Chapter Text
The air may be cleaner on this side, but the grass is not greener. Several new cadets are hunched over and regurgitating their last meals on the concrete floor of the rider's quadrant. I know not to look, in fear that I might get sick as well, but gosh, the smell. No one warned her about the smell of sick cadets at the end of the conscription day. Sneaking a peak over my shoulder, I note that Violet and her other squad mates, along with the not-hard-to-miss Dain Aetos, stare at my figure in shock. Violet has her hand over her heart as she visibly breathes heavily. I shrug and walk out of their line of sight.
The parapet was never going to be a problem for me. Not when I spent most of my childhood balancing beams and perfecting the art of carrying all my weight on the tips of my toes. And I will carry on to never doubt myself with the upcoming challenges. I was trained by the very best.
"Impressive." Short bright pink hair and a face that I can recognize anywhere make my heart smile. Talk about the devil, and she shall appear. "Did not have to give Sorrengail a heart attack, though."
I shrug as the corner of my lips quirks up, "I wanted to make a good impression. Besides, it's not like I did it for her."
Pale green meets my golden irises, and I'm fighting the muscles in my body not to embrace Imogen. I've spent most of my life with her. After the execution, Imogen went from being the youngest sibling to the oldest. We never got separated through the years, while others were engaged in 'doing rounds' amongst various households. Separatists were not allowed to be in the same company for too long, because they feared a conspiracy would emerge to bring them down. They separated siblings, yet they could not trust the bonds created from friendship. They should be worried. "And, I would have expected more distaste for Violet from you."
"She grows on you," Imogen says longing in her eyes. Sometime in the last two years, she has transformed into this weapon of a woman. We're still the same height, but her muscles are more toned, and her hair is pinker than it was. "How were the last two years with Dundi?"
"Awful. Not Dundi, Laurel." I grimace. Our foster father was a fat and short wealthy lord who could never say no to sweets. It had something to do with the fact that his business did consist of owning multiple cake shops. I had to give him credit because the cakes he and his wife, Laurel Dundi, would bake could send a person's tongue to heaven and back. It's one of the best in Calldyr City. While Dundi never really cared about Imogen and me, Laurel cared a little too much. Unable to have children of their own, Laurel made a show that to try and raise modal ladies of the court. That meant no training, no leaving the house without a chaperone, and no interaction with the male species. It was suffocating, to say the least. "Although she did try to fight the official that came to take me."
Imogen lets out a knowing chuckle. "As insufferable as she was, at least she cared."
I shrug. That was the truth. All she wanted was children. She just didn't care how she got them. She ignored the part where entering the rider's quadrant was necessary for the marked children. I remember vividly how she would buy long-sleeved dresses just so that our relics would be covered always, no matter the season or environment. Cutting the sleeves of my dresses was one of how I rebelled against her.
“Go on, mingle. Formation is going to be in a few hours.” Imogen cocks her head to the rest of the crowd that’s forming. More candidates make it across the parapet, but more are falling. I nod and move past her. For a moment, I grasp her hand, and her hand squeezes mine before we release each other. Finally, I take in my surroundings, the courtyard is large enough to host thousands of riders, with walls that close us in, high enough to make it feel like we are secluded from the rest of the world. In a way we are. Each corner is marked with a rectangular tower that hosts the flags of Navarre. The shape of it is more of an angular teardrop. The parapet opening is flanked by a stone dais that stands close to it. The four-story buildings that are carved into the mountain finish the design of the rider's quadrant.
I spot Sloane seated under a shady shot on a hardened wooden bench. There is a distanced look on her face as I approach her side. “Why the face?”
She snaps out of her state and a look of anger passes through her, “How dare she!”
It doesn’t take a wild guess to know who ‘She’ is. I don’t blame Sloane for hating the youngest Sorrengail. Liam didn’t deserve the ending that he got. We don’t know what happened that day. Every letter I have received from Xaden is carefully written in a way that only I can decipher. But the messengers are cruel, and they tend to strike through most of the sentences even if they don’t mean anything. The only time I will know is when the people who were there that day tell me in person without wandering ears near. All I know is that Xaden had asked Liam to keep a close eye on Violet since they were in the same year and wing. In a way, it was partly Xaden’s fault, but I will never openly say that. It's just a thought based on not knowing the full information.
“No Sloane-“
“My brother is dead because of her.” She seethes. “I will always hate her. Nothing is going to convince me otherwise.”
“Liam would not put himself in danger for just anyone. You know this.” I try to reason with her.
“He would for Xaden. She’s tethered to him by that stupid mate bond. She dies, and so does your brother. And Liam saw that. There was no friendship between them.”
“I know you hurting right now, and if hating her helps you heal, then I am all for it.” I take her cool hand in mine. I internally cringe at how sweaty mine has gotten. “But we cannot ignore the fact that Liam did not mean anything to her. Look at how she tried to help you.”
Sloane rips the leather band from her hair and throws it on the ground in front of us. “I don’t need her help in anything. She can die for all I care.”
I wince thinking of the chain of events that will cause. She notices my look and winces as well. “I'm sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”
I shake my head dismissing the emotion that thought. “I know.”
