68. Loveleena
LOVELEENA
With the third assessment approaching, the air of the Academy had become suffocating. Everyone was catatonic, deep in studies at the library or huddled up in their dorms with “do not disturb” written across their door.
Loveleena wandered the halls aimlessly, dragging her feet until she had her final Trivium class.
She had ventured around the Academy and Defender Village two or three times already.
After working so hard at all her lectures and practicing her magic, she felt restless—unable to use her mind for anything of importance, yet unable to shut it off.
Walking slowly back to the castle, she thought of Park.
It had been weeks since Ren had revealed Park’s involvement in setting traitors free.
Loveleena still hadn’t had the opportunity to find out how Park had gotten involved, or why Ren was doing it in the first place.
With her new knowledge of real Jarrian history swimming in her mind, she had some guesses, could make some loose connections, but couldn't fully piece it together. The rain reminded her of all the seasons they spent hulled up at his parent’s estate.
He would draw, she would read, and together they would sit in silence while the rain pounded outside.
The memory of it alone made her heart ache for him.
But by the time she arrived at Trivium, Professor Kaplana was ushering them all out again. Kaplana had been filling in for Barrow, not giving them a moment’s peace.
“This is your last official practice opportunity before your final assessment in a few days,” she said, leading them to the Battlegrounds. Loveleena wasn’t surprised to see the rest of the first years there, all nervously preparing for whatever they were soon to face.
Torches had been lit around the outer edge of the Battlegrounds. The rain had let up a bit, leaving a muddy pit in its wake. At one end was a weapons station and a crowd of Defenders ready to spar at the other.
“Line up!” Kaplana bellowed, and Loveleena pushed her way to the front of the line until she was second only to Ahmina.
“Typical noble, pushing other people around to get what you want,” the boy behind her spat. She turned around, her blood boiling.
“What did you just say to me?”
“You heard me.”
Her magic simmered inside of her, just as angry as she was, and it begged to be released. But Ahmina’s hand fell to her shoulder, calming her. “You’re just mad she’s ages ahead of you in skill, talent, and mastery,” Ahmina shot back, and the boy shut his mouth.
“Ori,” Ren called out, and they whipped around to see him in the center of the ring. “Choose your weapon.”
Loveleena watched her sister trudge over to the weaponry, contemplating her choice. Eventually, she selected a pair of steel chakrams and faced Ren in the ring.
She was first to attack, which Ren opposed easily.
Still, Ahmina went hard, using every advantage she could to weaken him.
Ren retaliated, pushing Ahmina until her back was at the edge of the ring.
She made a last ditch attempt to catch him in the ribs but slipped in the mud, falling to her knees.
None of them were a match for Ren, but Loveleena was surprised at how much Ahmina had improved since their last Combat class.
All year, she had butter fingers, dropping every weapon, wrists snapping on every attempt to block. But now she was steady, fierce even.
Ren helped her up out of the mud, congratulating her for her efforts as he did.
“Next round,” he ordered, and Ahmina’s eyes widened.
Sacks were placed around the ring, and Ren promptly slashed one open with his dagger, letting a pile of dried plants, seeds, roots, and flowers spill out.
A Defender grabbed Rory from the line and walked her into the ring.
Ren sliced Rory’s wrist with his dagger, releasing a gush of crimson blood. Ahmina faltered as the crowd of first years gasped.
“Create a healing salve, and do it quickly before your friend bleeds out,” Ren said casually. Ahmina made a dash for the materials, searching through the pile with trembling hands.
“I’ll be so pissed if you mess this up!” Rory said, holding tightly to her wrist, blood seeping through her fingers. “Come on, Mina, you can do this.”
Ahmina found the supplies she needed, rubbing a collection of seeds against a root until they became a paste.
“Too slow, Ori,” Ren commented, and Ahmina picked up speed. But in her haste, she fumbled and dropped the seeds.
A wobbly, fading Rory caused Ahmina’s round to end. “Time’s up, Ori. Healer!” Ren ordered and an Alchemist rushed into the ring, placing a salve onto Rory’s wrist, healing it completely within seconds. Loveleena didn’t realize she had been holding her breath, and she let it out in a single gust.
“Alva!” Ren waved her into the ring. She beelined it to the weaponry, trying to calm her racing heart. She selected the sleekest sword with a rough handle as her weapon and faced Ren, gripping it tightly in combat position.
