chapter 15

After dinner, when the boys have served the ends of their punishment, we make our way to Moonridge, pushing open the door to find the training room waiting for us, the candles glistening brightly as if expecting our presence. The cracks in the ceiling are filled with black sky, but that doesn’t stop Ryn from flying out without saying goodbye.

Kieran watches him go, and turns back to me, his hands on his hips. Ryker storms to the middle of the room, dragging me with, and centers my stance as he prowls around me.

“What are you doing?” I ask, shying away.

He centers me again, and continues to stalk, his face held with the utmost seriousness, “What does it look like?” He asks, coming to a stop, “I’m deciding where to start.”

“She needs muscle,” Kieran mutters, brushing fingers through his hair.

“And cardio,” Ryker murmurs, rubbing his stubbled chin.

“I’m not some animal,” I frown, stepping out of the candle light.

“Not yet,” Ryker grins, “When I’m done, they’ll be calling you the beast.”

Despite myself, I snort, rolling my eyes.

“Alright, start with a run.” Ryker demands.

I gawk at him, flexing my hands, “You know I hate it, can we-”

“No!” He narrows his eyes, turning cold and unrecognizable, “If you want my help, we’re going to do it my way.”

I mutter under my breath but take off anyway, driven by the thought of Panthera’s cracked skull, his spine twisted into knotted rope. I circle the room, and Ryker meets my side, running silently as Kieran watches from the wall.

After running, Ryker assigns me weights, for so long I almost faint. Another hour passes and we move to knives, where he holds my hand steady and slaps me if I move.

“It feels weird,” I moan, after he pinched me when my fingers slipped back to Dax’s sacred hold.

“It’s going to feel weird,” he tsks, “I don’t know what he was thinking, setting you up like this.”

I glare at Ryker with intensity that could dismember him, but he brushes me off, stepping back to observe. He nods to himself, seeming satisfied, and gestures for me to start.

I take a deep breath, falling back to insecurity, and when I release the blade, it clatters into the wall. Ryker says nothing, even as Kieran at last joins, and waits for me to retrieve the knife, plucking it naturally from the ground. When I meet the boys, Kieran has a funny look on his face, observing the knife and my left hand.

“What?” I groan, my face reddening.

“Are you left handed?” He asks, cocking his head.

Ryker’s eyes widen as he snatches my wrist, looking at my skin as if it has the answer.

“I mean, yeah.” I blush, now fully scarlet, tearing my hand away and hiding it behind my back, “My father always made me use my right hand, he said it was unnatural.”

“Well, your father talks a load of shit,” Ryker growls, hands on his hips, “You’re telling me you’ve been using your nondominant hand this entire time?”

I shift on my feet, looking between my hands, “Yes?”

Ryker turns to Kieran, his eyes disbelieving, “She’s going to kill me.”

Kieran smiles and pushes me back to the line, making sure my hold is correct but this time in my left hand. He takes a step back when he has finished adjusting, and nods encouragingly despite my wearisome grimace.

Taking a deep breath, I turn to the target, and cock my arm. I release with my exhale and the knife flies with a smudge of grace, and pierces the target's outermost line.

My mouth falls open and I snap around, pleased to find Ryker smiling in tune.

“Did you see that?!” I squeal, spinning in a circle to observe the mark once more, “I did it! I actually hit the target!”

Ryker slaps me on the back and I almost fall on the floor, “Knew you had it in you.” He squeezes my shoulder hard and his face again falls serious, “Now do it again.”

⭒⭒⭒

“Ryker,” I hiss into his ear.

He rolls onto his stomach, exposing a vastly tattooed and muscled back. I groan, shoving his warm skin. Ryker grumbles, but makes no other move. Sighing, I stand, turning out into the corridor and up to the main hall.

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The castle is silent, and there is no sign of Kieran, though I know he must be somewhere. He wasn’t in bed. Sometimes I wish he would take me along, but mostly I’m thankful for the solitude. You don’t get much of it here. I’m sure he’s enjoying it as much as I.

I round a corner, and footsteps echo from the other side of the curved wall. I slip into one of my favorite nooks, a cushion coated ledge hidden behind a large tapestry of Leiyetta, and curl up silently, my ear pressed to the heavy, scarlett fabric.

“It’s growing worse,” a hushed voice frets, her footsteps soundless.

“From the sound of it, Theresan was almost overcome,” another woman whispers. They must be Shield’s, based on the soft swishing sound that I have grown to recognize as the swaying of tasseled shoulders.

“Thank the gods for the Mages,” the first sighs, “Without them the rot would have consumed all of us by now.”

My ears perk, but for two different reasons. The first being the mention of the Mages. What if that strange feeling Ryker had was from them placing protective spells? It has been said to happen, that the barriers can be felt. Maybe they felt so hollow because they were draining their energy for the shields. But more than that, I’m paying attention to the rot.

