Chapter 4 #2
My gaze swept over the crowd with wide, innocent eyes, then down the length of my exposed body before cutting back to him with a slow, deliberate smile. “It’s a bit fucking late for that.”
His face softened, as he dropped my hands and wrapped his arms around my frozen body. I stilled for a moment before letting myself melt into his embrace. The scent of leather and steel overtook my senses, his heart beating against my ear. I nestled in closer.
“Gods help me, Lyra, this is no place for a Princess.” His voice was low, edged with something dangerously close to desperation.
Pulling away from me, he levelled a glare at the onlookers, who turned back towards the fire.
The sound of talking filled the beach as they all returned to their conversations.
Obviously Orin held some sort of power here.
“Lucky for me, I am not a princess anymore. I am an initiate,” I whispered, giving him a small smile.
He shook his head, eyes softening as he looked down at me, but I could see the truth in them.
Hurt filled me, but I squared my shoulders. I pierced him with my gaze, willing the tears to clear from my vision.
“A lot has changed since you left me—”
“Left you?” His voice cracked as he interrupted me, eyebrows rising. He looked away, jaw tight, as if the sight of me was more than he could bear.
Before I could respond, a loud yell pulled my attention back to the Dead Sea.
Angry waves swirled and crashed, aggressively pulling at the initiate trying to make his way through the shallows.
Riven waded onto the shore with grace, slamming his fist in the air.
“Fuck yes!” he exclaimed.
Riven’s thick eyebrows raised in question, studying me like a riddle he wanted to solve.
His gaze flicked back over his shoulder to the cliffs rising in the distance, as if measuring the impossible path I must have taken to reach the shore before him.
He gave his name to the Iron Guard before walking over to me.
“How did you get here before me, princess?” Riven ran a hand through his brown, unruly hair, pushing back the damp strands plastered to his forehead. “Actually, it doesn’t matter. Did you like my flip?”
Riven grinned with light-hearted mischief, slinging an arm around my shoulders as if we had known each other for years.
He barely had time to steer me a few steps away before Orin’s hand slashed out, ripping Riven’s arm off me and twisting it behind his back.
“You do not touch the princess,” Orin snarled, his grip tightening.
Riven winced theatrically under Orin’s grip.
“Strong grip, soldier. Do you practice on your own?” Riven hissed through his teeth with pain but widened his smirk.
Orin’s grip tightened, drawing a low, deliberate groan from Riven. He shot me a wink, and he leant into Orin’s body.
“How’d you know I like it rough?”
“Shut up,” Orin grunted, pushing a laughing Riven away with disgust.
I pursed my lips and shook my head, turning towards the bonfire. I was alive, and if I was going to stay alive long enough to find out why the Gods spared me, I needed warmth. Not to watch a match of testosterone. “Wait,” Orin said, shrugging out of his jacket and extending it to me.
I stared at it as if it had teeth. “I don’t want your help,” I said before turning away from him.
“I take it you have some history there,” Riven said as he followed me, shaking out his arm dramatically and flexing his fingers.
I glanced over my shoulder at Orin, who watched me intently.
“Something like that,” I replied.
We pushed through the throng of drenched initiates crowding the fire, a sigh of relief escaping me as its warmth soaked into my numb skin.
“And honestly, the backflip was an unnecessary risk to take. You could have easily died smashing into the rock face.”
“Princess, I happen to be good at taking unnecessary risks. You on the other hand…” He chuckled. “We both know you’re not here with the king’s blessing. I’m assuming you’ve run away.”
He dipped his head so I could see the amusement playing in his grey eyes.
I cast my gaze down, expecting him to deliver the same blow Orin did, that I was too weak. Instead, he started slow clapping. He smirked and I couldn’t help but return his grin.
“So, she swaps gowns with swords to protect her beloved Kingdom herself.” He shook his head in wonder.
I stifled a startled laugh. I wasn’t here for any noble reason. The only thing I had sought was the finality of death.
“Dreya!” Riven called past me, and I turned to see the woman who tackled Aldric walking towards us, arms wrapped around herself.
Slowly, my skin began to thaw. I drowned out Riven and Dreya’s conversation and ignored the cheers as more initiates stumbled ashore. My skin may no longer be numb. But I was.
“Initiates!” A commanding voice cut through the excited chatter, rising above the roar of the waves.
I’d seen this man speaking with my father before, and the memory made me instantly wary.
Commander Earl Kragthorne stood atop a large rock, radiating authority.
Behind him, the rockface opened like a maw leading to the barracks while the bonfire flared at our backs. His eyes were piercing and unnerving through his war hardened face, his grey armour baring the mark of the Iron Guard on his chest plate.
“Formation!” he bellowed, the sneer twisting his grey-streaked beard.
Iron Guard soldiers closed in from the edges of the clearing, some with orange or yellow bands strapped tight around their biceps.
They barked orders and shoved initiates into place, driving us into harsh, orderly rows.
“The Gods have deemed you worthy of Ascension!” his voiced echoed, and the initiates around me clapped and cheered.
“Don’t celebrate too soon. The Gods chose you, but I haven’t yet. Weakness festers. It’s my job to cut it out before it spreads. If your Sanctum does not reveal itself in the first two weeks, I will sacrifice you to the Gods myself.” Muttering broke out around us.
“Quiet!” his voice boomed across the clearing, and silence followed.
“Seventy-five of you survived out of the two hundred that jumped. A record high. You will be divided into squads; a sergeant and a corporal will help you acclimate. Welcome to the Iron Guard, where fear is forged into obedience, and mercy dies.”
One-hundred and twenty-five innocent lives lost to feed Gods who don’t care about us.
“What a morbid speech,” Riven muttered under his breath.
Commander Kragthorne unrolled a parchment, his gauntleted fingers scraping against the brittle edges.
He called each name like a demand, the sound carrying over the crash of the waves.
At every summons, a ranking Iron Guard stepped forward to claim the initiate, pulling them into squads of seven, the bands on their biceps catching the firelight.
It seemed that the sergeants wore a yellow band and the corporals had orange.
“Lyra Meridian.” I looked up to see Commander Kragthornes eyebrows bunch together as he stared at me with shock.
I swallowed hard and stepped forward, the feeling of everyone’s eyes crushing down on me made me feel naked.
“First Squad.”
I was ushered towards two initiates that stood to the side of the clearing, two higher-ranking officers standing behind them. I inwardly groaned when I saw that Orin was one of them. Two more initiates joined us, and I breathed a sigh of relief to have Riven and Dreya in my squad.
“You will answer to your sergeant. If they tell you to do something and you disobey, they have my blessing to kill you themselves. Now, get out of my sight, training begins at dawn.”
I could feel the weight of Orin’s presence behind me, and I inwardly cursed the Gods. Whoever had put me in this squad wanted me to suffer.