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The steel cage rattled, as a cadet crashed against it, and the floor trembled as another cadet was knocked off his feet. I snatched a sip of steamy air that carried the remnants of sweat and the tang of blood before lifting my arms high in a defensive stance.
The Blade instructor facing me grinned. “You want more, cadet?”
I managed to nod, even though every molecule in my body screamed for mercy. But I refused to admit how hard it was, I refused to back down. If I was a Blade, I was going to be the best grekking Blade the school had ever seen.
I’d spent my entire life being told what I would be and what I deserved. I’d believed that I was destined to be a Wing. I’d believed my clan entitled me to whatever I’d desired. And I’d wanted to be a Wing. At least, I’d thought that’s what I wanted. It was what I’d been programmed to want.
Being chosen to be a Blade had shocked me into the reality that I was entitled to nothing at the academy. Being high-born entitled me to nothing that was not earned. Not even survival.
Now I understood that the academy would give me nothing I did not deserve, which oddly made me more determined. I’d been chosen by the Blades because they saw the potential within me to be a great warrior, and I would not fail them. I would not fail as a Blade.
Before my opponent could lunge for me again—and no doubt land another hit—the class leader clapped his hands. “That is all for today. Well done, cadets.” He swung open the iron door. “You are all still breathing.”
I slowly surveyed my fellow first-year Blades as I lowered my fists. They all looked as exhausted and battered as I felt, their bare chests displaying welts and the precursors to bruises. I put a hand to my own side, flinching at the tender spot that would undoubtably turn blue.
The instructor who’d bestowed the bruise on me threw an arm over my shoulder as if we the best of friends. “Nice work, cadet. You have got good instincts, even if your technique needs work.”
I managed to mumble thanks, even though I wanted to punch him in the mouth.
He must have sensed my hostility because he grinned broadly. “It is understandable if you want to kill me. I felt the same way about my sparring instructors.” He elbowed me in the side, sending pain shooting through me. “It means you are a Blade.”
The final jab should have made me want to flatten him, but it didn’t. His words sent pride pulsing through me. I was a Blade. I had found my place, and the instructor saw it as much as I felt it.
I joined the shuffling procession of cadets from the raised sparring ring and down the few steps, grabbing my towel from the floor and wiping off the sweat from my bare skin, moving gingerly as my muscles screeched in protest. I could only imagine how sore I would be in a day’s time—and how bruised.
“You heading to the dining hall?”
I twisted to face another first-year, Kort, who had been in my flight class from first term. I’d never paid much attention to him since he hadn’t been one of the cadets who’d given me the due I’d demanded. But those cadets had washed out or been killed in the maze, and I didn’t care so much about being treated like a high born anymore.
From what I’d seen so far, no one in the School of Battle cared about your clan. They certainly didn’t hit me softer because I came from a prominent family. Part of me wondered if they might actually be coming at me harder.
“Is it time to eat already?” I pulled on my sparring Blade shirt—black with the emblem emblazoned across the chest—and waited as Kort did the same. “Time passes quickly when you are fighting for your life.”
Kort laughed. “They say it gets easier.”
“When?”
He started walking toward the door. “It is nothing some food and drink cannot cure.”
My stomach growled at the reminder that I hadn’t eaten since a quick sip of juice and a bite of toasted bread that morning. “I will meet you there.” I walked beside him from the sparring chamber and down the corridor toward the entrance to the school and the main hall. “I have something to do first.”
“Do not take too long. I cannot promise I will leave much of the good stuff.”
I laughed, trying not to flinch from the ache in my side. “I will not.”
We separated in the main hall, Kort headed up the stairs two at a time while I strode through the hall toward the School of Strategy. I hadn’t forgotten the deal I had made with Jess, and I needed to be sure she had not either. She had promised to tutor me, but I had not seen her since, and it was time to remind her of our deal.
She is the last thing you need.
I ignored the voice in my head, the voice that knew I should focus on my classes and on surviving my Blade training. I knew I did not need her, but I wanted her, and I had not been able to deny myself all my desires in service to my new school. Not yet.
I spotted Jess before I entered the School of Strategy. She was walking under the archway with the Assassins emblem of the blade and mask carved into the black stone, and she was deep in conversation with the blonde from the maze. I searched my mind for the female’s name, finally remembering that it was Morgan and that she’d been one of the women to decipher the climbing wall pattern. Now I could see that she had made it into the Assassins along with Jess, which made sense.
Jess’s gaze flitted to me and then away just as swiftly. Was she ignoring me? I recognized the sting of rejection and then my automatic reaction to it, my instant need to cover the pain with bravado. I moved to step into Jess’s path, but she stopped short, said something to her friend, and then Morgan continued without her.
Jess waited for a beat before walking to me and pulling me into the shadows beneath the stairs. “What do you want?”
Her hostile tone made it impossible for me to curb my own version of hostility. “I wanted to remind you of our deal.”
