Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 69923 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69923 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Gaping, my bugged-out eyes watched his retreat. I wished there was ambiguity in what he said, but his meaning was unmistakable to everyone listening. Self-mastery would throw everything it had at me until I was either killed, or a power suddenly appeared and saved me. If a power did not appear, the culling would finish what this class started.
“Don’t let him scare you,” Nitsa whispered. “We’ve all got your back.”
“Break into groups of ten,” Kazran called. “Newcomer, hang back. I’ll tell you where to go.”
I watched my friends shuffle off with guilty looks and mouthed “sorrys.” So much for that. No one would have my back.
The group split into packs of ten and each followed a proficient to their own corner of the stadium. There was only me waiting beside the platform, asking myself if Instructor Kazran was planning to see me burned or thrown off a cliff.
“Galanis,” he barked, waving me over. “Here.”
I turned toward him and froze. A group of five stood in front of Kazran and a tall, long-haired woman with battle armor and a bored expression. It was Alexander, Sirena, and her handmaidens.
“Why?” I asked, not moving a muscle. “What’s her power?”
“You’ll find out soon enough. Come. Now.”
I considered arguing, then I considered what Kazran’s punishment would be for disobeying him. Scrolls or worse?
I’m not going to find out. I walked up to the group, stiffening with each step. Alexander’s stare was a thousand needles digging into my skin.
“I’m not without mercy,” Kazran said. “You’ll go last to see how it’s done. Learn from them and formulate your plan for defeating Proficient Catherine.”
I glanced at my simple white tunic and brown pants. “Can I have armor or gear—?”
“Have you had a single combat class?”
“No.”
“Then what would you do with gear?” he asked, brows cocked. “Throw it at her?”
Sirena and her friends burst out laughing, heating my cheeks. “But what if—”
“Try not to kill her,” Kazran said, turning his back on us. “Begin.”
It was just the six of us.
Try not to kill her? Was he talking to our group or to Proficient Catherine?
“Move aside, traitor.” Sirena came straight at me, forcing me to jump aside or get mowed down. “Kazran said you’re last and least—where you’ve always belonged and who you’ll always be.”
I barely heard her. Closing the distance between me and Alexander, he tracked my approach like a predator. I just wasn’t sure if the predator was him or me.
Sirena said Galen’s death destroyed him. A brief moment seeing them together and I believed her. Alexander was so light and free that morning, laughing with Galen in the stadium. A freeness I didn’t see during that long journey with his brothers-in-arms or the string of women going in and out of his room.
“Alexander,” I began. “I should’ve come to you before. Said this sooner. I’m sorry about what happened to Galen.”
His face was chipped in stone.
“I didn’t know him but in that short while, he was kind, brave, and strong. He was someone I believe would’ve made me better for knowing him, and I’ll carry the pain of never getting that chance for the rest of my l-life.” I stumbled over my words, growing more unnerved by his stillness. But this had to be said.
Mama used to tell me that it was our duty to apologize when we’d done wrong. Whether or not that apology was accepted. Whether or not forgiveness is given. The true shame was not admitting your wrongdoing at all. She would say a person who goes their whole life without apology was not someone she wanted to meet.
Mothers give more lessons than they do examples. But this is one I can keep on my own.
“I know you don’t have the highest opinion of me, but know if I could take back what happened, I would. I—”
“Come closer.”
A second passed before it penetrated that the words came from his lips.
“Closer,” he repeated, raising a soft hand dotted with calluses. A warrior’s hand. “Aella.”
Maybe it was my name. Maybe it was the way he said it—caressing it on his tongue like he’d done every time since he tricked it out of me.
I moved closer and he came to meet me—the tips of our boots brushing together. My breath caught as he palmed my cheek, skin molding to me as though it was meant to be there all along.
Alexander leaned over me, brushing the tip of his nose against mine as gentle as the ghost of his exhale on my lips. I stopped breathing altogether.
“Uh, Xander,” trembled one of the handmaidens. “I don’t think...”
She faded in the background as everyone did when Alexander brought me closer still. Not a hair could sneak between our bodies, and I blushed at my breasts flattening against his chest. Eight years in a mountain cave did not prepare me for this.