Chapter 7 #3
“Yeah,” I said quietly, handing her the water.
We lay down again, her head resting against my shoulder.
After a moment, my voice dropped lower. “Honestly, I don’t know, Jas.
This is… new for me. I don’t know how to comfort people.
Compassion wasn’t exactly taught in my house.
” My hand traced slow circles across her back, more for my own grounding than hers.
“What I don’t understand is why her father even sent her here. ”
“Maybe he saw something in her,” Jasmine murmured, already drifting toward sleep.
“Maybe,” I said, staring at the ceiling.
“Or perhaps he knows something the rest of us don’t.
” The thought settled heavily in my chest. Guilt flickered, sharp and unwelcome, like a blade pressing just beneath my ribs.
For a brief moment, I let it surface. Acknowledged the difference.
Then I shut it down. I turned toward Jasmine, tightened my arm around her, pulling her closer until her warmth drowned everything else out.
The doubt. The guilt. The truth. By the time sleep took me, I’d convinced myself it didn’t matter.
The next morning, after our run and third-year sparring, I crossed the courtyard to head to the Trifecta when I spotted Alaric.
He carried an armful of books, his stride confident, shoulders a little too tight.
Light brown hair buzzed close to his scalp caught the morning sun, leaving the strong lines of his face exposed.
He had our father’s eyes, bright blue and unguarded, too honest for a place like this. The same stubborn set to his jaw.
But he’d never learned to hide what he felt the way I had.
When he was younger, he’d give up before the end of training.
Our father never tolerated that. So, I’d stayed behind, taken the extra drills.
The extra laps. The extra blows. It was easier if the disappointment landed on me.
Father had expected more from me, anyway.
I fell into step beside him. Technically, he was mine to oversee, though second years were more focused on studies and magic than sparring.
“Hey, Al,” I greeted, glancing at the stack.
“Hey, Aid.” He gave me a quick smile, shifting the books against his chest.
“How’s the studying going?”
He shrugged. “It’s fine. Mostly boring.”
“Yeah,” I muttered. “Second year wasn’t exactly my favorite, either.” I nudged his arm.
His eyes flicked to me. “How’s Ryn doing with the Trifecta?”
The question pulled a sigh from me. “Not great. She keeps falling off the fourth tier every time.”
Alaric frowned, worry plain on his face. “She’ll make it, though… right?” For a second, I considered lying. Saying yes. Making it easier for him. But I wasn’t built for that.
“Honestly?” I said. “I don’t know. I told her to use her head. Whether she listens is up to her.” Before he could respond, Brandon cut across the path, matching my stride.
“Yo, Aid. You taking your unit to the Trifecta this morning?”
“Yeah, they should be there already.” I turned back to Al.
“Don’t stress too much. I’ll catch up with you later.
” I flicked the familiar two-finger swirl, our old check-in from childhood.
He returned it awkwardly, books in the way.
Still, I caught the tension in his jaw. He was worried about Ruin. And he had reason to be.
Brandon and I pushed through the hall toward the training field. “How’s your unit holding up?” I asked.
“Decent. Got some bloodthirsty first-years, though. Already lost five from sparring,” he said, shaking his head.
“Damn.” My gaze slid automatically to the course.
“I’ve lost three. Mostly clumsy blade work.
” My eyes scanned the trifecta, finding her instantly.
Blonde hair. Fire. Rynlee was on the second tier, leaping between moving stones with practiced ease.
There was confidence in her movements, reckless, forward-driving, the same refusal to slow down that always got her into trouble.
She reached the third tier, hauling herself up, body trembling but unyielding.
Gods, she had no idea when to stop. A third year jogged up beside me.
“Unit Leader Dagon. Commander Dagon is back. He wants to see you.” Of course he did.
Right when my unit was here. Right when she was.
My eyes locked onto the course again. Rynlee dragged herself higher, breath ragged, still refusing to quit.
I already knew how this ended: she’d rush, slip, and drop into the net.
Again. Part of me wanted to stay. The rest of me knew better.
The commander’s summons weren’t optional.
And if my father was calling me in, it meant something mattered.
Especially if he’d just returned from the capital.
“I’ll be back,” I muttered to Brandon, tearing my gaze away.
“If anyone dies, let me know.” The words were flat.
Automatic. I turned and walked off, shadows curling tight around my heels, restless and sharp.
The entire walk across the courtyard, my mind split in two, half sharpening into suspicion over what my father wanted, the other half still on the Trifecta.
And for a brief, unwanted moment, I found myself hoping, not that she’d succeed. Just that she wouldn’t fall.