Chapter 7
Shifting Tides
Sarina and I finished eating lunch together in the courtyard to the tune of nearby crickets. She offered me her bread roll, explaining they upset her stomach.
Despite myself, I liked her. She had already memorized every piece of this morning's lesson, while I was still reminding myself of the different precipitation types.
“I’d rather eat rocks than do Fitness training this afternoon with Instructor Tyrell,” Sarina confessed.
“Which one is Tyrell, again?” I picked at my fish, trying to separate the bones from the flesh. I knew exactly which one Instructor Tyrell was, but there was no reason to make it obvious that we knew each other. Maybe he’d treat me like every other trainee.
Fat chance, but a girl had to hope.
Sarina gave me an incredulous look. “Zevrial Tyrell? The only person who has survived being alone on an outer isle?” I shook my head, that didn't ring any bells. But also, this was an opportunity to gather more information about him.
Sarina was more social than me, and she’d already made fast friends with many other trainees.
They had to be the source of her gossip.
“The orphan prodigy?” I shook my head again.
She threw her hands up. “The man who almost got himself kicked outta Voyager training before graduating? Dark hair, bedroom eyes, brooding eyebrows, body art for days?”
“Ooooh.” I pretended I’d just put it together.
My mind conjured up a memory of those bedroom eyes and I stabbed at another piece of fish, frustrated with the feelings they elicited.
There had to be a way to weasel out of dealing with him again.
I rubbed irritably at the spot on my chest where Skinscript still remained.
It had been several days now, and it hadn’t faded at all.
Had his? “You’ll do great.” I assured her, chewing her sacrificed bread roll.
“You qualified, so you’ll be capable of whatever training he has planned, too. ”
She picked at her remaining food. “You’re probably right. We made it this far, we’ll be fine.” She glanced up. “We should get going, the training starts in a few minutes.”
The Fitness center had a larger interior than I expected, segmented by fiber-mesh screens.
The walls were lined with equipment I'd never seen before, everything from ornate bows to resin coated harpoons and gleaming knives.
All of the weaponry was held by thick sprawling vines that draped down from the walls.
Unlike the courtyard, the fresh salty smell of the air from outside was overpowered by the sour flavor of sweat.
Limey light spilled through the bamboo stalks flanking the window, saturating the room in a chartreuse tint.
Zevrial was wearing a training jerkin today, his hard lines juxtaposed against the curving wrinkles in the fabric. It accentuated his muscles in ways that left my mouth dry.
One of the other trainees frowned at Sarina as she and I entered. “Weren’t you just here?”
“Nah, I was at lunch with Lisia.” She frowned back.
“Must be all the new faces.” He shrugged.
“Today, we're doing calisthenics,” Zevrial called out.
I smirked. Calisthenics was basically all I'd done in my spare time while in the Reformatory, training would be easy. His gaze snagged on mine, and he smirked at me, which made my smile drop.
“But with an added twist. Since I already know you all are in great shape, we'll be adding these,” he held up a rope that was interwoven with rocks. “We’ll use them as belts today, and later this week we'll use them as bracelets and anklets too.”
How heavy could they be?
Almost as if he'd heard the thought, he dropped the belt on the ground and a nebulaic plume of grit billowed up from the rattling impact.
Well, that answers that.
“Since you haven’t had lessons in knot-tying yet, I'll secure these to you before we begin to ensure no one injures themselves with an improperly tied belt. Today we’ll be trying for thirty push ups while wearing these.
The goal is no injuries, not fifty push ups.
I'll be monitoring, so call out if you need help. Form an orderly line and I will attach belts to each of you.”
Slowly, a line formed. I made it a point to be at the end of it, as far away from Zevrial as possible. The idea of him wrapping anything around me had my heartbeat stuttering, and I hated my traitorous body for its reaction to him. I still didn’t know what the Skinscript on my chest did, or meant.
As he knotted a belt around everyone in front of me, I paid attention to where his hands went, and where they didn't.
Pulling in a breath, I steeled myself as the line moved forward.
He had infected me with an unapproved unknown Skinscript. Keeping a professional distance between us was smart, because he was my Instructor, and dangerous. And I didn't have a reference to gauge how dangerous.
This would be strictly ordinary training. Why was I even entertaining the delusion that anything improper might happen?
My brain helpfully supplied a memory of his low purr of 'Challenge accepted', alongside the image of him tipping my chin up as he leaned toward me.
I'd clearly been in the Reformatory for too long. He was just an attractive man, and I hadn't been alone around one in a while.
Convinced of myself, I stepped up without hesitating when I reached the front of the line.
Zevrial was smiling, and I almost sighed with relief. Then the glint in his devil-may-care eyes returned.
“I have decided to figure it out,” he declared, his voice soft and low as he retrieved another belt.
“Figure what out?”
He tilted his head, scratching at his chest, the exact location both of our glyphs rested. At least that answered the question of whether his Skinscript had faded. “You know what. You'll need to turn around,” he drawled, holding up the last rope-belt.
At that moment all of my rationalizations vanished, and I panicked. I would do anything not to put my back to this man. Anything to maintain some much needed distance as my internal temperature spiked.
“Oh no, that's fine, I can wrap it around myself,” I argued, reaching for it.
His expression went from benign to amused, as he tugged the belt out of my reach. “I insist.”
I clamped down on my rioting hormones. He had done this to almost a hundred other trainees, everything would be fine. This was no big deal. Sure, he hadn't said more than ten words to the lot of them, but that didn't mean anything.
Clenching my teeth, I turned my back to him.
Immediately I regretted it, as the warmth of his chest pressed up against my back. It was solid and hard and the way he had fit himself against my backside while his arm came around me with the belt was erotic and all kinds of inappropriate.
He was an Instructor, I reminded myself, even as I tried not to fixate on every inch of him pressed against me. My pulse was a dizzy whir in my ears, faster than it had been during the Mistrun.
“Hold still, jail-bait,” he whispered into the shell of my ear. My attention zeroed in on the warmth of his hand as it lazily slid over my waist. His hand, which was lower than it had been on anyone else.
“I am not jail-bait,” I hissed through gritted teeth. Air rushed in as his other hand brushed up against my hip when he reached around my other side.
The gasp left in a puff when he cinched the rock belt tight at my waist, forcing my back flush to his chest as he did.
This had to be illegal.
“No, you're definitely worse,” he agreed, dexterous fingers tying off the knot against my spine. His handspan was huge. He could reach from one end of my waist to the other with one hand alone if he laid it flat.
“And just how are you planning to figure anything out?” I gritted.
“I have some ideas,” he murmured.
I tried to pull away as soon as some slack loosened the belt, but he held fast. “Make sure you do all thirty push-ups, I'll be counting.”
I half-stumbled forward when he released me, refusing to give him the satisfaction of looking back at him as I rushed to the other end of the Fitness center. Fortunately, it didn’t seem like anyone was paying attention to our interaction.
Though I didn't look back at him once for the remainder of the training, his heated gaze was like a physical touch on me.
As he milled about correcting the posture of other trainees, I held myself to a textbook standard so he would have no reason to come near, all the way until I completed my final set.
Rather than risk further humiliation, I twisted the belt around to my front, undid the complicated knot, dropped it onto the ground, and fled. Like the coward I was.
Still, I felt him watching me.