“Did you hear that Major Fraith’s wife has been contaminated?”

“Really?!” The softer voiced woman cries.

“Shh, Marien,” the other tsks, stopping her tracks before resuming, “I’m not supposed to know. I overheard him while I was guarding his office.”

“Has it progressed quite far?” Marian asks, her voice holding pain.

Just as the girls dip into another corridor, I hear her soft response, “Most of her chest has caved in, and her legs are just bone.”

My skin tingles, and I hold my arms tight to my chest. The memories of Dax and his final days strike me like a cut to the throat.

The rot is unbearable, and one of the most obvious signs of Everneza’s decay. It is caused by the drain of magic from our world, the sickness choosing its victims at random, making every person susceptible to the plague.

It starts with eating away at your skin, exposing bone and tendon. It works its way through your body, until it has nothing left to consume. Once your skin has melted from your bones, the only thing the illness has left is your soul.

When it devours a soul, it turns the person you once were into a monster. Unfeeling, only driven by violence and rage. The only way to stop it is by dying before the rot consumes the final shard of your being. Some choose to end it themselves, most need others to do it for them.

And Dax, poor, courageous, perfect Dax, became victim to this incurable disease. It only took two weeks for the plague to take full effect, the flesh from his face dripping onto what was once his bedroom floor. Father couldn’t stand it, and didn’t see him while he was sick. I was at his side every hour of the day.

The thought almost tears my chest open, exposing my mangled heart and soul. I have long since wondered why the rot did not take me. I should have been the obvious choice. Dax was strong, and bold, and powerful. I am not. To have him be taken is a sick joke. Leeching us of the warriors and leaving us with the lambs.

Shaking the chill from my aching bones, I go to push the tapestry when another set of footsteps rampage down the hall. These are less identifiable, but far louder, and thunk dramatically as one man catches up to another.

“PANTHERA,” the first bellows, turning my blood to frost. It would be impossible for me to not realize who it is, even hidden from his face.

The leading footsteps stop as the other approaches, standing so close to my nook I hold my breath.

“Alec,” Panthera says curtly, his breathing even while Alec is huffing enough to sweep the dust from the cobbled floor.

“What’s your deal?” Alec growls, “You sneak off every night. You think I don’t notice, but I do. What are you doing?”

Panthera sighs with theatrical flair, “Just enjoying the evening air.”

“Don’t pull that,” Alec snaps, “I’ve known you since we were kids. I know when you’re up to something.”

“Five years,” Panthera says bluntly.

“What?” Alec says, almost dumbly.

“We’ve known each other for five years. I wouldn’t say we were kids.”

Alec falls to strange silence, “Does it matter?” He blunders on, “I don’t care how long you’ve been with us, what I do care about is what you’re up to every night.”

“I’m not doing anything,” Panthera snaps back, growing more annoyed, “Like I said, I just needed some air.”

“What?” Alec laughs humorlessly, “Was watching Fangera dragged to the infirmary too much for you? Is that what you’re doing? Looking for her? Because her bed is empty, too.”

Panthera falls to deathly silence, and I can almost feel his anger vibrating.

“I don’t give a fuck about Fangera,” he snarls, his voice harsher than I have ever heard it.

“Then why didn’t you kill her?” Alec demands, “You had the perfect opportunity.”

“Why didn’t I-” Panthera starts, his voice lowering to lethal calmness, “I didn’t kill her because you made it very clear she belongs to you.”

My heart stops and I push up against the wall, so far I could blend into it.

Alec hisses, stepping away, “Well, to me it seems like you favor her.”

“Favor her?!” Panthera booms, making the tapestry sway, “Did you not tell us that if we took measures to see her dead, that you would kill us twice as brutally?”

Alec stays silent, and Panthera again cracks, “Didn’t you?!”

“Fine,” Alec says, louder than Panthera, “I did. Tell me that’s the only reason you didn’t kill her.”

Panthera falls silent, Alec’s heavy breathing the only sound, “Alec, if you didn’t tell us to leave her to you, I would have killed her the first night we got here.”

Alec sits on this, the hall deathly silent, “Fine. But if I see anything out of order.” He leaves it at that, likely gesturing some obscene threat.

“Then it’s a good thing she means nothing to me,” Panthera says bluntly, turning heel and disappearing down the hall.

Alec lingers for a moment longer, mumbling under his breath, before he too turns, though his steps recede in the opposite direction.

I wait for well over an hour before leaving my spot in the wall, my ears almost ringing with the event that was just laid bare. Having enough of secrets for one night, I wind back to the dormitory, and stare at the ceiling until real voices replace the ones looping in my head.