I let my gaze rake her from head to toe and back up again. A clear fuck-you gesture if there ever was one.
She’s almost twice my height, and without a doubt, has more muscle mass than I do. The silver lip ring adds a desperate flare of wanting to be a badass, but sadly for her, it falls short. I watch with casual disinterest as she tucks her shoulder-length bleached hair behind her ear. Her makeup is smeared on the left side of her deep-set eyes. The same eyes that are currently daring me to make the next move.
I can feel the irritation bubbling below my skin. The need to bite back. To give what I’m being given. I push it deep down like I’ve been doing for years. I’m way too tired for this, but if I don’t stand my ground now, I’ll lose all credibility among my peers.
I blow out a big breath and push off the tree. “I’m going to assume you’re just fatigued and not normally this much of a bitch,” I casually throw in her direction. Inside, I’m dreading this going any further, but on the outside, I’m as cool as a cucumber.
Her nostrils flare.
Yep. She wants to hit me.
Instead, she balls her fists and gives me a tight-lipped smile before roughly turning on her heel and pushing forward. Guess she’s too tired for this shit too. Thank the gods. I know without a doubt I would have gotten my ass handed to me.
“I’m off to a great start,” I reply under my breath, shaking my head.
A few prospective students walk around me, our little quarrel not fazing them in the least. When I bend down to pick up my pack from the damp, moss-covered floor, a pair of black combat boots, shoelaces untied and hanging haphazardly at the side, come into view.
“She’s pleasant,” a male voice drawls. “Maybe we’ll get lucky and room in the same hall as her.”
“I’d better sleep with one eye open, then,” I mutter, still staring at his boots as I tighten the strap of my pack.
I would rather roll all the way back down this mountain than share a hall with her. I know luck hasn’t been on my side lately, but that would be just unreasonable.
I fling the strap over my shoulder and rise, my eyes falling on the man who joined me. A hint of amusement swims in his hazel eyes. Ash-blond curls spring up all over his head, the ringlets perfectly in place, with not even one misbehaving. Meanwhile, I look like I frolicked in a bog. Probably smell like it too.
“How are you not dying out here like the rest of us?” I genuinely ask.
“My brother graduated from the academy last year,” he says, grinning. “But before that, he was a pain in the ass who didn’t cut me any slack. He had me running laps and hiking shitty trails with him until he left for the academy a few years ago. I just continued doing it after he was already gone.”
I tuck that little tidbit of information away for a rainy day. I bet he has quite a bit of knowledge that could be useful to a prospect. I would think his brother gave him some tips on what to expect heading into this. Unfortunately, I didn’t have time to get much information from Ambrose last night, and his letters were always vague and few and far between.
“Where’s he stationed now?” I ask as we start to walk, keeping my eyes on the terrain in front of me.
“He’s stationed at Crimson Tower near the Southern border. He’s tasked with maintaining our walls just past the little trading village ofWillikson.I haven’t heard from him in a few weeks, though.” His mouth moves around a small piece of pine straw that he picked up along the way. “Which isn’t uncommon. It’s hard to pen letters back home when you’re out on patrol.”
Being on patrol instead of locked in battle is a good sign that the walls are holding up against the bane of our existence.
Wraiths.
Their main goal in life is ending ours.
He extends his hand for me to take. “The name’s Finnley,” he says, moving the pine needle around from one side of his mouth to the other.
Without breaking stride, I reach out and take his hand. “Norissa, but everyone calls me Nori.”
It’s dusk by the time we arrive at the top of the mountain. Shivering and exhausted, I pull my hood tighter around my face to protect it from the wind. It’s fierce this high up, and thetemperatures are dropping significantly, numbing my fingers and causing them to take on an indigo hue. It feels as if a thousand little needles have buried themselves in my fingertips.
I shift my pack from one shoulder to the other, trying to balance the weight. Both shoulders throb at this point, so I have just been bouncing it back and forth between the two for the past hour. I don’t even have much in it, but with the incline and length of the hike, it feels like it’s filled with bricks.
Not one of us looks better than death. Except for Finnley. He looks like this is just another day for him. It’s completely abnormal and slightly terrifying.
We all stand around and stare at the large iron gate that stands between us and our destination, unsure of what to do next. It looks formidable and very uninviting. Finally, a girl with curly black hair falling over her shoulder opens the gate from the other side, the hinges creaking loudly as they swing. She runs her sharp eyes over the large group, about a hundred of us in total.
Whatever she sees doesn’t impress her much.
Her lips pull into a tight sneer. “There are fewer of you than expected.” Given her solid-black attire, she’s definitely a Noctryn. She walks toward us with the intimidation factor that they wear like a second skin.
I wonder if it’s standard-issue by the academy.
