Page 57 of Phixmery

He shrugs, standing. “Well, let’s get to it then. That way we can make sure you’re well rested for tomorrow.” His face softens and I look away.

Melissandre practically rolls her eyes before turning to me. “Roz and I are going to search over there to see if we can find anything.” She nods her head in the direction of the restricted section, deeper within the stacks of knowledge.

Roz whispers something to Lennox and nods at me before following Mel away from our group. Ember silently asks with her eyes if I’m okay, and with a twitch of my brow I mutely respond.

“I’m going to ask the librarian for help,” I murmur, stepping away from everyone and moving towards the front desk, which is where I saw her when we first came in.

Nero caws softly. “I don’t like him.”

I sigh, my shoulders dropping slightly. “I don’t either, but we need to keep up appearances, and if we are always excluding them, someone is bound to take notice. Plus he’s harmless. A little persistent, but harmless. Plus I think he feels guilty for not standing up for me in Shalo,” I murmur. It’s the only thing that makes sense to me. It’s obvious he didn’t want to be outcasted with me, but maybe that’s why he’s trying so hard now.

Nero’s wings flutter and ruffle. “He should feel guilty. You went through hell living in that backwards village. Who willingly uses iron on their own people? They couldn’t even shackle you without putting gloves on first. And you did every task they asked of you without much complaint. I just—”

“I know Nero,” I state, not wanting to go down memory lane of the horrors I lived through in that place.

Stopping in front of the librarian’s desk, she glances up at me. Her face lights up as she takes in Nero, such a change from the first day I met her. “Good evening Cadet, what can I help you with? Hello Nero,” she smiles, dipping her head slightly at him.

He chirps back, pleased that she acknowledged him.

“I’m looking for any information you may have on The Choosing. I’m trying to decide which faction to go for,” I explain quickly, knowing that they wouldn’t have any information on what the actual trial would be. Plus I know from experience that the more specific I can be, the better she’ll be able to assist me.

She hums, tapping the feathered quill she’s holding against her mouth. “Try aisles eight and nine. There should be something about factions there. Unfortunately as you know, no information regarding The Choosing gets recorded. It’s tradition to go into it blind, but I’m sure whatever you choose, you’ll be fine. Good luck,” she whispers, before going back to whatever she was working on.

Well, that was a bust, but to be expected. I move back towards the others, heading towards rows eight and nine, and when I pass the others, they follow me. It doesn’t take long to grab a handful of texts each before silently moving back to the table. Mel and Roz still aren’t back yet, so I can only hope that they’ve made some headway with the door.

I settle into the uncomfortable wooden chair and get to reading. Ember and Lennox snag the seats next to me, and I breathe a small sigh of relief that I don’t need to sit next to Bracken. Everything my eyes scan is common knowledge that we’ve already learned in Battle Strategy. I’m still not sure what I want to do. Obviously being a rider is out—I’d be noticed everywhere I went once I leave here. Archery also isn’t my cup of herbs. So at least I know I won’t be choosing Magick Artillery for The Choosing. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think I prefer hand-to-hand combat, even swords over anything long distance. I’m nowhere near skilled enough in fighting or bulky enough to be a Berserker. Which leaves Infantry. Cannon fodder, essentially—it seems like the most basic faction I can choose, which hopefully means an easy in.

With that settled, I gather up my scrolls and texts, placing them on a nearby cart before I go and scour for some more information on Infantry.

“Incoming,” Nero announces and I whip around to see Bracken strolling towards me.

He stops about two feet away and leans against the shelves. “Hey, we haven’t really got to talk much, so I figured I would check in and see how you’re doing.”

I force a smile to my face, trying my best to remain friendly, hoping Roz and Mel finish soon so we can leave since I’m pretty sure I’m set on which faction I’m choosing. “I’m good, just doing some more research on Infantry,” I tell him.

He raises a pale brow. “Why Infantry? I think you’re wasting your potential there. I’ve changed my mind and I’m going to give dragon riding a go,” he announces. “You should do it with me. We can watch each other’s backs. How amazing would it be to ride one of those beasts?” he whispers with awe, leaning towards me.

“I think I’m going to stick with Infantry, but thank you. I wish you luck with the dragons,” I mutter.

He moves towards me, boxing me in against the shelf, and Nero caws angrily but Bracken steps back before he loses an eye and hands me a scroll. “In case you change your mind.” The roll of parchment is labeled in elegant black letters that read ‘History of dragons’.

I shove it back at him. “Thank you but no thanks. If we are going to do this friendship thing, you need to respect my boundaries.”

He takes a step back, raising his hands with his calloused palms facing me. “Boundaries will be respected, unless it’s for your own good. You were sheltered so much in Shalo, you wouldn’t know better in some situations. But don’t worry, I have your back.” He winks and strides away.

Anger bubbles up in my chest. The audacity that bastard has. How dare he assume he knows what’s best for me.

“Please, let me fuck up his face,” Nero begs, his plumage puffed up with his own anger that's bouncing back and forth through our bond.

“If he tries something like that again, you don’t even need to ask,” I mutter. I’m not letting these men walk all over me again. This isn’t Shalo, and I’m not hiding as a helpless null anymore. I have magick and a familiar. If anyone knows what’s best for me, it’s me. “Come on, let’s go find the others. I think I’m done with squad bonding for the day. Hopefully Melissandre and Rozen found something that can help.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

MY BACK ARCHES INTO THE battlement wall as I stretch out my muscles. My eyes linger on a group of second years, doing some practical battle strategy with swords; must be Infantry. My magick seeps out, looking for a crack in their squad leader’s defenses, and when I find it, I strike, letting myself seep into the crevices of his mind. He continues shouting orders, getting them into position, completely oblivious that I’m here, seeing his darkest secrets. His mother works at a brothel in Targos, the shipping capital of Damorleia, and he’s hoping that if he can earn enough respect in the ranks he’ll be able to clear her debt and free her and his younger sister.

The grip on my magick slips, hitting a little too close to home. I show him his fears, like an invading parasite. He fumbles, nearly tripping over his boots as his face turns a ghastly shade of white as I show him picture after picture—every horror imaginable in those types of places, especially where the Lord of Allondë doesn’t care to implement laws to help curb the atrocities that take place in the dark of the night.

I change the scene, as he’s yet to realize I’m there and push me out, showing him the battlefield between Vathia and the border leading into Skyrivene. Soldiers lay dead and forgotten along the banks of Wraithwater Channel, the sickly sweet smell of scorched flesh mixed with the putrid smell of excretion from those who were terrified in those last moments, the stench of their fear still laying heavy in the air.

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