Текст книги "Horns of Wicked Ebony"

Автор книги: Lacey Lehotzky

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Текущая страница: 13 (всего у книги 43 страниц)

His confession and his story about Thast cast all of those choices into a new light. To Rokath, the strict enforcement had been a way to ensure that never happened again. For him to continue to bend and break them for me was a testament to his adoration. To the way we loved each other.

I scratched his beard, then hooked my fingers together at the base of his neck. Staring into his dark eyes, I professed with words what the bond already told him. “I love you.”

He grabbed my wrists and freed his head, kissing each of the H’s he’d carved into them. “And I you, Assyria.”

Our lips met again with tender care, and he ran his knuckles up and down my ribcage. With a sigh, I pulled back.

“Hurry with your hair. You can bathe again later while I speak with Olet,” he said, his voice low and gravelly. Then, he released me to turn on the taps again.

Grabbing a bar of soap from atop a now-soaked pile of bath sheets, I quickly worked it into a lather and cleansed myself. Then, I unbraided my hair and dunked beneath the flow of water. Scratching my scalp, I attempted to remove as much sand as possible. Unfortunately, my locks would take more than a single wash to return to normal. With a huff, I gave up, deciding I was refreshed enough to eat among the males—especially given that even in this state, I was still cleaner than they were in the war camp.

Rokath found us clothes while I dried and fixed my hair so it wouldn’t drip all over the floor. Grem and Zeec snoozed on their beds as we reentered the sleeping chamber, neither bothering to crack an eye at our departure.

“So how late are we?” I asked with a little giggle as Rokath strapped daggers to his person. He wasn’t dressed in full armor, at least, though his attire was no less intimidating than it would have been otherwise.

Rokath flicked his attention to the clock on the wall. “By the time we get there, only half an hour.”

“Oops,” I shrugged, pulling on my boots. Rokath grumbled something about me under his breath, and I threw a pillow at him.

He caught it handily before striding over to me and yanking me upright. Then, he wrapped a hand around my throat, stroking my fluttering pulse. “Let’s go before I decide to skip dinner altogether and punish that smart mouth.”

I offered him a saccharine smile. Then, he looped his arm over my shoulders and steered us out of his rooms and into the long spiral staircase that would bring us back to reality.

The roar of voices shook the stone around us as we approached the dining hall, and my stomach rumbled loudly as the scent of roasted vegetables and freshly baked bread reached my nostrils. To put it mildly, camp food was little more than a torture device designed to nourish us.

Real food? At the moment, that was better than any sex Rokath could give me.

“Clearly I did not make you come hard enough, little imposter.”

I stopped in my tracks, a scoff slipping out of me. He’d been drifting in my thoughts and I hadn’t even realized.

Smug satisfaction met me when I cursed him down our bond.

Rokath strode forward with powerful, confident strides, leaving me behind. With a huff, I jogged to catch up, throwing my shoulders back and embodying his attitude. These males, for the most part, were all new to me. I’d held my own with Parancsok Olet earlier, and now it was time to prove myself to the rest of them.

Hopefully the ones who traveled with us would spread the word of my newfound infamy and whispers of my Giver-blessed power would garner their favorable regard.

At the end of the hall, two doors were thrown wide, and inside, the mass of males moved, ate, and spoke to one another. But when Rokath entered the vast commons, conversation ceased, movement slowed, and mouths stopped chewing. Though he didn’t don his ebony horned helmet before we departed, his aura alone was enough to intimidate and command respect.

Those standing dropped to one knee. Those seated bowed their heads. But one word whispered from every mouth as we passed by: Halálhívó. He didn’t deign to look at a single one as we approached a high table with a view over the entire room. Parancsok Olet was already there, along with Rapp, who looked more pissed off than when we’d left him with the healer earlier.

Yet when I sat down, he shot me a salacious wink. My cheeks flamed, then heated more as hundreds of pairs of eyes landed on me. These ones weren’t accustomed to seeing me veilless. But I refused to show a hint of indecision. I’d chosen before we left Gyor Palace to never wear a veil again, and I would not waver in that now.

When I’d first ventured out in the war camp, I’d been judged as Rokath’s fallen. Whispers of our intimacy—or lack thereof—abounded. Still more about my burgundy eyes and what I’d done to be shackled to the Halálhívó. Pointed stares, conversations falling as I approached then rising after I passed, and absolute avoidance of my path had prepared me for this battle.

At this point, I was basically immune to the males’ scrutiny.

