Page 172 of Unbound

Raith's expression hardens. "Focus on what you can control, Cade. Let me worry about the rest."

"Yes, sir." Cade’s eyes flick to me, then back to Raith. "We're ready. Whenever you need us."

As Cade rejoins his companions, I notice how the other fires watch Raith—with a mixture of awe and absolute trust. These students would die for him without question.

"Was the 'sir' thing your idea or theirs?" I ask once we're alone again.

"I've given up trying to get them to stop. They started trying to call me captain and commander, so letting them use ‘sir’ was actually a compromise. But it makes them feel better. Thinking I'm more than I am. Thinking somebody is in control and can lead them."

"Sounds like a heavy burden."

He eyes me, almost looking surprised a moment before his expression hardens. "It's nothing I can't handle. Come on. People are staring." He gestures and we head to join the waters.

I notice Veeni glaring at me from where she sits in a small group with Serena and Jira. One of Veeni’s sleeves is pinned up where her arm should be.

“Do not feel guilt, angry human. She delivered you to the wolves. She’s lucky I left her head on her shoulders.”

I pull my eyes away from them and head for my usual spot next to Mireen, who is waving frantically as if I might miss her in the crowd. Raith follows me the whole way, not immediately splitting off to join his fires like he normally does. His hand doesn't quite touch my lower back, but he remains close enough that I can feel his heat, a reassuring presence amid the stares.

"I'll come find you after weapons training," Raith says, voice low enough that only I can hear. His eyes scan the room, assessing threats even in this supposedly safe space. "I’ll find Bastian and tell him we need to talk like you wanted.”

I nod, trying not to think about how his lips looked when he said those words, or how his mouth felt against mine this morning. "Be careful," I say instead.

His smile is small and perfectly private. Just for me. "Always."

He leaves, the crowd parting before him like water around a stone. There’s an unmistakable aura of danger that makes students instinctively clear his path. I notice how the fires watch him go, their postures straightening as if his mere presence reminds them to stay vigilant, to be worthy of the trust he's placed in them.

"Well, well, well," Beck says as I slide onto the bench beside Mireen. "Look who's finally rejoined the land of the living."

"And with quite the escort," Ambrose adds. "I've been tracking the rumors about your absence. Would you like to hear the top three theories currently circulating?"

"I would not," I answer, reaching for a bread roll. My appetite has returned with a vengeance after days of illness, and I pile my plate high with roasted meat and vegetables.

"Too bad," Beck says with a grin. "Some of them are really funny."

"Still not interested," I say through a mouthful of bread.

Brunhild appears, dropping onto the bench beside Beck with enough force to make the table jump. She slaps a hand on the wooden surface, making our plates rattle.

"You come to training after meal," she says, her tone brooking no argument. "I show northern fighting style. Make you strong for Crucible. We focus on unarmed combat and grappling skills."

“Don’t we need to go to weapon’s training after we eat?” I ask. It has been a few days, and our schedules often shift around, but I’m pretty sure I remember that much.

"Is canceled,” Brunhild says, wiping something slick from her fingertips. “Someone accidentally spill cooking oil all over classroom floor. Too slippery to fight."

I stare at her. "Did you do that just so we had time to train together?"

"Brunhild has no control over where oil spills.”

I glance at her boots and see dark stains on them, then grin. "Right. Thanks, Brunhild."

She grunts in acknowledgment before stealing a slice of meat from Beck's plate. He watches her with puppy-like adoration, not even protesting the theft.

"Any news about Malakai's weapon stash?" I ask in a hushed voice, leaning toward Mireen.

Mireen shakes her head slightly. "Not here," she murmurs. "Too many ears."

I nod, understanding. Trust is in short supply these days, especially with the Crucible so close. I scan the dining hall, noting Malakai's contingent seated across the room. His one remaining eye meets mine briefly, his face twisted in a glare like usual. Serena has moved to stand beside him and is whispering something in his ear, her eyes never leaving me. The message couldn't be clearer: I'm their target, and they're not bothering to hide it.

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