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My gaze falls to Jacobi at my feet. His head is down, his hair spills over his face, and his heavy breathing punctuates the air. It seems like every time we enter this room, we end up in this position, and the longer it takes the Commanders to give us the green light. I think they hope to embarrass Jacobi into performing the way they want, but that’s not how he operates. Jacobi’s not interested in fighting battles. He prefers hacking databases and stealing identities. Every time Roundtable has gone down, it’s been because of him.
But the Order doesn’t care half as much about those skills as they do your ability to fight. Because no matter where you’re placed in the hierarchy after graduation, your first duty is as a soldier.
And yet, I still don’t like holding blades to my best friend’s neck.
Finally, the green light flickers to life overhead. I uncross my blades with a zing and step away. Jacobi exhales and his shoulders fall. He reaches for his second blade and gets to his feet. A clear, robotic voice sounds in the training room over the intercom.
“Jacobi, report to Commander Quinn.”
While those orders don’t necessarily mean anything bad for Jacobi—Commander Quinn is Jacobi’s mother—dread swirls in my stomach. Valryn aren’t really all that nurturing.
Jacobi turns to me, and though he’s smiling, I still see the defeat in his lackluster eyes and drooping shoulders. Part of me wants to apologize even though I don’t know what I’m apologizing for...it’s just a darkness has been crowding my thoughts for some time now, a sense that every time Jacobi and I face off, it might be his last.
Which is stupid.
The only reason I've started to think this way is because I’ve recently learned the current head of the Order, Luminary Maximus DuPont, is dying and that his son, Roth, will ascend to his place—that means change, and change under Roth isn’t something I’m looking forward to. Not to mention, it’s coming at a time when the world seems to be drowning and I don’t think Roth’s the one who’ll bring us out of it, I think he’ll push us further from the surface.
“See you tomorrow.” Jacobi says.
He places his fist to his shoulder and bows his head. I do the same. It’s our salute: a sign of respect among the Valryn. I watch Jacobi leave before I move toward the door, but find my exit is blocked by a tall Valryn with square shoulders and dark, buzzed hair. He is dressed like me, only far more decorated—not with medals like humans, but with thread—gold entwines his waist, crawls up his chest, and wraps around his shoulders and upper arms. They are the markings I want one day.
As he moves into the training room, he claps. The tips of his wings drag the floor.
“Elite Cain,” I salute him.
Cain is the head of our branch of the Order. He oversees the Commanders. Consequently, I don’t see much of him as a Knight-in-training, so the fact that he’s crashing my training session makes me nervous.
“Bravo, Shadow Knight,” he says, surveying me from hea
d to toe. “Your father must be very proud.”
It’s hard not to roll my eyes. I look over Cain’s shoulder to where my father always stands—in the shadow of his Elite. He’s hard to miss. I look just like him. People like to tell me that, like they think I’ll forget I’m related to him. Like those eyes—the color of deep water and just as cold—would be narrowed in disappointment at anyone other than his son.
“I hoped I might have a word with you,” he pauses, watching me with unmoving eyes and I work to hide my surprise.
“How can I be of service?” A slow, tight smile cracks across Cain’s face.
“I’m sure you are aware of Commander Savior’s importance to my team.” Commander Bastian Savior is my father and one of four Commanders Elite Cain has at his disposal. They carry out all manner of orders—orders that take them away from their families more often than not. “I can only assume you will prove an asset just like him, which is why I am entrusting you with an assignment.”
I look for a reaction from my father, but he’s vacant, like a human after death.
“An assignment, Elite Cain?”
“Your first as a Shadow Knight of the Order.”
I offer a nervous laugh and quickly shut my mouth. Part of training is learning to hide emotion—emotion means enemies finding weaknesses, and weaknesses mean death. “It’s an honor for you to say, Elite Cain, but I have not graduated yet. I still have nine months of training.”
“Do you wish to challenge my judgment?”
“No, Elite Cain.”
“You are at the head of your class, far more advanced than any Shadow Knight your age. I know your father has given you no unfair advantage...this is in your soul.”
I keep his gaze, even though his words make me feel uncomfortable. He twists on his heels, hands behind his back, and starts to make a circle around me. I flex my fingers, ignoring the instinctual pull to reach for my weapon.
“It is a simple enough task. Think of it as...a test of your loyalty.”
That feeling of discomfort intensifies, raising the hair on the back of my neck.
