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And we continued like that, even as I helped her dress for today's trial. I didn’t worry about what would happen when I went downstairs or what Marik would think when I didn’t show up. I laughed so hard that my cheeks screamed in protest, reminiscing over everything we’d done together over the years. It wasn’t something either of us had let ourselves do up until now - so focused on what we had to do to get ready. But now, with less than an hour before, she was due at the subterranean arena. She needed this - the reality of the trials having hit home for her at some point that morning. The trials were extremely dangerous, and almost every year, at least one person met their gruesome end.
I felt a tug of dread at the back of my mind that this may very well be the last time I would see my friend as she was now. But the pain dulled, leaving only a slight hum where there had been only agony before. I feared what that meant, knowing deep within me it had something to do with Marik. And I honestly wondered if I could ever escape the connection that tangled between us, and more frighteningly than that, if I even wanted to.
Corbin had been waiting for me at the door to the keep’s entrance hall, his tall, sleek body resting back in simple repose against one of the tall marble columns with painstakingly carved looping swirls and scrolls lining the top. He had dressed in a navy blue suit that he’d left undone, perfectly hugging the athletic biceps that had no doubt taken years with the Sentori to hone. Beneath the jacket was a matching four-button waistcoat over a crisp white collared shirt, completed with a matching tie that drew my eyes to the magnificence of his beautiful face, pulled into a bright smile that still made butterflies take flight in my belly.
He held an arm out for me as he greeted me, his thick accent a sweet caress to the senses just as much as his cologne with the sweet spices of cardamom and vanilla. “Ah, Miss Ryans, what a delight to see you again.”
The pink that rose to my cheeks made me regret not accepting Ness’s offer of assistance with makeup. In return, I gave him a hint of a smile, the demureness in my eyes not something he missed. His left cheek lifted, revealing the dimple carved into his olive skin, which betrayed the faintest hint of red as his eyes glimmered with hidden humor meant only for me.
“The delight is all mine, I can assure you,” I responded, linking my arm with his. But as I did, I felt the heated stare of copper eyes that swept out from the shadows, and a pang of guilt clung to the center of my chest. Without warning, a flood of fire swept through my being and cut directly through every clenched muscle of my body. I bit hard at my inner lip, the metallic taste of blood mingling with saliva, and I immediately felt Corbin flinch at the sudden tightness of my arm.
“Are you alright?” he asked, studying me with concern.
“I’m fine.” I breathed and forced my muscles to relax. I quickly scanned the room, finding the telltale bright red aura of a certain Demon who refused to understand boundaries. I would have glowered, but I was keenly aware of Corbin’s focused attention, and so I remained politely poised. “And please, call me Ryn.”
“Ryn, it is.” The nickname pleased him immensely as we began walking through the polished corridors to the stairs leading to the subterranean tunnels. I noted that four others followed us in their richly fashioned suits in various neutral tones that allowed them to blend seamlessly back into a crowd as necessary - enforcers, no doubt.
“Do you have any scouts here with you?” I asked, attempting to fill the silence of our steps.
“Only one, Ademi. He will join us in the arena along with two other of my enforcers once the events begin. He likes to try to see how the candidates prepare.”
“It sounds to me like you have a good judgment for men yourself,” I replied seamlessly, the practiced flattery rolling easily off my tongue, and this time, when he smiled, the right dimple appeared as well.
“I do believe that is a compliment. My father would be most displeased.”
I turned my head, meeting his warm gray gaze - filled with tiny chips of lilac and lavender that seemed to dance around his irises. I swallowed as delicately as I could under the attention, “Your father?”
“Yes. He was quite old-fashioned. He taught me that if a woman was the first to compliment a man, then he has been most errant in his duties.”
I laughed, genuinely surprised by the comment, as he held open a heavy wooden door with little ornamentation save for a single engraved sword and shield above the rod iron handle. Once through, he held his arm for me again as we descended the spiraling stairwell lined with dark gray blocks and rod iron wall sconces, giving off just enough buttery warm glow to allow one to find their next step.
“Well, Ambassador -”
“Corbin,”
“Corbin,” the butterflies returned just long enough for the queasiness to settle through my connection, followed by a blast of fire that had me biting back a curse. Gods, Marik was moodier than a hellhound who lost his dinner. “We may be casters with our antiquated traditions - but I would like to think we’ve come far enough that a girl can complement a guy without offending sensibilities.”
I could no longer see Corbin’s smile, but I could feel from the way his arm tensed for a moment that it had faltered. “Yes, well, my father came from another time completely.”
“I can appreciate that.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Absolutely,” I dragged out each syllable in a comic exaggeration. “You should see our monitors in the library. I’m pretty sure velociraptors were still a real threat when those puppies were built.”
The sound of Corbin’s boisterous laugh was musical as it reverberated off the close walls of the stairwell. Such a magnificent sound, filled with true joy, but I felt a pang of longing for the gruff tones and growls of a certain overstepping bastard who had no doubt found a way to watch me even in this small of a space.
“You might be a bit off there. But I do recall a few stories of woolly mammoths trying to eat the cords.”
As I laughed at his teasing tone as much as the words, I was pleased just as much by how natural the connection felt between us as the joviality of his words. I didn’t feel that grimy discomfort that comes from overt flirtation with only one goal in mind or the disingenuous compliments meant to slip a woman between the sheets smoothly. No - the way that Corbin’s gray eyes warmed to match the colors of the candlelight, andthe soft way he had stretched his hand to me to maintain a brush of contact as he opened the second door when we reached the last step told me that he just genuinely wanted to be with, of all people, me. And more, it was without any idea of my expanded abilities beyond being a simple healer and empath. This sparked an infinitesimal glimmer of hope in the recesses of my heart that perhaps Corbin may be able to win me at the end of this week and give me the kind of life that an unwanted misfit who used her sarcastic mouth as an ironclad shield couldn’t have even dreamed of.
This wasn’t the first time I’d been to the subterranean amphitheater, with its stretching rows of carved stone benches broken only by a walkway in the middle to allow for easy, fluid movement between one side and the next. Still, it was certainly the busiest I’d seen it. Almost every seat was filled, designated by dark red cushions embroidered with the academy’s crest in shimmering golden thread that caught the angled lights above. The arena itself was half obround with seven tall stone pillars lining the flat southern wall, set another twenty feet below the crowd, each signifying one of the seven cardinal pillars. It was lined with dirt and large boulders to allow for cover from whatever may emerge from the iron gates at the far end. Tomorrow, it would be rearranged, the stone and dirt most likely removed and replaced with other essential objects for future support trials.
One of the sisters met us at the entrance to the amphitheater, her long flowing black robes and formal black veil and wimple doing little to hide a face set in her early sixties with eyes a light chestnut brown. I’d never directly met her before, but I knew she was a newer acquisition of the Academy, only coming to us at the beginning of my last semester here, having earned her assignment after years of service to her guild. From the way she bent in a bow from her waist, rather than the neck at Corbin’s entrance, told me she must have been from Xynin. While she no longer owed loyalties to any specific guild, old habits did die hard.
“Ambassador Valerius,” while her face was beginning to wrinkle and gray, her voice was crisp and clear without hinting at the raspiness that often came with age. The way she used his surname rather than giving another clear indication of her reverence toward the man.
“Sister Hesta,” Corbin released me, holding his hands out before him palms up, inviting a gentle brush of aged fingers over his in a formal greeting adopted by the Xynin hierarchy millennia ago. To be invited to touch the palms of one who was deemed stronger than you was seen to be a blessing - a hope that the weaker may take some modicum of strength from the stronger.
