Chapter 17
Battle Of The Roses
Even though Chasin had claimed her for Eclipse banner, he wasn’t there to train her when she got back.
But Cairn was.
And Cairn was a dick.
She had released her second sight as soon as she left Brightfort, returning to blindness to conserve her energy.
Cairn was waiting for her in the courtyard, grumbling about how he didn’t have the time to be waiting around for “annoying little recruits.” He said nothing about the fact that Prince Ceran had escorted her to the gate, bowing over her hand as he bid her farewell, and bestowing a light kiss on her fingers.
Cairn only grumbled and griped, marching her into the arena. She heard some soldiers chuckle and mutter as they passed, turning to follow them. That didn’t seem like a good sign—that they presumed this would be an entertaining thing to watch.
Cairn led her to a stone section of the arena instead of a sand section. That also seemed like a bad sign, as she could hear the other recruits sparring elsewhere, and the sounds of their bodies impacting the ground as they were lectured on proper technique.
Cairn told her to stand still, as their small audience got settled in the stands—still chuckling—and then he sent his cane sweeping across her stomach without warning, knocking her back onto her ass.
The men watching began to laugh. Maybe it was how quiet they still were, compared to the other soldiers she could hear around the arena, or maybe it was the fact that Cairn was allowing them to be there, but something told her they were Eclipse bannermen.
“Good, just checking,” Cairn grunted.
Checking that she was properly blind again.
She only wheezed in response, feeling around for her dropped cane.
“There are special abilities that come with disabilities,” he told her, as he helped her to her feet. “Losing functionality in one part of your body will force your body and mind to compensate. Losing your vision, for example, will sharpen your other senses. But you already know that.”
He snatched her cane away just as she managed to steady herself. He pushed a wooden staff into her hands and then sent his cane clanging against it, making the wood tremble and vibrate painfully in her hands.
She had been having such a nice morning. Stuffing her face with cake and being smirked at by a very handsome prince, while she had a minor, contained breakdown inside her mind.
Cairn swept her feet out from under her, barking at her to pay attention.
And that was how she spent her day.
Getting knocked onto her ass until she was bruised on every part of her body, and bleeding from a split lip.
She could hear the other recruits training with their section leaders—though she couldn’t make out Alessandra or Ilara’s voice amongst the fray, so it seemed the banner captains were busy with other duties. It didn’t sound like the other recruits were being beaten with canes.
It sounded like they were being given useful instruction and guidance on how to grapple and gain the upper hand. Eiko hadn’t even been given a real weapon. She was convinced the staff had been put into her hands only to make her hands ache and blister as Cairn repeatedly struck it.
When the sun finally set, Cairn banished her to the library to study her night away.
Her friends snuck in with her dinner tray so that she didn’t have to eat alone, but then Eiko was forced to send them away so that she could properly utilise the brief surge of energy the food had given her to cram as much information into her brain as she could, before she burned out again.
It took her almost all night, but finally, she managed to piece together what Chasin had forced her to sign before feeding her the fake antidote. She had sketched out the signs on a piece of parchment, the translation scratched below, her handwriting absolutely atrocious.
I. Belong. To. You.
She stared at the “oath” he had forced her to say and tried to make sense of it.
He must have lied—there was no way he made all of his Eclipse men sign that to him.
Maybe it was another test, to see if she secretly understood his language, or maybe it was something more.
A petty little power play after the argument he had just had with his father.
The longer she tried to puzzle it out, the less sense it made, until she had no choice but to disregard it completely and return to her studies.
She woke in the morning with her head on the desk and her second sight refusing to swim back into focus.
I think you overdid it, Hymn told her. And you bled all over the book.
She sighed, pushing up from the desk and scrubbing at her cheeks.
Dried flakes of blood sanded across her skin, peeling off and sticking to her fingers.
She kept her head down and hurried back to the top floor of the barracks, stopping by her room to grab a fresh uniform before making a beeline for the washroom.
Once safely tucked into a shower cubicle, she finally turned her face up again and stepped beneath a scalding spray of water, groaning softly as the heated rush washed over her aches and bruises.
