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“No damage that a healer can’t fix it,” Murphy said. “We’re forging tough soldiers here, not jokesters.”
Here we went again. He wanted to teach me a lesson, but this time I was ready.
I had a weapon. I was golden, even if it was a wooden sword.
Demetra grinned. “Yes, sir!”
I whistled and gestured at Marie.
She tossed a wooden sword at me. I leapt up, grabbed the hilt, and swaggered toward Demetra with the sword in my grip.
“I’d prefer a real sword,” I murmured.
“Let’s see what you’ve got, initiate,” Murphy said. “When you prove you can handle a wooden one, then you get to hold a real sword.”
Marie sighed, rubbing her temple. “This won’t go well.”
“Did I ask you to stop practicing?” Murphy barked at the rest of the students. “You lot are the worst. You have no discipline! Everyone will run twenty laps before dinner.”
A few groans sounded amid the clang of wooden swords crossing each other.
“One more moan from you bitches, you’ll be running forty laps,” Murphy said.
The groans ceased right away, and the crack of swords vehemently crossing picked up.
I approached Demetra and her parrying partner, a doe-eyed brunette named Patricia HR. Before I’d even raised my wooden sword, both girls charged me, one from the back, and the other from the front.
“You chicks are real charmers, big on manners,” I said as I dodged to the side at the last second, and the two girls nearly rammed their swords into each other’s guts. They halted just in time, bringing the tips of their swords downward.
Even as an initiate, an Olympian descendant wasn’t like an untrained human. The descendants were incredibly fast and strong and had great reflexes. If they were like first-year human students, they’d have impaled each other with their swords.
Yet it didn’t stop them from staring daggers at me.
I smirked at them pleasantly. “I thought this was a three-way, not a threesome.”
Demetra spat. “Don’t flatter yourself, slut. You might be the demigods’ newest toy, but they’ll dump you just like they’ve dumped every other tramp who’s opened her thighs. They’ll get tired of you sooner than you think. So it’s time you learn your place and admit you’re the trash of the Academy that needs to be taken out.”
She was lucky that Axel was still engaged in mental communication with the other demigods. They were briefing him and discussing their next moves. She was even luckier that Héctor wasn’t present to hear what she was saying. If he had heard that, her family’s money and Esme’s protection wouldn’t stop him from getting rid of her.
The irony was that only I could save her from his wrath, but the bitches and dicks born to privilege held a firm belief that they were untouchable.
I would bet that the entire student body believed Demetra’s lies that I was the demigods’ disposable whore. People liked to hear what they wanted to hear anyway.
Even the instructor must have thought I was Axel’s shiny new toy and didn’t bother to stop Demetra from insulting me—not that I needed anyone to defend my ass.
Murphy watched with expressionless eyes. The other students had stopped their parrying to watch the drama unfold between Demetra and me, their zealous gapes spelling that they craved spilling my blood.
Nat and Yelena gritted their teeth, but they respected that I could handle it.
Marie shook her head and crossed her arms over her chest, waiting for the inevitable chaos to drop.
“Trash, darling?” I asked, a mocking smile ghosting my lips and dancing in my eyes. “Does it irk you to no end that you’ve been trying to get your filthy rich claws on the demigods, but this trash stands in your way and stops you from climbing into their beds and having their secret babies? Nice try throwing yourself at them, but even the mean old swimming boy didn’t lift his gaze to you for more than half a second. I’m sorry you’ll have to stay One-eighth.”
Nat chuckled loudly and Yelena giggled, and some students joined the chortles. Not everyone was on Demetra’s side, even if no one wanted to cross her and her clique except my squad and me.
Murphy didn’t stop us, even after his claims that he was all about discipline. He probably hadn’t had fun like this for a long time, and this soap opera seemed to fascinate him. But he stole a quick glance at Axel, who was still in the corner, conversing mentally with his cousins, his back to us.
“Fuck you, you filthy whore!” Demetra yelled and swung her sword at my neck.
