chapter 16

Click. Click. Click.

The stairs retreat quickly, almost in time to pull Ryker to his death, his figure bursting through the entrance. He launches onto the ground, and both Kieran and I flinch, looking at the main door with racing hearts.

But it is silence that follows his flamboyant entrance, soon broken by Ryker’s unbelieving gasp, “You could’ve at least warned me.”

I smile apologetically and look around the room. It’s been a while since I’ve entered the small library, but the space is just as welcoming, the full moon pouring in a serene glow. Though, if I am not mistaken, it appears to be more worn than usual. There used to be a certain staleness to the room, as if it was only used in passing. But now it feels more…awake. Even the dust has retreated from its post, the shelves now flashing old polish.

I turn to Kieran, raising an eyebrow. He meets my eye and his cheeks tinge pink, quickly looking away.

“So this is the little library,” Ryker nods approvingly, hands on his hips as he spins in a circle, “As much as I’m enjoying our field trip,” he stops, looking between the two of us, “What are we doing here?”

Kieran lifts his book from his pocket, crossing the threshold to lounge naturally in the chair, the small, leather bound pages spread gracefully between his thighs, “We are here to discuss.” Kieran says simply, turning to a particular page.

“You found something?” Ryker asks, stepping to look over Kieran’s shoulder. I follow him, perching on a thick arm.

Kieran shifts in his seat, eyeing us somewhat skeptically, “The book was written over 300 years ago,” he explains, pointing to a strange date, “Mostly, it talks about the founding of Etari, and what the school stands for.”

“So the usual,” Ryker yawns, his teeth flashing somewhat canine, “Etrai is traditional, made after the god Helrion and goddess Merikna. To honor the sacred souls who-”

I smack Ryker around the head. He hisses, but takes the hint, and restrains himself, allowing Kieran to continue.

“You would think. But the book says differently.”

“What do you mean?” I ask, looking at the jumbled words with no avail.

“Here,” he drags a long finger down the page, “it says that the school was built as a plea to the gods.”

“A plea?” I interrupt, and this time Ryker pinches me.

“It doesn’t say what for,” Kieran frowns, ignoring our wordless spat, “Unless I’m not interpreting correctly. But it almost seems like Etari was built in hope of forgiveness. Or as a good omen for war.”

Kieran rubs his chin in thought, and closes himself off as he flips through the pages, rapping his knuckles like dripping rain.

“Hey, Mae,” Ryker pushes off the chair, falling back onto the couch, resting his head on a pink and beige pillow embroidered with flowers and bugs.

I turn to him, crossing my legs atop the couch’s arm.

He lifts his hands, face pulled into mangled concentration, and signs, “How’s the view?” He winks, a wolfish smile spread across his face.

I raise my own hand, but only lift one finger.

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

He snorts before signing once more, his face falling to stone, “On the wall.”

I fall slack and sign back, “No.”

Ryker tries to respond in silence, but gives up at the complexity and says, “Do you want to get Panthera back or not?”

I frown at him, even more so as he sweeps my legs from the couch, pulling me up from my seat. Groaning, he pushes me against a bookshelf, stepping back with his arms crossed and an eyebrow raised.

Muttering vile curses that are truly quite colorful, I crouch into a seat, hissing as he reaches to the shelves and drops a book onto my thighs.

“What is this supposed to do?” I pant, sweat already coiling on my scalp, “Torture me?”

“Something like that,” Ryker says seriously, watching with that damn face of instruction, “You won’t be able to best him without being in peak fitness. I hate to say it, but if Ambaby can bark, then Panthera can bite.”

My legs already burn with raging fire, and I find myself trembling after only a minute. Somewhat embarrassingly, Ryker removes the book, replacing it on the tall shelf. At last unable to stay crouched, I slide to a seat, kicking my legs out in front of me.

Ryker allows me my rest, turning to scan the books lining the walls as my mind whirs with the thought of Panthera. Everything about him turns me ablaze, the fury desperate to tear from my skin.

I haven’t told the boys of the other night. It would make no difference, and only cause panic, which if I’m being entirely truthful I have enough of already.

The words have played over my mind so much they never seem to leave, a shadow of them always there for me to feel. But at least it has fueled my sweltering hatred, which has only grown with each passing day.

Ryker pulls two books from the shelves, gesturing with his chin for me to stand. Groaning, but holding a new fire, I slide against the wall, and clench my teeth as he drops the tones onto my aching thighs.

⭒⭒⭒

Stumbling to a stop, I all but throw myself onto the ground, panting fiercely and red to the face. Ryker slides to a seat next to me, and Kieran runs an extra lap. I glance over, catching Kaiya’s eager eyes, almost licking her lips over how his shirt tightens against his muscled chest.

Smiling slightly, I turn away, leaning over my legs to stretch out the stiffening pains. Between Ryker and Pineherth, my body is being pushed to cracking. I’d almost think they were made for each other, with the constant, ruthless training. But not even Pineherth is as demented as Ryker.

Working through a series of stretches, I watch as Ryn flies down from the cloudy sky, circling the room before landing on Kieran’s shoulder, who has just come to a stop and soothes his feathers with a small smile.

After a while, when my limbs feel somehow more strained despite the unwind, we make our way to the muck hall, sitting at our typical end, Casanova and the Thornberns already seated.

The girls have been a welcome addition to our end of the table; the Thornberns often have useful advice, as they have come from a family of Shield’s that date clear back to the age of Draen. And while Casanova can be easily excitable, and often quite loud, she has a wicked sense of humor that can always be counted on to distract one from the trials of Etari.

“I hear we have another terrain test coming up,” Xena says, buttering her sourdough.

“Any rumors on what it’ll be?” Caline asks, drinking from her glass.

“Nah,” Xena puckers her lips, smushing crumbs with her thumb, “But I’d wager we’re leaving the mountain this time.”

“It won’t be the Forest of Ire,” Ryker says, serving himself a whopping plate of eggs, “I overheard a White saying that doesn’t come until the end of the year.”

“It could be the Swamp of Galiatta,” I muse, rubbing a sore spot on my shoulder.

“Or the Badlands.” Kieran says, carefully watching Ryn who is keyed into a White’s canary, almost vibrating with the urge to make a meal out of him.

“I just hope we don’t have to scale Evermeah again.” I say wishfully, swishing around oozing egg yolk as Caline grunts her agreement.

“Don’t worry, Mae,” Ryker smiles teasingly, puffing out his chest and pulling a face of mock heroism, “I’ll carry you up. You won’t have to lift a finger.”

Alec, who had been leaving the muck hall, stops at these words, scoffing and sneering as he snips, “Oooh, Fangera.” He croons, “Your servants will get you up the mountain. Don’t worry, they’ll do all the work.”

The pack squeals with laughter, and even Panthera pulls a tight smile.

“What are you?” Alec flashes teeth, sneering as he leaves, “A princess?”

Stiffening, I turn away from the rambunctious laughter, my fists curled as I stab into my plate. Wiesly, the others say nothing, and allow me to grumble all the way back to Moonridge, where I throw enough blades to consume the outer line, and at last strike inside the tearing body.