Chapter 19: Mat Nineteen

You can never become like them, Thana. It's not who you are. I know the rage and the grief eating at you—I feel it too. None of this is fair. None of this is just. But don't let this place strip you of your soul, don't let it turn you into a killer.

Excerpt of recovered correspondence of Lieutenant Xaden Riorson to Thana Valaren.

~

December bled into January, and life settled into a rhythm Thana didn't mind. Days were spent flying with Valka, training with Garrick, and waging a relentless, maddening war with her signet. It wasn't that she resisted it—the damn thing simply refused to obey.

Now, she sat at the back of the battle briefing, forcing herself to block Valka's presence from her mind. Xaden's advice echoed through her thoughts: Visualize it as a room, full of doors. But the harder she tried, the more doors appeared—endless, suffocating. And every single one felt like an open invitation for Valka to waltz right in.

Bodhi's rhythmic tapping against the desk burrowed into her skull. She shot him a glare, catching the ever-present glint of mischief in his eyes. Of course, he was smirking. Bodhi always carried that insufferably amused look, like he was in on a joke no one else could hear.

His fingers ghosted over the back of her hand, the touch featherlight, deliberate.

Thana, patience thinning to a razor's edge, turned her glare on him. "Bodhi, stop." She clenched her jaw, willing herself to focus on the endless, infuriating doors.

He only leaned in, his breath warm against her ear. "Stop what?" His fingers traced slow, lazy patterns along the desk's edge.

Her grip tightened around the armrest. "Drumming. Between your tapping and Valka's humming, I'm this close to losing it."

"Tell him to stop," Bodhi said.

"Tell him to stop," Valka echoed.

Thana exhaled sharply. "Why don't you both stop?" she snapped, louder than intended. A few heads turned.

Bodhi just smirked and reached for her hand, his thumb moving in slow, familiar circles against her palm. The tension in her shoulders eased—just a little. She took a breath.

Before she could thank him, the briefing began.

~

Thana stood beside Garrick in the gym as Professor Emetterio directed people to different mats, his voice echoing over the murmurs of riders preparing for their fights. She had heard that Jack was supposed to take on Violet today, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she felt the stirrings of something resembling excitement.

Scanning the crowd, her gaze landed on Liam, who was helping Violet strap her gear into place. Imogen stood beside them, adjusting a buckle, while Rhiannon leaned in, offering hushed words of encouragement. It was more than Garrick would ever do for her—but then again, Thana didn't need the pep talk.

"On mat nineteen, Violet Sorrengail from Fourth Wing versus..." Emetterio's sharp eyes scanned the room. Jack was nearly vibrating beside her, rocking on the balls of his feet like a caged animal ready to pounce. If Thana had to guess, he'd been looking forward to breaking Violet's neck all week. Too bad Xaden wasn't here to witness it.

But then, Emetterio's gaze passed right over Jack and landed on her. "Thana Valaren," he announced with a nod.

Something dark and eager uncoiled in her chest. Across the gym, Violet went rigid. To her credit, she didn't look relieved to have dodged Jack. No, she was smart enough to know she hadn't gotten lucky.

Thana stepped forward, and her eyes met Liam's. His face had gone pale, lips pressed together in silent pleading that only made her angrier and more determined.

With deliberate movements, Thana reached down, unsheathing the twin daggers strapped to her thighs. Jack let out a sharp bark of laughter behind her.

"You're dead, Sorrengail," he taunted, his voice low, edged with something lethal.

Violet and Thana stepped onto the mat at the same time. And just as they did, Xaden entered the gym. His expression was unreadable, but the tension in his shoulders betrayed him. He wasn't nearly as indifferent as he wanted people to believe.

Emetterio barely let the moment stretch before he called, "Begin."

Violet moved first.

She was quick—faster than Thana had given her credit for—but speed alone wouldn't win her this fight. She darted in, feinting left before swinging her fist toward Thana's ribs. It was a clean, well-practised strike. But predictable.

