Chapter 18
Chapter
Eighteen
ARA
“Summer and Vaccari.” Arkwright goes on reading from his list of pairings for sparring, but my gaze locks on Livia, and I groan internally. Dammit.
“Just what I need, someone trying to poke holes in my body,” I mutter, which earns me concerned glances from Calix and Mariel.
I smile at them reassuringly before I head over to Livia, who is already waiting, glaring and tapping her foot.
“I’ll end you, Summer,” she says as a greeting.
“Then let’s see what you’ve got,” I taunt her. I eye the fresh markings running down her arm, and I’m glad that using our gifts is prohibited. I have no idea what hers is, and I’m still far from controlling mine.
She comes at me hard the second Arkwright gives the go. The impact of her strike vibrates down my arm when I meet her blade with mine, stopping her from cutting me open.
She’s out for blood, and I don’t go easy on her either.
We exchange blows while circling each other like crows ready to feast, always looking for the one weakness that would give us the upper hand. The room around us falls away.
This is more than just sparring. Her expression and movements tell me that if I give her the slightest chance, she will make good on her promise. I’m not going to.
The longer our fight lasts, the more desperate Livia seems, like ending me is vital to her. She grows angrier with every feint I call and every attack I stop. Soon, she starts spouting insults under her breath.
Not loud enough for others to hear over the commotion, but I have the eerie feeling I’ve heard those words before.
A headache starts brewing, and frankly, I’ve had enough of her insults. So the next time she comes at me, instead of meeting her attack like before, I duck and slip past her, making her stumble.
She curses me, audibly this time, before lunging at me with a scream of rage. Suddenly, her image blends with another, one set against a background of trees swaying in the wind. Distracted, I react just a smidge too late, and I know I won’t parry in time.
I drop instead, rolling to avoid her blade, bringing myself into a vulnerable position. I twist and scramble back when her sword comes down again. There is a slight sting down my side where she grazes me. But she mostly missed.
I jump up and jerk my blade up, stopping her next slash, only to stumble back when her fist lashes out and hits my cheek with enough force to stun me.
I blink, trying to get rid of the black spots obscuring my view.
There is the whisper of steel on leather, and something grazes my side.
I brace for the pain that’s sure to come, but instead, I’m pushed aside by a big body, steel clanging against steel, before gentle hands pull me aside.
“Jealousy doesn’t look good on you, Vaccari.” Calix chuckles. “And I hate to disappoint you. As enticing as your suggestions sound, I neither had her alone nor shared her with Kyronos and Cassius. But do tell me more of your fantasies.”
“Are you alright?” Mariel inquires, still gripping my arms. I shake my head to clear it, only to follow up with a nod when her brow furrows.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I reassure her, gingerly moving my jaw from side to side and prodding at my face.
No blood, so at least that is something.
I shift, and the sting at my side reminds me of the blade that caught me there.
Not too much blood , I amend my previous statement, when I inspect the shallow cut. It’s more of a scratch.
“You should go see the healers,” Mariel suggests, but I wave her off.
“I’ve had worse.”
“We don’t get caught up in a fight emotionally,” Arkwright’s stern voice comes down at Livia. “Neither during training nor combat.” He shakes his head at her. “I don’t want to see…” He goes on in his lecture, but I tune him out.
My face hurts. My whole damn head hurts. When he’s done, he comes over to me, looking me over.
“Head to the healing quarters, Summer,” he instructs and dismisses me. My head is killing me by now, so the last thing I want is to wrangle my gift down so a healer can do his work. I head to Mariel’s and my room instead.
I kick the door closed behind me and only remove my boots before lying down on my bed.
The images of Livia dance through my mind, as well as her insults.
Did I run into Livia during Picking? And had it been before or after I met up with Calix and Mariel?
Was it her I fought, or is my imagination filling her in since she is the most likely candidate?
“What do you think?” I ask Solaris, replaying the image again. “Do you think I just made it up, or did it happen?”
“It doesn’t matter. The way she came at you today, I’d say, let’s just dispose of her and be done with it.”
I laugh softly at his suggestion, but he isn’t wrong. If her actions today are anything to go by, it may come down to that.
“Shit, that looks like it hurts.” Those are Mariel’s first words the following morning. A look in the mirror shows me what she’s talking about. My right cheek has taken on different shades of purple and looks worse than it feels. I shrug.
