CHAPTER 5
I tried to run anyway.
I spun on my heel and sprinted for the door.
Kilian groaned behind me, but I didn’t chance a glance back. My feet skidded on the polished floor, and I clawed at the doorframe before hurtling out of the mess hall and into the corridor.
There were no pounding footsteps behind me – or maybe I couldn’t hear them over the blood rushing in my ears.
I tripped at the end of the corridor, arms flinging forward to grasp at a banister. Then I was bolting down the staircase. I didn’t have a second to consider where I might be going, only believed that if I reached the bottom, I’d surely end up outside.
My breaths came out short and sharp as I ran, my hand grasping the banister.
I glanced over my shoulder, panicked, but the staircase was empty.
I paused for a second to catch my breath. And then I continued, a bit slower this time, my ears straining for any sound.
When I reached the bottom of the stairwell, I cracked open the door and peered out. A blast of cold air immediately hit me, and I shivered, my teeth chattering. The interior of the house was definitely temperature regulated because it was freezing outside.
Stone pillars were the first thing I saw.
The ground was a checkered slab of white marble and gray granite, and large columns towered at regular intervals on the outer edges.
I peered up at the ceiling where a fresco of a battle scene was depicted in great detail.
From what I could see, there was a courtyard beyond. It was empty.
I still didn’t know what I would even do if I escaped, but I’d consider it afterward. If I managed to make it through the courtyard.
I steeled myself to make a mad dash for it.
I made it to the pillars before a set of arms wrenched me back and, quite literally, off the ground.
“Let me go!” I yelled. My words echoed off the columns and bled out into the vacant courtyard.
“Every decade, one of you tries to run,” Kilian muttered. “That one has, in fact, become a bet. And I’ve had my money on you since I first saw you.”
I squirmed in his arms, grunting as I tried to free myself from his iron grip.
“What’s your plan?” His voice was at my ear.
“Like I’d fucking tell you.” I tried jabbing at his ribs but only met solid armor.
He snorted. “You can’t because you don’t have one.”
My fingers closed around the hilt of something strapped at his side. I couldn’t see what I was drawing out of its sheath, but it felt light enough to be a dagger. “I have a plan. It starts with killing you.”
I thrust blindly, aiming for whatever flesh I could find, and hitting metal instead.
Kilian’s hand clamped over mine and he twisted my wrist. It didn’t hurt but the angle loosened my grip, and he easily yanked the blade from me.
“With my own weapon, no less?” He tutted. “How original.”
“I’m making the most with what I have at my disposal. It’s called being resourceful.”
“Ah, I see. I imagine this resourcefulness will come in handy when you’re out in Lortan, struggling to find shelter and food that won’t poison you?”
“That’s my problem. Not yours.”
“I hate to break it to you, but once you accepted the oath, you became my problem.”
“So unlink us then. Problem fucking solved.”
“I can’t. It’s binding. You accepted it.”
“That was before I knew how invasive it would be. I had no choice.”
“Semantics. It’s too late to back out now. Bad things happen to those who break oaths.”
I gave one more shove at his arms.
He released me.
I stumbled forward, clutching at the nearest pillar to steady myself.
Kilian passed by casually, dagger in hand. A glint of red caught my eye and my jaw dropped. “That’s my dagger.”
“Is it?” he asked mildly.
“Yes.” The fucking audacity. I was a hairsbreadth away from stomping my foot in rage. “Give it back!”
“I quite like it.”
“It’s mine!”
“How about we make a deal? You go back inside, like a good candidate, and I’ll return the dagger?”
My eyes narrowed. “You can’t make deals over things that don’t belong to you.”
He waved a haphazard hand. “My house, my rules.”
Anger swelled like a rising tide, swift and brutal. “I’m not going anywhere.”
He turned to look at me. He spread his arms wide. “Where else will you go?”
I stepped off the marble and granite. Cold air kissed my cheeks and my gaze flitted around the surroundings.
Snowy summits enclosed us, bleak, white and endless. Valhan House was nestled somewhere in between two slopes and was imposing in both size and structure. It was triple the size of the governor’s house in Serila and striking in its architecture, grandiose like something reminiscent of another time.
I swallowed, turning back to find Kilian staring at me.
“I don’t know. Maybe I’ll be lucky and find someone who’ll help me survive. The elven can’t all be soulless monsters like you.”
