Page 56 of Phixmery

I practically toss the blade to Ember, pommel first, and drop into the muddy snow, beginning my set.

“Can anyone tell me why your blade shouldn’t be on the ground as Cadet Solace has demonstrated?” Craven bellows as he paces in front of me. “No? Your blade is your weapon. Your responsibility. Placing it on the ground is a sure way to ruin and dull your blade. The only time I should ever see a blade on the ground is if you’re dead or dying! If you must, pommel goes into the ground, blade goes up, or it’s in its sheath. Every time I see a blade on the ground, I’m going to assume you’re weak and pathetic like Cadet Solace over here. Fifty push ups every single time. And just to make it clear, every day off you have for the next month will be spent in the armory, polishing and caring for these blades. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Sergeant,” my squad replies.

“I didn’t hear all of you!” Verlice yells somewhere to my left.

“Yes, Sergeant!” We all yell and I nearly face-plant into the snow as my concentration wavers.

Fucking fates.

Craven continues to pace in front of me, and our area of the training yard grows eerily quiet as they wait for me to finish. Suddenly a boot shoves down on my back and I’m thrust into the wet, muddy snow.

“You can’t even seem to do push ups right. Start over. The rest of you pair up. Sergeant Driscol, take over the lesson for me while I deal with this,” he snaps, removing his boot from my back.

I hear the familiar grunt of the giant, wrathful male, and I can’t help but think of how rough and enchanting his voice sounded the other night.No, what the hell are you doing Rav, these males are the enemy, I remind myself as I push back onto my hands, beginning my set again.

This time, as much as it pains my already battered muscles, I keep my form straight and slowly work through my set, fighting through the cramps in my arms that threaten to make me buckle under the pain. But pain is nothing new—I can work with it. If I can survive iron-tipped whips that have scarred my body, iron shackles that have left thick scarring around my wrists and ankles, then measly push-ups and a male with an ego that’s bigger than his dragon is nothing.

Slow and steady pays off when I finish the push-ups and rise to my feet, brushing my wet hands along my tunic.

Craven thrusts my sword at me. “Let’s see what you got,” is all he says as he draws his weapon: a beautiful crafted silver blade, one I don’t get to admire before I barely have time to block his slash.

When our swords clash together, the metal painfully reverberates up my arms, but I grit my teeth and with pure willpower, I manage to avoid dropping the blade again. Each strike seems to get more forceful. I would say it’s like a dance, but I’m barely hanging on, tripping over my feet as he presses me harder and harder. His face twists into a sneer, something akin to frustration blaring like a battle trumpet behind his golden eyes.

Finally his sword slashes out, twisting as our blades clash together, and mine flies out of my hand, landing carelessly in the mud. The piercing cold metal of his blade stings as he holds it against my neck, one arm wrapped around my back so I can’t escape as he leans down and gets in my face. My chest heaves with every breath I struggle to take in as my heart rate attempts to calm itself, but it’s futile with Craven so close. He leans in, his breath brushing against my ear as he speaks.

“I don’t get why the fates would grant you all this power and a familiar. You’re just a feeble female. A female who’s keeping secrets.” He pulls back just far enough so I can see the suspicion in his nearly glowing golden orbs. “We know,” he hisses. “Don’t you think it’s better to just come out and say it?”

My blood freezes and I lock down my emotions like I did whenever I was chained to that damn post in the center of Shalo village square. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Sergeant. I’m here to train to be accepted into the ranks of the Damorleia army.”Fuck. No. Don’t think about it now. Just deny everything. What the hell does he know?My nostrils flare slightly as I try to scent anything that could give away what he’s talking about, but the only thing there is anger.

The blade presses father into my neck, and I hold back the hiss—not iron, but it still hurts.

He bares his teeth at me. “It’s rude to scent your superiors, Princess,” he snaps.

I can’t help the widening of my eyes at the moniker, it hitting a little too close to home. His words take up a whole new meaning. Does he actually know my secret? The one I haven’t spoken out loud since that fateful, disastrous night? No, it can’t be; it must be a coincidence.

The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. “Maybe if you weren’t so close, Sergeant Craven, the pungent smell of your ego wouldn’t be so invasive.”

His eyes heat with anger as he shoves me back, and I barely catch my balance and stop myself from landing on my ass. He swings the pommel of his weapon towards my temple but I manage to dodge it—barely.

He growls, taking a step towards me before storming away towards the rest of his wing who are helping the others train. I stand there, staring wide-eyed at his broad shoulders as they retreat with the confidence only a warrior can muster. What in all of Damorleia just happened? I think I need to speak with the others and put a stop to our secret training for now, especially if Wing One might be onto us. It’s safer that way, at least until we can get information we need from the library.

EMBER TRAILS ALONG beside Nero and me, with Mel on my other side as we enter the library. Rozen and Lennox move behind us like quiet sentries. Those two weren’t impressed that Bracken invited us to come do some research for The Choosing, but after Em and Mel talked them down and made it clear that there’s a plan, they reluctantly climbed on board. Ever since he followed us down under the castle and even with his clinginess, they’ve disliked him… strongly.

I don’t blame them. He makes me uncomfortable, but it’s nothing I can’t handle. Plus, this gives us the front that we are actually working together as a squad, and while we are there, Roz and Mel are going to sneak away to check out the door to the restricted section, to see if it would even be possible to get in without the assistance of the librarian.

Luckily we don’t need to search too long for the rest of our squad. Bracken has secured a table near the front of the library, but still nestled between two towering shelves, stacked with scrolls. It seems that they arrived not too long ago, as they have no scrolls or texts laying about on the table.

“You made it,” Bracken says with a smile, tapping the chair beside him.

I give him a hesitant smile back, greeting Gregor and Bren. “Shouldn’t we look for what we need first before sitting?”

His smile dims. “I thought we all could chat and get to know each other a bit more before studying. I already know what I plan on doing anyway. I just want to see if they have anything that could help me pass the trial.”

Ember sighs with annoyance next to me.

My hand reaches up to pet Nero’s silky feathers, my muscles straining with the movement. “I think I just want to study and get an early night. Training this morning was brutal and I’m exhausted,” I state, which isn’t a lie; I am exhausted and sore. My arms pinch with pain whenever I lift them above my shoulders.

---