Page 70 of The Awakening of Essensia

Fang stood abruptly, knocking into the table and sending his mug of water toppling over. He turned, his massive frame towering over the group. “Say it again,” he said, voice low.

The refectory fell silent. Water pooled across the table, dripping over the edge.

The recruits hurried away, their nervous laughter with them. Fang sat down heavily, hunching over his porridge.

“Thanks,” Vaelira said.

“You’d think they’d come up with a more imaginative insult by now,” Ressa mused, nudging a fried egg around her plate.

“There’s not a single imaginative thought between them,” Fang grumbled. “They’re just picking on people they think weak because they believe it makes them look powerful in comparison. Cowards, the lot of them.”

Vaelira didn’t appreciate being called weak, but compared to Fang, she was. The muscles in his exposed arms bulged as he clenched his fists on the table. It was as if Arnar, the God of War, had taken mortal form and sat opposite her.

A man in a blue uniform approached their table. Fang whipped around, looking ready to fight.

The messenger recoiled slightly. “Vaelira Tarn?” he asked, eyes darting to her as Fang relaxed.

Vaelira nodded and he handed her a sealed letter. The parchment was thick, the seal a blank circle of smooth red wax. She opened it, scanned the page, folded it and slipped it into her pouch. She nodded again and the messenger hurried off.

Ressa and Fang watched her expectantly. Vaelira picked up her fork and stabbed a mushroom.

Ressa let out a slow breath. “How long is it going to take before you start trusting us?”

“I do trust you.”

Ressa stood, taking her plate as she left. Guilt twisted in Vaelira’s chest as she watched her go.

Fang lingered a moment, his eyes soft. “She’s right,” he said, picking up his plate. “And if you haven’t noticed, you don’t exactly have people lining up to be your friend.” He followed Ressa out, dropping his plate on a cart by the door.

Vaelira sat alone at the table, her food growing cold. She wanted to trust them, but the last time people like her trusted too freely, the world burned. She wouldn’t be the one to strike the spark.

Ressa and Fang didn’t speak to her during drills, but Vaelira was too distracted to care. Her mind kept circling back to the note tucked in her pouch, words she’d read so many times they felt burned into her mind.

When Kolborn finally barked at them to leave, she headed straight for her room. Once inside, she closed the door and pressed her back to it, the note already clutched in her hand.

This was it.

She was finally going to get the answers she came for and the knowledge she needed to find out who had destroyed her life so thoroughly.

Vaelira,

Have dinner with me tonight. The Seven Squids.

E

16

Lady Lucille

After her last lecture that afternoon, Vaelira bathed quickly and pulled on her cleanest shirt. The linen was stiff, but it was the best she had. She scraped the worst of the dirt from her boots, redid her plait, and strapped her sword at her hip. Her thumb brushed the ruby, then drifted to the pouch at her belt, checking the moonstone was still secure. Jon’s empty dagger sheath lay on the dresser.

He would have made a joke if he were there now. Would have told her not to trip over her own boots or some equally stupid comment that would have broken the tension just enough to help her through it.

But he wasn’t there, and the lump in her throat only seemed grow the longer she stood still.

She took the sheath and fastened it to her belt. It hung there almost weightless. There was no blade, but it was still a piece of him, and she wanted her brother with her for this.

She reached for the doorknob, but her fingers hovered, barely brushing the cool metal.