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The door closed, and the sword training room emptied of everyone, save myself and General Cyderial.
My chest still rattled, but the vehemence of my drum had slowed somewhat.
It was the first time I’d been in Cyderial’s presence since he had ruined my life, waves of resentment tensing my muscles and leaving me struggling to quiet.
I did not want to face him. To look at that deceiver's face and know, again, how powerless I was to his control.
Making no secret of his approach, he came closer to ask, “If it was your daughter in the room, would you rather she learn perfect form and know how to protect herself? Or be coddled and soft, to die when that first vorec charged?”
Growling in my irritation, I snarled, “General Cyderial, did you think I was lying when I told you I would never give a child to the academy? I meant every word. No male can make me do such a thing.”
He came up directly behind me, faster than I could have anticipated, lips close to my ear as he whispered, “Is that why you’re so scared?”
Spinning about to face him head-on, I hissed, “Yes, old man! Don’t you think about your own children? Would you let that woman break their little fingers? Would you inflict the abuses of this place on your offspring? How sick are you?”
God, I wished I’d had the guts to strike him. To muss that unblinking stare of his and force him to back away.
As if he’d read my thoughts, he moved to the wall to inspect the practice weapons, daring to say, “You do not need to fear for your children.”
I laughed. He really was insane. “Why? Are you suddenly going to treat these littles better than you treated us? Not going to hang their friends in front of them? Are the beatings going to stop?”
“No one has ever beaten you more than you could handle.”
Hysterical laughter fell from my lips with such aggression it almost competed with the banging behind my breasts. My drum had come back in full force, every ounce of rage I felt for what he had done to me right there for him to see. “You are an evil man who has done unspeakable things. And I hate you more than I can say.”
Calm, he held out a practice sword, hilt first so I might take it. “I know.”
It fit in my hand perfectly, the balance of the unsharpened blade known to me. How badly I could hurt him with it despite its dullness filled me with a vicious anticipation.
If I could land just one strike—just one—it would be the victory of a lifetime.
General Cyderial raised a matching sword, cold-blooded stare locked on me as he challenged, “You will not leave this room until you yield and calm yourself.”
Scoffing, I realized how foolish this was. How dumb I might be to hold up a sword to a male of his rank and experience and think I stood any chance of walking out of that room.
I’d be carried out on a stretcher. Patched back together in the infirmary and forced right back into my position as Assistant to Instructor Dirum.
My focus needed to be on getting the hell out of the academy, not petty squabbles with dangerous men.
Lowering my sword, I dropped it on the mat between us, striving to silence my drumming. Staring where the weapon lay at his feet, in a matter of ten breaths, I was quiet though still angry… mostly with myself. “I yield.”
The general, cruel as ever, snarled, “Lorieyn, put your name on the list!”
If I could not win against the man with violence, then I would have to use cunning. Maybe something could even be salvaged from this mess. “Witnessing abuse against children is going to inspire my response. There is no helping my nature, nor am I ashamed of it. To be blunt, I doubt you will ever allow me to graduate. This room is where you want me to suffer—a broken spirit breaking spirits—unless you can force me to submit tothe list,which I feel is a trap. If it weren’t, I would not be so ignorant of what takes place once a male hears my song.”
Instantly guarded, his entire demeanor went ice-cold. “Explain.”
Deadpan, I met his unblinking stare and said, “I’m curious about sex.”
9
With a crook of his finger, General Cyderial bade me follow him to his office, a terrible sign that I had earned more than a beating with a sword.
Or a great sign that he might actually tell me something of value.
Information I could use to get what I wanted.
Word of what had transpired in the training room no doubt having spread, recruits witnessed my march in the wake of our mutual terrorizer. After all, I had done the unthinkable. I had threatened an instructor with the most vicious thumping sounds my body might make. Considering the crime, many students were most likely under the impression this was the final time they might lay eyes on me. Some must have thought that in mere moments they would be called to the yard to witness my hanging.
