Page 78 of Daughter of the Drowned Empire
Tristan's hand curled into a fist around his stave.
“She has combat clinic tonight," Rhyan said. "Academy rules. You see, a soturion’s day lasts a bit longer than the day of a mage.”
“Needing all the hours you can get just to find your way to the door?” Tristan asked.
“Again, should I be taking these insults personally? I’m assuming you don’t mean all soturi…which now includes the youngest Batavia.”
“Her grace,” Tristan said.
Rhyan stomped forward. “If you want her grace to survive this training, you will never burst into my personal training room again, my lord.”
“Enough!” I shouted. “Both of you!” Myself to Moriel, these two could never be left alone together.
They both took a step back, silent, watching me.
I’d forgotten about combat clinic. I wracked my brain for all I knew about it, trying to decide if there was a way I could do both the combat clinic and the dinner. The clinic for novices lasted anywhere from two to three hours and involved watching and participating in fives, then observing fighting maneuvers demonstrated by the soturion running the training. Apprentices attended their own clinics twice a week—otherwise they were expected to shadow soturi on patrol. The apprentice and novice clinics were separate aside from one night a month when we observed each other.
I inched closer to Tristan. “Can we risk asking her to reschedule?”
Tristan frowned. “You know she won’t.”
Fuck. I couldn’t afford to miss combat clinic—not the first day, not with the Imperator still in town. But I couldn’t afford to offend Lady Romula either. Missing the clinic tonight was playing with fire, but if I didn’t attend to Lady Romula’s dinner in my current position, I risked not being invited again. Even with my full status in hand.
I turned to find Rhyan. His back was to us as he rolled up our mats and piled them in a corner. Exhaling, I made my decision. I had to play the long game to ensure my safety. I had to secure my engagement.
“Tristan, I have to go to the clinic. Your grandmother will be fine eating dinner a little later than usual,” I announced. I gave Tristan a look, one that clearly let him know I was lying. He nodded in understanding.
“Of course,” Tristan said, voice stiff. “We can delay the dinner.”
“Perfect. See you tomorrow, Rhyan.”
Tristan spotted my bag on the ground and hauled it over his shoulder before taking my hand. “I’ll walk you back to your apartment.”
Rhyan turned when we reached the door. He reached into his bag then tossed a small pouch my way. “Take a hot bath, add these salts. Good for sore muscles. And stretch before bed. Don’t stay at the dinner too long.”
I nodded and followed Tristan into the hall.
“Your apartment only has a shower, right?” he asked.
“Right,” I said. “We have baths here, though. Or I could go to Cresthaven.”
Tristan shook his head. “That’ll take too long. Bathe here. I’ll wait in the hall.”
Sitting in the heated waters alone without the prying, judgmental eyes of my classmates seemed like Heaven. “You’ll guard the door?” I asked.
“With my life.” Tristan squeezed my hand.
A few minutes later, I sank into one of the smaller private pools, dumping the entire contents of Rhyan’s pouch in the water. Steam rose from the bath, scented with lavender and sun tree oils. I let the hot water rush over my body, leaning my head against the pool’s edge, and closed my eyes.
Ice cold water smashed against my face. I sputtered, unable to breathe or see. My head plunged under. Water shot up my nose and into my mouth. I barely had the sense or strength to lunge out of the pool, but as I rose to the surface, strong hands forced me back under. I was drowning, my arms flailing and legs kicking.
And then the hands were gone. I shot to the surface, slamming onto the marble floors as I gasped for air, coughing and spitting up. Goosebumps prickled over me; I was freezing in the cold air that bit my naked body. Ice water littered the pool’s edge. Shivering, I scrubbed the excess water from my eyes, frantically searching for my attacker. A small bucket had been left by the side of my pool, and on the other end of the room, I could just make out a single figure heading for the back exit—tall with silky black hair, and an opened tunic with a back full of bandages. Pavi.
The front door creaked open. “Lyr?” Tristan asked.
I slid back into my pool, splashing water everywhere and hissing in pain as my bare skin scraped against the bath’s edge. “Fuck!”
“Are you all right?”