His ensuing huff could have been construed as laughter. “None of them will help you. They’re all as invested in the outcome of the Trials as I am.”
“Why?” I glared at him.
He gave me a bored look. “Because they care about saving the world.”
My lip curled. Of course he was going to give me some sarcastic, illogical response.
“We’re wasting time out here,” he drawled. “Everyone else has already started on the training, so if you’re done trying to escape, can we go back inside?”
I pressed my lips together, trying to figure out my next course of action. How I might wrest my dagger from him and drive it into his nearest artery. I was enraged at how absolutely powerless I was over the situation. I had zero control over what happened to me, or when it happened.
Even if I did somehow manage to get away, Kilian was right.
Where would I sleep tonight? The air was so frigid I feared I might become hypothermic if I stayed out in the courtyard for another few minutes.
What would I eat? Elven food was toxic to the mortal digestive system.
I’d be dead in minutes. In fact, I was struggling to come up with a solution that did not result in me dying in minutes.
The glaringly obvious one was, of course, returning inside and continuing with the Trials.
“Your lips are turning blue,” Kilian remarked.
My teeth clattered against each other, and I just barely resisted rubbing my hands over the thin fabric of my long sleeve.
“You’re not going to make me haul you over my shoulder and carry you back inside, are you?”
The fight sizzled out of me. Icy cold seeped into my bones and lodged itself in my marrow. My survival instincts shuffled around, recognizing not freezing to death as an immediate priority.
I crossed to him and reached for my dagger. To my surprise, he didn’t resist. I stared at him warily as I sheathed it into my belt loop.
“Come on, then,” he said, like I was a sheep he was herding back into its pen.
I’d tried to escape, but I knew a lost cause when I saw one. The cards had never been stacked in my favor.
Sighing, I started back toward the house.
Kilian Valhan faced me across the rubber mat, his arms folded casually across his wide chest.
We were in the sparring room. The other candidates and their instructors were posed similarly. In the time that I had spent freezing out in the courtyard with Kilian, they had begun their training.
“How much fighting experience do you have?” Kilian asked, his question drawing me back to our mat, the pent-up tension bottled in my shoulders. My fingers flexed, aching to hit him now that I’d thawed out.
“Not much. I am pretty handy with a knife, though. Would you like me to demonstrate how well I can cut?” I said sweetly.
“As enticing as that sounds, I don’t think we have time for knife play.”
I flushed. That was not what I meant, and he knew it.
“You may be surprised to find that having less training might work to your advantage, though,” Kilian continued.
“It means you won’t have to unlearn any bad habits.
Start with your feet shoulder-width apart, your left foot slightly back.
Further… Yes. And don’t keep it so straight, you want to be standing at a nice thirty-degree angle. ”
Gods, he was bossy.
“Keep your hands near your face. Your fists and legs are your best weapons in close combat. You want to keep your face, ribs and torso protected at all times. And you want to aim for an opponent’s face, ribs and torso, because that’s where they’ll be aiming on you.
I’m going to show you a basic block and dodge before we get into attacking. ”
He stepped closer to me and large hands encircled my wrists.
A tingle of warmth fizzled beneath his touch, zinging like the current from the oath.
He maneuvered my fists in front of my face, fingers sliding down my arms to direct my elbows.
He showed me several positions to block my ribs and sides, all complicated contortions my limbs were completely unused to.
“Stop looking at me like that and pay attention,” he snapped.
“Like what?”
He leveled me with a cool stare. “Like you want to hit me.”
“I do.”
“You’ll get a chance once you’ve proven you can block and dodge.” He took a step back, taking up the same stance he had just shown me.
And then he lunged. Quick as a whip, he slammed out with his palm, and I was never going to be ready for it.
My movements were clumsy and unpracticed, and he landed a solid jab to my ribs.
Not enough to break them, but hard enough to send the message that he clearly could if he wanted to.
The force sent me skidding along the rubber mat, and I stumbled backward, clutching at my bruised side.
“Again,” he ordered.
I dragged my feet along the mat into position once more, shaping my arms so they blocked my ribs and face.
He darted swiftly, muscled arm reaching out to swat the side of my head.
My head swiveled from the impact, my ears ringing, and I fell to the ground, landing sprawled on the mat.
My ribs ached at the collision. I glared up at him, anger quickly replacing the humiliation.
“You didn’t block or dodge.” He clicked his tongue impatiently.
“You’ve had years to gain experience. It’s my first day.”