Ren attacked first. She wasn’t prepared, and just barely blocked his advance.
She quickly recovered though, slashing at his exposed side which he dodged easily.
When he advanced, she defended well, twisting and turning with each block, before catching an opening and redirecting the advance onto him.
He seemed to be putting in more effort than he had with Ahmina, and that gave her a sense of satisfaction.
Straining with exertion, she managed to cut his calf as she twisted out of his attack line.
The surprise on Ren’s face, although barely noticeable, made her feel invincible.
Her magic hummed in pleasure and a grin erupted on her face.
“Game.” Ren confirmed her pass. “Good attacks. Your defense could use improvement.” She scowled at him while he brought over a new sack, cutting open the material. She wounded Ren, and he had the nerve to say her defense could use improvement? She scoffed. “You’re such a sore loser.”
“I never lose,” Ren said. “Round two begins now.” Seconds later, Kumani was in his grasp.
His cut to her wrist looked deeper, more severe than Rory’s had, and Loveleena dropped to the ground in an instant to search for what she needed.
But this bag was significantly different from Ahmina’s, and the seed’s Ahmina used were nowhere to be found.
Loveleena fumbled with the herbs, trying to identify which ones would offer healing.
“Use the Gava root,” Kumani urged, teeth bared as she held back pain.
“Don’t help her,” Ren ordered, and Loveleena glanced at Kumani in silent thanks.
Gava root, gava root, gava root. She couldn’t find it anywhere, her hands frantically searching through the materials.
“There isn’t any here,” she gritted in frustration, mostly to herself.
Finally, she found a plant she recognized.
Picking up its soft leaves, she lay them on Kumani’s cut, packing the wound.
“Ara tree leaf. Nice,” Kumani confirmed, and Loveleena felt extremely lucky when the wound started to close over.
“Round three,” Ren said, handing Kumani off to a healer to be examined.
The first years stood in shock, their eyes locked on something behind her.
She turned to find a Tigress approaching.
Its fur was a burnt rust with cream stripes, and it stared her down, panting and licking its lips as if she were prey.
As if she were a meal. Her stomach dropped but she kept her expression neutral as she planted her feet to ready herself for the attack.
She knew about the Tigress. It’s powerful mind magic came up during her research about her own magic.
Two illusionists—one human, one creature.
And her magic was eons behind the Tigress. She struggled to control it, let alone use it effectively.
There was only one way this could go.
“Leena.”
She would recognize his voice anywhere, but the shock of it made her sway. Behind her, Park stood covered in blood.
“Park!” She rushed over to him, her hands touching his cheeks and arms, swiping blood with no indication of where it was from.
“Help,” he pleaded, his eyes bulging. “It’s killing me.” Blood oozed out of his tear ducts, his nose, his ears, as she frantically tried to stop it.
No. No. No.
“Park, I’m here.” She cupped his cheeks, warm fresh blood seeping down her wrists and arms. “I’m going to help you.”
There was so much blood. She couldn’t make it stop, and when he started convulsing it took all her strength just to hold him up.
Tears welled in her eyes as she screamed. “Make it stop!”
She tried to hang onto him, but he thrashed around so aggressively she could barely keep a hold of him. Park dropped to the ground in a heap, blood pooling around him. Loveleena screamed, dropping to her knees, shaking him to wake up.
“Enough.” Ren’s voice cut through whatever horror was escaping her throat, and she crawled backwards as Park disappeared.
She turned, frantic, to find the Tigress was gone. Ren hauled her back up to her feet. “It was an illusion. Breathe.”
Park.
He was here. He was real.
And he was dead.
The slick feel of his blood clung to her fingers, even as she stared at her shaking hands and found them clean. “It wasn’t real.” Ren’s voice sounded oddly apologetic, and she wiped the hot tears from her cheeks, gasping for air. The metallic smell still clung to her nostrils.
First-years stared in horror, some clutching their arms, and it occurred to her she had an audience.
She couldn’t stay to watch how the rest of them did.
The image of Park bloody and convulsing was seared into her mind.
Was that what had happened to him? Was he being tortured somewhere? Suffering and alone?
Salty tears clinging to her cheeks, she escaped to the shower, burning her skin off with the scalding water to try and forget the look in his eyes.