Thana caught her wrist mid-air and wrenched it sideways, twisting until Violet gasped in pain.

Before she could capitalize on the opening, Violet drove her knee up, slamming it into Thana's side. The force of it was enough to loosen her grip, and Violet tore free, stumbling back a few steps to regain her footing.

The crowd roared—some cheering, others mocking. Thana blocked it all out. She honed in on her opponent, drowning out the world until there was nothing but the fight.

Violet was still too cautious. Too defensive.

Thana rushed her. Violet barely had time to react before she was forced to duck under a brutal swing. She tried to counter, throwing a quick jab toward Thana's jaw, but Thana sidestepped it with ease.

A flicker of movement from the corner of her eye—something flying through the air.

Liam.

A pole clattered onto the mat between them. Thana snatched it up before Violet could, spinning it in her hands with practised ease. Violet hesitated for half a second. That was all Thana needed.

She swung.

The pole cracked against Violet's ribs, sending her staggering sideways. Another strike to her shoulder forced her to her knees. She tried to roll away, but Thana was relentless. She brought the pole down, aiming for Violet's forearm, and was rewarded with a sickening crunch.

Violet cried out, falling onto her back. Thana didn't stop. She flipped the pole, driving the blunt end into Violet's gut, knocking the air from her lungs. Violet's body convulsed before going utterly still.

Unconscious.

The gym fell silent for half a breath. Then chaos erupted.

Professor Emetterio and Ridoc lunged forward, shoving past the stunned crowd to reach Violet. Thana let the pole drop, its clatter drowned beneath the shouting. She turned away, stepping off the mat without a second glance.

Garrick let out a low whistle beside her. Jack clapped her hard on the back on his way out. Xaden, however, wasn't smiling. His voice was quiet but edged with something sharp as he asked, "What the fuck was that?"

Thana didn't stop walking. Didn't even look at him.

"She's not dead," was all she said before disappearing out the door.

~

Thana scrubbed at the tray with more force than necessary, her fingers aching from the relentless motion. The kitchen smelled of soap and yesterday's stew, the monotonous work dulling the sharp edges of her thoughts—until Ridoc walked in. His expression alone made her shoulders tighten.

"Violet's fine, by the way," he said casually as he stepped up beside her.

Thana didn't pause. "I'm sorry to hear that."

She felt it immediately—the way Ridoc tensed at her side. Calculating, no doubt. Trying to pick his words carefully so he wouldn't befall the same fate as Violet.

"Liam threw Violet that pole to use against you," he said after a beat.

"Maybe she should've moved faster." The words came out cold, dismissive.

Ridoc cursed under his breath and dropped the plate he'd been washing into the sink with a sharp clang. Water sloshed onto the counter as he turned to face her, his jaw tight with barely restrained frustration.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" he asked.

Thana set the tray down with deliberate slowness before looking up to meet his gaze. Her voice was low, almost steady, but venom laced every word.

"What's wrong with me?" She let out a sharp, humourless laugh. "Her mother had our parents killed, Ridoc. And still, Violet Sorrengail gets to walk around free while we're marked for a death sentence." The rage she'd kept buried twisted inside her, clawing at her ribs, demanding release.

Ridoc exhaled sharply. "We're all in this shit, Thana."

"I do not pity you, Ridoc," she spoke through bared teeth. "You are here by choice. Your fate is not in the hands of Lilith Sorrengail."

The words landed. She saw it in the way his face twisted, in the flicker of shame that crossed his features before he could mask it.

Good.

Thana ripped off her gloves and threw them onto the bench, the slap of wet fabric against the metal punctuating her fury. Without another word, she stormed out, the heat of her anger burning beneath her skin.

How dare he stand there, acting like they were in the same position. As if he was sealed by the same fate, crushed under the weight of decisions made for him. As if she should just swallow her rage, forget the fire that had incinerated innocent men, and move on like it didn't matter. Like her father didn't matter. As if she owed anything at all to Violet Sorrengail.