make it up the steps to my room later.
When I’m finally done, I use the hem of my shirt to wipe away the sweat and get back into position across from Moira.
I feel Sebastian behind me as he rounds the mat once more. His presence is heavy and consuming, wrapping around me like a vice.
‘This time, acolyte, you are only going to defend,’ he orders in a low voice, and I feel his warm breath tickle the baby hairs at the nape of my neck.
‘And if she leaves herself open again?’ I ask, looking over my shoulder at him.
‘Then I’ll pull her up on it.’
‘So, I’m the only one who’s allowed to get hurt? How’s that fair?’
‘It’s got nothing to do with being fair,’ he chastises, ‘and everything to do with being better than your opponent. Now face forward and do it again. You’re not stopping unless your legs give out on you.’
‘Sadist,’ I mutter as I turn away, finding Moira glowering at me.
‘You have no idea.’