14 Worthy
Worthy
The next morning, Vaelira was grateful she had stopped at one ale.
Her head was clear, and the sky was a pale, cloudless blue.
The strange encounter still lingered at the edge of her thoughts, but Ressa and Fang’s lack of concern was some comfort.
Besides, she had more pressing concerns.
The Queen was watching her, and it was time to prove herself.
Walking into the training room, Vaelira was immediately aware that something was wrong. The recruits were lined against one wall, combat master Kolborn standing before them. Every head turned as she approached.
She caught Fang’s eye, and he dragged a finger across his throat, tongue lolling out as he let his head drop to one side. She knew he meant it as a joke, but the memory it conjured sent a shiver down her spine.
“Just the person we’ve all been waiting for,” Kolborn said.
“Sir?”
“We’re having a demonstration,” he explained. “Since you’re the first outsider we’ve had in many years, I thought you might show everyone what you’re worth.”
She’s given you a month to prove your worth.
Dread ached in her chest. This was no longer training. It was a test. One she was meant to fail. At least she now knew who was informing on her. Vaelira stepped forward, lifting her chin. “Of course.”
Kolborn’s grin widened. “I challenge you, Vaelira Tarn.”
She’d expected it, but her stomach still dropped. There was no scenario where she came out of this unscathed.
If she failed would Queen Mairese send guards to escort her back to Anhaven? Or would she be thrown from the city and expected to make the journey alone? The thought of running into that blue-eyed Wastelander alone was not a pleasant one.
Kolborn took a step forward. “No weapons.”
She unstrapped her sword. Ressa darted forward and held out a hand. Her eyes bore into Vaelira’s, as if saying, you’ve got this.
Vaelira hesitated for a heartbeat then nodded once, handing over the blade. She left the empty dagger sheath and her pouch in place, crossed the mat, and faced Kolborn. The other recruits stepped closer, circling them.
One girl whispered to another, and they both laughed. Vaelira caught two words. Prince’s whore.
Elijah had only been to the barracks once, but apparently the others hadn’t forgotten. Heat flushed her face, but she pushed it down. She stood no chance if she went in angry. Her only hope was to end it quickly.
“Someone else will have to call it,” Kolborn said, scanning the group.
There was a beat of silence. Then, someone called “begin.”
Vaelira lunged. She swept her leg low, aiming to knock him off balance, but Kolborn dodged with maddening ease, his fist already flying. The punch caught her on the jaw hard enough that her vision blurred.
“I’m disappointed, Vaelira,” he said as she hit the mat. “I expected better. Why else would you be here?”
A few people sniggered. Kolborn watched her with an eager gleam in his eye.
Vaelira pushed herself up and spat onto the mat. Her skin throbbed where his blow had landed but she shook it off, raising her fists as her lips curled into a grin. “Why don’t you find out?”
He took the bait, charging forward. She dodged and rolled, sending him stumbling. He recovered, rage flaring in his eyes. He came at her again, his skill far beyond her own.
Every opening she took was deflected, every feint read. There wasn’t a single recruit here who could beat this man, yet she was expected to do what they could not? The injustice of it all sent her temper flaring.
His fist struck her arm, the muscle there contracting painfully. He dodged her next attack, his own sweeping under her arm and striking her hard in the side. Her vision blurred, tears of rage welling. Kolborn struck out with his leg, hitting her thigh so hard she almost went down.
Her arms hung low, palms prickling with heat. She clenched her fists, tamping down the familiar surge of energy. Kolborn’s gaze flicked down, his eyes narrowing.
“You’ve got this!” Fang shouted from the edge of the mat. She didn’t, but the sentiment was appreciated.
Kolborn’s fist drove into her stomach and pain flared. The punch landed right where Kili had stitched her up only weeks ago. The memory of it made the sting worse. The fresh scar flared hot, sharp enough to buckle her legs. She crumpled, gasping as she turned onto her side, arm across her abdomen.
Kolborn crouched beside her, voice low enough that only she could hear. “It seems you’re not worth much after all,” he murmured. “Crawl back to your pitiful excuse for a town.”
Shame burned her cheeks, and she squeezed her eyes shut, focusing on getting air into her lungs.
Kolborn straightened and turned to the recruits. “Dismissed.”
Vaelira rolled onto her back, staring up at the high windows where rain tapped gently against the glass. She would lie there until everyone had left. The thought of getting up and facing them all felt like another blow.
A face appeared above her. Then another.
“Well, that was awful,” Ressa said, holding out a hand.