She rests her head on my shoulder and exhales not caring if anyone sees us. “Judging from how you tried to defend her, I'm guessing that you trust her.”
No, I don’t. I don’t trust the daughter of the woman who had my father executed right in front of me. “I trust my brother's judgment of her.”
“And what is his judgment?”
“He hasn’t admitted it yet, but I think he's in love with her.” Trust her, not because I’m telling you to, but because she is worthy of your trust, Xaden wrote in his last letter. I will give her a chance. He’s never spoken to me about any of his past relationships, yet for the past few months, he’s been including little information about her in their letters. I find it cute but also entirely very stupid of him. He should have known better than to fall for the girl who has the power to ruin everything that he has worked for.
“Never took him for being in denial of his feelings.” Sloane jokes. “That’s more of a Bodhi thing to do.”
I laugh. My only cousin who was older by two years was standing near the stone Dias a couple feet away from us. Ever since I crossed the parapet and spotted him speaking with what looked like Leadership, I’ve been meaning to speak with him. But after he’s been throwing sneaky funny faces like sticking out his tongue or sniffing the air and making a disgusted face in my direction, I decided that I could wait until he's more mature to speak. As if he could sense us staring at him, he turns so his back faces us, and his arms are placed behind his back. A subtle rise of his middle finger is directed at us, and I can’t help but roll my eyes.
A tall figure moves in my peripheral vision that catches my attention, and I do a double take.
My blood instantly heats, and my breathing becomes heavier. Blinding rage is what I feel. From the tip of my toes to the hair sprouting from my scalp, my blood boils. It's not that gradual build-up, but more of a thread being snapped, and I jolt from the hot sting. My patience was the thread. From everything I could have expected from today, this was not it.
His back is to me, but I know it's him. My feet are moving on their accord. Clouds of rage block my vision, and my steps carry me to where it's directed. I hear Sloane call out to me and ignore it. Grabbing his arm, I force him to turn. My heart which was racing suddenly skips a beat, and I clenched my fist in his sleeve in order not to act out.
What irks me more is that unbothered look he has on. "What the actual fuck are you doing here?"
My words were sharp, but my tone kept calm. I may be angry, but I am not about to draw a crowd. Those sea green eyes that turn a hue of olive green in the sun stare back at me. Two strands of brown hair fall over it and visibly irritate his eyelids.
"That was rude." I didn't even see the short blonde standing next to me. With her hands on her hip and her ample boobs in my face, she sneers at it.
I match her sneer, "Piss off."
"Aaric?" She calls and my eyebrows rise in surprise.
I chuckle like a mad woman. My attention is back on the man next to me, "Really? You're hiding."
"You are disturbing us." She says again.
"Does it look like I care?" My patience is already running thin.
She clicks her tongue standing her ground. Her hands moved to cross over her chest. "Do you know who you talking to?"
I raise an eyebrow mimicking her movements. "Do you?"
Her eyes widen once she sees my rebellion relic. Her mouth opens and closes, but no sound escapes before she scurries away. Yeah, I thought so.
His large hand, which I didn't even know was resting on my waist squeezes, and I hit it away. He hasn't taken his eyes off me for the entire duration that I have been here. "What game are you playing now?"
"No game." His eyes are soft, and his voice is silk. I hate how I must bend my head to look up at him.
"I won't ask again, Cam." I feel shaking him to make him stop staring at me like...that.
"You look so pretty when you're angry." His confidence could make a person drunk. That's how intoxicating his allure is. But it only makes me see red right now.
I step away from his reach, my hands dangerously close to the dagger strapped to my thigh. Fingers twitch to pull it out and hit home.
"And you are as ugly as ever." It's childless and false. I haven't met another man more pretty than the one standing in front of me.
That sharp angular jaw and pointed nose and piercing eyes. My beats faster the more I refamiliarize myself with him. My brain is painting a permanent image of him, and I know it's going to haunt me in my dreams. I'm actively avoiding looking at the mop of curls at the top of his head.
He shows his arrogance in his smirk that only lasts for a second. "We need to talk when you're calm and we are alone."
"I have nothing to say to you." I grimace at him. He takes a step forward and I take two back.
"And I have plenty."
"What are you doing here Cam?" I snap.
"I was never going to just let you be here on your own."
"LET?" I laugh and the back of my eyes sting. "You have no say to let me do anything."
"You know what I meant." His eyes narrow. He wants to touch me; I just know it.
"No, I don't because I don't know you," I say with venom on my tongue. I want to hurt him.
"You know me enough." His eyes plead with reason. "We were more than just lo-"
"Go to hell." I hiss before he can finish that sentence. I can feel multiple sets of eyes on us and keep my voice lower.
"Wherever you go, I follow." He jokes with a chuckle. He takes in my serious look, and he clears his throat.
"You know what, I do not care. Do what you want. Just stay out of my way." I say as my parting words.
I turn my back on him. I want to laugh at how ironic that feels. Taking a few controlled breaths, I try to suppress the burning flame within. If my hair was open, I would have made sure it swung and smacked his face.
"We will have that talk Zerra." Is his last promise before I start to pretend that he doesn't exist.