“It’s not too bad.” I lift my pillow and peek under my bed. “Have you seen my dagger? The one my father gave me,” I elaborate when she frowns at me.
Realization brightens her face, and she helps with the search, but despite looking everywhere, the dagger remains missing. We have to leave, or we’ll be late.
“We’ll find it,” she assures me while we walk down the corridor, and her gaze catches on my face again.
“If you hurry, you can make it to the healers between our run and breakfast,” Mariel suggests, but I shake my head.
I have no desire to have a healer’s hands on me this morning either, and it doesn’t inconvenience me. Who cares how it looks?
It seems the answer to that is more than I thought. Calix promises retribution when he sees me, Joel looks ready to explode, and Tate…
I’m startled by the anger washing over Tate’s features when our eyes meet on my way to class. They just got back from patrol. He is still in his dusty armor and his hair windswept.
He stalks toward me, his mood radiating out like a pulsing storm. What have I done now to draw his anger?
Since I’m not in the mood to deal with him, I turn around and make my way down the corridor. Not running, but accelerating my steps when he comes closer. A hand clamps down on my arm, and my momentum swings me around.
“What?” I hiss.
He doesn’t say anything, only clamps my chin in his hand and tilts my head, his eyes zeroing in on my cheek. And I remember the bruise.
“Let me go,” I demand. “I don’t need your help.”
“Do I need to hold you down this time?” he replies.
My eyebrows jump up. “What?”
“I think I made my view on risking others because you are too proud to ask for help very clear, haven’t I?” he growls.
“It’s just a bruise. That’s not—”
“Shut up and hold still for a second, would you?”
“No, I will not. You—”
That’s as far as I get before invisible hands hold me in place, gentle but firm, and when I try to speak, I can’t.
Oh, he did not.
But no matter how much I try, I can’t move. His hands frame my face lightly along my jaw. And the gesture, combined with his magic flowing into me, feels too intimate, too damn familiar … too good. Heat rushes through me. And maybe it’s a good thing I can’t move since my body gravitates toward him.
How dare he make me feel this way?
I want to push him away, lash out at him, anything to cut this connection. Only I can’t move a damn finger.
I narrow my eyes at him, but he doesn’t even blink. Asshole.
When he’s done, he takes a step back before releasing me.
“The next time you force your magic on me like this, I’ll stab you,” I hiss as soon as I’m free.
“A funny way of saying thank you,” he remarks dryly.
“Why would I thank you if you gave me no choice, Tate?”
“I wouldn’t have to if you would take care of yourself. A unit is only as strong as its weakest…”
“Are you calling me weak?” I hiss, but he goes on like I didn’t say a thing.
“Member. And it was more than a bruise. The slash was already infected.” He glares at me.
“And why the fuck would you care?”
“I—” Tate starts, then shakes his head. “I need all of you alive and healthy for the trials. You know that.” He pauses. “Looks like Fred thoroughly changed your image of me,” he adds quietly before he turns and walks away without a backward glance.
My heart constricts painfully, and I breathe past the lump in my throat. Damn him.
I start walking, only to realize I’m headed in the wrong direction. I squeeze my eyes shut and take a deep breath. I can’t let him affect me like this.
“Oh, you went to the healing quarter,” Mariel comments once I fall into my seat between her and Calix. I don’t correct her since I wouldn’t even know where to start.
I do my best to pay attention while Sanders goes through different flight formations and their use in combat, but my thoughts drift off again and again, replaying the earlier situation… Had there been concern in his eyes? Was that sadness in his voice when he said Frederick changed my image of him?
Argh. All this second-guessing shit is driving me insane. When did my life become so muddled? Action and reaction, that is my way of living, not turning in dizzying circles.
I force my attention back to Sanders because, dammit, I really should pay attention.
“Relax, I’m listening,” Solaris assures me, then snorts. “If we do that, our partner would not appreciate it.”
I look up. Sanders explains a maneuver that would put us in very close proximity to another bird and its rider—not for long, but I see the problem.
“I don’t think that was drawn up with Phoenixes in mind,” I tell him.
“Shortsighted planning,” he comments. “Don’t you think it strange that a human teaches flight maneuvers when he doesn’t even have wings?”
“Oh, would you like to teach this class then?” I ask dryly.
“Yes, let’s ask him … you could do the talking, and we could incorporate demonstrations, and—”