Vaelira took it and let herself be hauled up. “I don’t think awful covers it,” she muttered, her hand brushing the tender spot on her abdomen.
“How about nauseating? Abhorrent?” Fang offered.
Ressa scoffed.
He shrugged. “I grew up in a bookshop, remember?”
Vaelira let out a shaky breath, and a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.
“Okay, okay,” Fang continued, “How about… shit?”
“Yeah,” Vaelira said. “Shit will do.”
They headed for the courtyard. Ressa handed Vaelira her sword and she took it carefully, buckling it at her waist. Her gaze lingered on the ruby set in the pommel. “He said he wanted to see what I was worth.”
Ressa frowned. “Why?”
Vaelira didn’t look up. “Who knows. But I don’t think I convinced him. Or anyone else.”
Fang snorted. “Who gives two rats what the rest of those idiots think?”
Vaelira forced a smile, but it wasn’t the other recruits she was worried about.
After lunch, Vaelira walked to the Old Town gate to report for her first patrol duty. Her body ached, but she set her shoulders and kept her head high. She wouldn’t let it show.
Two guards stood together by the gates, heads bowed in quiet conversation. As she approached, one of them looked up.
The guard was tall, her body lean with muscle.
A golden pin fastened her cloak at her neck, the Royal Crest gleaming in the midday sun.
Her ashy hair was cropped short and swept back, her blue eyes framed by buttery lashes.
She held out a hand and Vaelira took it, her arm throbbing as the guard gave a firm shake.
“I’m Erryn,” the woman said. “I’ll be your patrol partner for the duration of your training.”
Vaelira tried to hide her surprised.
Erryn laughed kindly. “I see no one filled you in on the details,” she said. “First years are assigned to active guards for patrol. I’m yours.”
Vaelira glanced at the younger man beside her. His head was slightly bowed, but he gave her a quick nod.
“Makes sense,” Vaelira said, turning back. “I’m Vaelira.”
“I know.”
The rain had stopped. Sunlight poured over the stone walls, turning the wet cobblestones to shining silver as they stepped onto the main street.
“We’ve been assigned to the western edge of Old Town,” Erryn explained. She was almost a head taller than Vaelira, and she had to crane her neck to look up at the woman as they walked closely through the crowded street.
Vaelira had been disappointed to learn standard patrol wasn’t done on horseback. She had only managed to see Millie twice since moving into the barracks and wondered when she’d get to ride again. It seemed like she was losing her grip on anything that once felt like home.
Erryn scanned their surroundings as they walked. A calm, almost relaxed expression softened the sharp lines of her jaw and cheekbones, but her eyes told a different story, tracking every movement in the crowd.
“What’s on the western side of town?” Vaelira asked.
“The residential district and the chapel,” Erryn said. “We’re starting off easy.” She looked down at Vaelira, offering a tight-lipped smile.
Erryn seemed nice enough, but something about her set Vaelira on edge.
People bustled in and out of shops, others dragged small carts behind them, or heaved baskets filled with bundles of freshly baked breads and strong-smelling cheeses, fabrics, or whatever else they had ventured out to buy.
Children ran screaming down alleyways, their laughter echoing off the stone walls.
There must be more citizens in Old Town than in the whole of Anhaven.
Patrolling these streets wouldn’t be like it would have been back home.
A turquoise tiled spire rose around the next bend, towering above the rooftops ahead.
“Eyes sharp, recruit,” Erryn said. “Your presence should be enough, but if you don’t look like you’re paying attention, people might take advantage.”
Vaelira nodded, straightening her spine and scanning the thinning crowd.
“It’s prohibited to carry weapons in the streets, but a knife or dagger can be easily concealed,” Erryn continued.
Vaelira’s fingers twitched towards her belt, but her brother’s dagger was long gone, taken from her so easily by the raider in the woods.
A large square opened before them. Evergreen trees had been planted between the flagstones, their narrow silhouettes mirroring the spire above. Wide, shallow steps led up to iron double doors set into white walls. Citizens filtered silently in and out, heads bowed.
Stained glass windows arched high above, each individual shard depicting sunrays, mountains, rivers, and three figures, all glowing in soft green, blue and amber.
The First Three, lording over Eastvale. Compared to the modest chapel in Anhaven, this was a palace.
It could have been described as excessive, but it wasn’t. It was beautiful.
“Patrol starts here,” Erryn said. “We’ll loop the square, pass through two residential streets and return to do it again. Stay alert. No needless conversation. Any questions?”
Vaelira shook her head and they set off.