“We see your potential, Max.” He smiled. “Will you accept?”
“Yes. Yes, sir!” This time my mouth caught up with my brain.
“You won’t have much of a social life like the other soldiers,” he warned.
“Social life?” The words came out strangled. “Are you kidding me, sir? I don’t even know what that is.”
He chuckled. Low and warm, the sound resonating in his chest. The flutter in my stomach sank deeper.
“Cadets and soldiers do have downtime after their duties and training,” he said. “They watch old shows, play cards, drink at the club. Some of them date.”
I licked my lip. His gaze dipped to my mouth for a second before locking back on my eyes, the hunger in them veiling itself behind duty and restraint.
“You won’t have weekends either,” he continued. “The extra training will be intensive. Are you up for that? It’s all right if you’re not ready. Your former life was hardenough. No one would blame you for wanting to take it easy.”
“I’m in, sir.” My voice came out lower, rougher than I’d intended. Fiercer. “I’m all in. It’ll be a date.”
The words hung in the air between us.
“Oh—no. That’s not what I meant. I mean?—”
“Good, Max.” His chuckle deepened. “I’ll see you when we get back.”
He strode toward the exit. I stood rooted to the spot, my face on fire, watching him catch the light one last time before he vanished.
It’ll be a date?What the fuck?
It’ll be a date,the demon mimicked in a breathy falsetto, then dissolved into laughter that echoed through the hollow spaces of my skull.Oh, Max. You didn’t need my help with that one. You’re a natural disaster all on your own.It yawned, contented.I’m glad we got out of that dreadful mine.
20
MAX
Isettled into the grinding routine of a first-year cadet’s training: strength enhancement, weapons work, hand-to-hand combat, and lectures on field tactics. Three meals a day. A dry cot. Waking to a bell instead of an overseer’s boot. It all whipped me into decent shape faster than I’d expected.
I hadn’t thought I’d miss Aelindor so much, but my mind kept replaying the way he’d looked at me, like I meant something to him. Caspian and his easy grin drifted through my thoughts too. I didn’t want to admit it, but even Drakken’s absence left a hollow space behind my ribs.
I kept my ears open, hoping to catch word of their return. The wyvern attack—and what it revealed about the enemy’s breeding experiments—had rattled the command structure badly enough that three of the four heirs had ventured out personally. The threat hung over us like a dark cloud.
I’d pieced together their roles by now. Aelindoroversaw the Zodiac Covenant’s general operations. The big picture. The long game. Nikolai handled diplomacy and ran intelligence. Caspian did tracking, reconnaissance, and kept an eye on the border outposts. And Drakken was the general—training, recruiting, leading the war effort.
Nikolai was still on base, but I hadn’t seen him. As the sole heir in the fortress, he’d be buried beneath the workload of four heirs. His domain was the main compound; mine was the academy side. Different worlds separated by courtyards, regions, and a chain of command.
Aelindor had left me with a cliffhanger: the offer of private training, dangling like bait I’d already swallowed, hook and all. I spent my days guessing what the heirs would teach me. Combat? Magic? Manners? The suspense was gnawing at me. And just the prospect of spending time with all of them, except the dragon, sent phantom wings fluttering in my stomach.
By the fifth day, restlessness had settled into a constant hum beneath my skin. No news. No heirs. Nothing but drills and silence.
After evening training, I made my way to the Sanguine Tower. The wards parted for me easily, the spell’s recognition keyed to whatever signature Nikolai had imprinted on my presence. The lift carried me to the penthouse in silence.
Steam filled the marble room. I scrubbed myself clean, soaked until the heat had loosened every knotted muscle, and climbed out. Padding to the full-length mirror, I swiped the condensation away with one hand.
My reflection stared back like a stranger. My face was no longer angular and gaunt but filled in. Cheekbones high and defined. The hollows beneath them were gone. My skin held warmth now, a flush of health instead of the ashen pallor of a miner who hadn’t seen real sunlight in years. My lips were soft and full, no longer cracked and peeling. My eyes—midnight dark, fringed by thick lashes—brimmed with life.
The beautiful version of me should have been a relief. It wasn’t.
Guilt and anxiety twisted through my gut. I was playing soldier—breathing clean air, eating three meals a day, bathing in a prince’s penthouse—while my sister was hungry and cold. While the miners suffered under the overseers.
Would the guards punish the miners because of my escape? Would they take it out on my tiny sister because her “brother” had run?
