Page 72 of Daughter of the Drowned Empire
I slid into the pool, my front to the audience, back to the wall, beside Haleika, giggling helplessly into her hands. “You always knew how to make an entrance.” When her laughter died down, she said, “You can’t show fear here. I can’t explain it, but since the Oath, I can sense—almost smell it. If the others catch wind, they’ll prey on you.”
I pursed my lips together, willing myself to swallow despite my throat burning.
Haleika grinned, an almost conspiratorial twinkle in her eyes. “I think you just secured us this corner of the pool for the rest of the year.”
I nodded, feeling the warmth of the waters wash over my skin.
Cleaned and dressed, I followed the first-year novices to class. In a long lecture hall, we received our first lesson on combat theory with an overview of Lumerian anatomy. There was a short recess, then a similar lesson on the basic anatomy of akadim. The following forty-five minutes focused on weapons, specifically starfire, mined in Ka Kormac’s realm, Korteria. Having control over the mines had made them wealthy and powerful…too powerful. But we still relied on trade with the Afeya to forge the raw material. Following that, I attended class on the history of the soturi and healing.
By lunch, I was drained and still feeling queasy from the morning. I didn’t have the energy to go back to my apartment for lunch, or find a restaurant in Urtavia, which meant I was trapped in the dining hall. My taste buds and my upset stomach barely allowed me to swallow the stew being served. Haleika insisted I not only eat something to keep up my strength, but that it was the most effective cure for an upset stomach. I doubted there was a cure for the way it tasted, but I managed a few small spoonfuls. To Haleika’s credit, a little bit of my energy returned—which was good. I was about to start combat training with Rhyan.
He sat alone on the other end of the hall, his eyes sharp and roving the room as he chewed on a chunk of bread. A fresh tunic adorned him, tucked beneath black leathered armor and his belt. There was an arrogance in the way he sat: reclined, elbows comfortably on the table. It was the posture of a High Lord. He seemed so reluctant to embrace that side of himself, always trying to lean into and own his status as a forsworn. But he’d been raised to rule…and something in the way he sat showed it.
I wasn’t the only one to notice. Viktor Kormac stalked past his table, the silver claws pinned to the shoulders of his tunic gleaming with the afternoon’s sun. I stiffened, catching the predatory way Viktor sized him up and down. As the son of the Imperator and great-nephew to the Emperor, Viktor outranked Rhyan. But here, he was only a novice. Rhyan was an apprentice with kills under his belt—including an akadim. There’d be no contest in a fight.
As if he realized this too, Viktor stepped back, and with a nod, sent five of his wolves forward to circle Rhyan’s table. All five were apprentices, including Viktor’s, Brockton Kormac. He was a brute of a soturion with the beady, watery eyes of the Bastardmaker.
Brockton moved behind Rhyan, bracing against the table on either side of him, caging Rhyan between his arms. His muscles bulged.
Haleika and Galen stiffened beside me, as the insult was sensed across the dining hall.
“Five,” Haleika whispered.
“Morons,” said Galen. “Hart’s killed akadim and survived a bound five.”
A sensation of ice-cold power seeped through my bones. Rhyan’s aura expanded as another wolf stalked by.
“You don’t belong here, forsworn.” Brockton leaned forward, his cheek against Rhyan’s.
Rhyan stiffened. Several more Kormac wolves herded together, their beady eyes hungry for a fight, their stances and auras saying they were ready to pounce.
“Where don’t I belong?” Rhyan asked casually. He shifted his weight, pulling his cheek away from Brockton’s. “At this table? In this room?”
“In this country!” Brockton sneered.
“That’s patriotic of you,” Rhyan said. “I thought only Bamarians took offense at foreigners here. Are you not from Korteria?”
“You know damn well where I’m from.”
“And you’re offended I’m in this country? Is there something I should know? Has Korteria joined with Bamaria then?”
All around the room, novices and apprentices bristled. I felt my own breath catch.
“No, gryphon-shit,” Viktor said.
“Funny, because the other day, I met armed soturi bearing the sigils of Ka Kormac.”
“We’re protecting everyone,” Viktor said. “Donating our resources to keep things safe.”
Rhyan scrunched up his nose in response. “In that case, maybe you should send some actual soldiers next time. It took one kick to knock your pups on their asses.”
“You shit-eating mother-killer,” Brockton snarled. He turned his head suddenly, his mouth against Rhyan’s cheek, teeth bared, lips pulled back.
One second, Brockton was over Rhyan, and the next, he’d flown into the wall, his back smacking against the stone. A small hurricane blasted through the hall, cold as ice, with a burning fire underneath. It swept through the room, pushing everyone down into their chairs. All the Kormac wolves, including Viktor, were now on their asses.
“Like I said,” Rhyan stood, seething, “actual soldiers next time.” His green eyes burned as he stared down the room. He settled his gaze on me.
“Auriel’s bane,” Haleika said.
