Page 45 of The Scars Within
“You’ll tell me later,” she said.
“Maybe.”
“That wasn’t a question,” Laney corrected, raising an eyebrow as a smirk spread across her face. She was teasing me like only a close friend could.
I flicked her on the nose.
“Cadets,” a professor called out.
The four of us turned our attention to the center of the room. Survival Training was held in an extended, open classroom, about a third of the size of the Great Hall. The space has a vaulted ceiling, benches lining the exterior, and an open front and center floor. Tall windows flank the two longest walls, while oak banisters crisscross the upper level at the height of a regular ceiling. A set of iron doors in the far back corner, I presume, lead outside.
All I know about this class is that it will cover the basic necessities of surviving in the field if we happen to be deployed offsite. The first year will focus on skills like firemaking, shelter building, fishing, and hunting. The more intense course, Arcane Warfare Simulations, will happen tomorrow.
The class went as expected on the first day. Professor Lamport reminded me a lot of Hogboom—scruffy and dull—but with a deep well of knowledge on the subject. Although Lamport clearly doesn’t like making eye contact with us, we covered the course expectations for the year and what we will be learning. Lamport described Survival Training as a preparatory course for War Campaigns, emphasizing that he would teach us what our elemental wielding classes wouldn’t.
One comment he made stood out to me.
The fiercest elemental is one who knows how to survive without their element.
How else would we survive if we were called into war? Mageia’s curriculum focuses on making cadets strong elementals,so Lamport’s words rattled me with confusion. Wasn’t the whole point of being a cadet here to harness our element? This is his first year teaching, just like Professor Yearwood. Maybe it’s him who is confused about what he was hired to teach us.
Or maybe I was just distracting myself from my nerves. In the dining hall, I scanned the crowd for Shayde among the cadets, hoping he would sit with us again and give me some hints about his plans for tonight. But there was no sign of Shayde—or his brother. Maybe something came up, and we’d just have to reschedule.
Yeah, that was probably it.
I kept telling myself that as my friends and I made our way back to the dorm. My nerves had finally begun to settle. For a brief moment, I even forgot what I was so anxious about when Laney made us all burst into laughter over something silly.
That moment vanished the instant we reached the top step of our hall, and I saw Shayde waiting by our door.
He was leaning against the stone wall, arms crossed, talking to Davis. When he looked over and caught my gaze, he leaned in to whisper something to Davis, patted him on the back, and started walking toward us. His confident swagger filled the space, commanding attention as he approached.
I saw confusion flicker across my friends’ faces as they slowly turned to see who Shayde was focused on—me. Cleo let out a low whistle.
Oh, I was going to smack her for that.
Heat rushed to my cheeks, this time from sheer embarrassment.
Tatum quickly grabbed Cleo by the arm, dragging her past Shayde and mouthing “sorry” as they passed. Shayde let out a deep, rich laugh before turning his gaze back to me.
“Ready?” he asked, those glistening brown eyes locking onto mine—the eyes I couldn’t say no to.
These Wylder brothers are going to be the death of me.
I decided to pull myself together and make a demand. “Yes, but on one condition.”
Curiosity twinkled in his eyes as he tilted his head. “And what’s that?”
I reached into my bag and pulled out my library book without breaking his gaze. “I need to exchange this first.”
He grinned, taking the book from my hand and wrapping his other arm around my shoulders. “Deal.”
We chatted about our days as we made our way to the library. Shayde, still carrying the book for me, stepped ahead to open the library doors, allowing me to enter first. After we submitted the book to the librarian, I led him up the weeping willow staircase to the section Laney affectionately calls ‘The Romantasy Goodies.’
Shayde propped one hand against the bookshelf as I began scanning the shelves and leaned towards me. “I’ve got to admit, this place isn’t what I imagined,” he said, his gaze drifting over the mezzanine, admiring the library’s beauty.
“Have you never been in here before?”
“Only briefly, on the first floor for classes,” his eyes returned to mine. “But never to browse. What are you looking for?”