She scrubbed at her cheeks again until she was sure all signs of blood had been removed, and then she dragged herself from the shower and dressed in fresh clothes.
She couldn’t feel any poison working in her system, screaming for its daily antidote, but she wasn’t going to take any chances, so she made her way back down to Chasin’s office and knocked on the door.
“Recruit.” It was Alessandra’s voice that followed the opening of the door.
Did I get the office wrong?
No, Hymn reassured her.
“Are you going to move?” Alessandra asked dryly.
“Oh, right, sorry.” Eiko quickly stepped out of the way, listening as the other woman’s graceful footsteps retreated down the hallway.
Chasin tapped against something wooden. From the sound and location, she figured he was sitting at his desk, so she quickly shut the door, wondering why her hands were shaking—because last time he poisoned you, idiot—and approached him.
She heard him stand and round the desk, which could only mean he wanted her to hear it, and then suddenly her blood was cold, and it was hard to breathe again.
He had stepped close. He was so close she could feel the heat of his body, despite the chill he inspired in her veins.
He must have been leaning against the edge of the desk right in front of her.
Suddenly, she felt the cold kiss of glass against her cheek, and then a little cork stopper briefly pressed into her lower lip.
Real or fake?
She had no idea.
She tried to take the vial, but of course, he pulled it away from her.
He waited, and the longer he waited, the more dread she began to feel. She had a sneaking suspicion she knew what he wanted from her, but now that she was aware of the meaning of the words he had forced her to sign the day before, she suddenly wasn’t so eager to express them again.
Still, he waited.
The silence stretched until it became a thing with weight, pressing in on her ears, her ribs, the back of her throat.
She could hear his breathing, slow and controlled, and the faint shift of leather as he adjusted his stance.
The fact that she could hear it at all made her think he wanted her to know just how utterly unhurried and comfortable he was.
She swallowed.
“I’m not saying it,” she whispered.
He leaned closer, looming over her until his lips were right by her ear. “Then no antidote.”
“Is this another trick?”
His fingers brushed her chest, and he signed a single word, simple enough that she could feel the shape of it.
No.
He lifted her hands. A silent demand.
I don’t think we can risk it, Hymn whispered, hiding behind her ribcage as he always did, though he had briefly fled down to her ankle when Chasin signed against her chest. It makes sense that he would use poison to force you back to him every day during the first week of your Silencing, especially considering … you know.
That you’re a bloodthirsty city-swallower? she asked.
Yeah, that. Anyway, I think it makes more sense that he would poison you and force these check-ins.
He could have just asked me to come see him every morning, she groused.
We’ve been over this already yesterday with your friends, he placated gently. This way, you won’t try to escape the barracks, putting the whole city at risk. He’s keeping the threat contained, and keeping an eye on you, and testing you.
She had discussed the situation with the others over dinner in the library, and they had all agreed that it would be best if she didn’t try to challenge the commander on this, but that was easier said than done.
She scowled, and the cork stopper of the vial traced the line of her mouth, almost like he was questioning her expression.
“How did you figure out what it means?” Chasin’s whisper was low, right by her ear again, so quiet she had to strain to hear it.
“I asked someone,” she lied. “Obviously. How else?”
He shifted back just enough that the pressure of him eased from her lungs. The leather of his uniform whispered, followed by the faint scrape of glass.
He took her hands again, but this time, he didn’t wait.
He guided her into forming the words he wanted.
Slow and precise. Patient in a way that felt innately threatening instead of soothing.
He shaped her fingers, corrected her angle, and pressed where she hesitated, until the signs were unmistakable, burned into muscle memory whether she wanted them there or not.
I.
Belong.
To.
You.
The last sign lingered. His thumb rested at the base of her palm. She didn’t understand, but he made the slightest rumbling sound that felt like approval.
“Why are you doing this?” she asked.
He didn’t answer, and she heard the scraping of glass again before he pushed the vial into her hand.
He signed something against her chest. Probably drink or swallow. Or heck, it could have been wench for all she knew. It definitely wasn’t maim, flay, or burn.