So I steeled my spine and ignored the room exactly as Rokath had. “Parancsok Olet, Hadvezér Rapp,” I greeted them formally, since we had an audience.

“Szélhámos,” they replied. The conversation picked up again among the males seated below us, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

A moment later, a young male appeared with mugs and a pitcher, placing one in front of Rokath and me and filling them with a citrus water. I reached for my glass, only to be stymied when another appeared with trays of food.

Roasted fish in some sort of white sauce filled one plate, while another brimmed with wilted greens. A hunk of bread and some cheese waited at the top corner. The two backed away quickly, disappearing before I’d had a chance to orient myself to what had occurred. Rokath wasted no time grabbing a knife and fork and tearing into his meal, so I took my own and mimicked him. Olet and Rapp resumed eating too.

“How was your journey?” Olet asked us, his plate already empty. Even in the war camp, everyone ate quickly, no matter what was in front of them.

“Thankfully, uneventful,” Rokath started, pausing to sip from his water. “Though Hadvezér Rapp’s constant complaints kept us all entertained.” His gaze cut to Rapp, who stabbed at his fish only for it to fall off his fork when he lifted it. A string of curses fled his lips, and I smothered a giggle at his expense.

“I swear if anyone tells me I can’t start training again in the next week, I’m going to do it anyway. Damn the consequences,” he grumbled, managing to secure his food this time.

“And what did the lead healer have to say?” I asked him, my tone light and teasing.

“Not that,” he grumbled around a mouthful of his dinner.

Olet and Rokath fell into conversation while I tucked into my plate, consuming every last bite. Afterward, my stomach ached from being so full, but I didn’t care. Not when a month ago, I’d nearly died in the desert.

I was going to savor everything life had to offer from here on out.

Including the dessert that the servers placed in front of me a moment later. I’d barely taken two bites when another gong sounded, and I let out a loud groan. Around the tables below, the males rose, forming neat lines to return their plates and glasses.

The servant appeared, and I waved him away. There was no way I was surrendering this. Not yet at least. Besides, I was the Szélhámos now and I got to break a few rules, whether Rokath wanted me to or not.

He raised a single dark brow in my direction. I offered him a similar glower in return, daring him to challenge me. With an irritated sigh, he let me be, telling the servers to take everyone else’s plates first.

I shoveled the rest of the cake into my mouth, barely catching the crumbs that spilled from it. Then, the plate was snatched out from under me.

“Welcome to life at the military academy, Assyria,” Rapp chuckled, swaying to his feet.

I’d lived through worse. Survived a husband who thought he owned me. Held my own against Rokath as we fought each other for control. Escaped death at the hands of the Angels.

But this place? This was going to test me in a way I’d never been before.

Here, I wouldn’t simply stand beside Rokath as his mate.

I’d step into my identity as an Imposter and remake the realm.

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20

The clanging bell yanked a groan from my throat. I rolled over, hand smacking for a pillow, and then dragged it over my head to smother the sound. Rokath snatched it away a moment later.

“Time to rise, little imposter.”

I cracked an eye, the outline of him barely visible in the darkness. “I hate you.”

He chuckled and slid from the bed. Grem and Zeec shook out their fur, ears flapping loud enough to join that damn wake up call. I reached for the blankets to shove them overhead. Two hands closed around my ankles, and without warning, I was yanked from the soft mattress and onto my feet.

“Now I really hate you,” I quipped, a shiver wracking my frame.

“Dress quickly. The next gong sounds in ten minutes,” Rokath told me, striding away.

“Ten minutes?” I groaned, rubbing the heels of my palms into my eyes. This asshole had dragged me from the deepest slumber I’d had in months. The moment I’d returned to our room the previous night, I’d passed out. Had barely roused when Rokath returned.

Fumbling around, I found my clothes and pulled them on. With few precious minutes until the next glorious chime sounded, I laced up my leathers while I stumbled to the bathing chamber.

My mate stood in front of the mirror, running a razor over his scalp. I went to the basin and turned the taps, cupping my hands beneath the frigid water and splashing it on my face. It was…refreshing to say the least. Blinking through the droplets clinging to my lashes, I found a cloth and dried my face.

“While we wait for Xannirin and Kiira, I want to test the limits of your magic. What’s possible, what’s not,” Rokath said, swiping a damp hand over his head.

A smile bloomed on my face. “I can’t wait. I never really had anyone to teach me before you. Everything I know I figured out on my own, by accident.” I’d spent so long hiding my power, at my mother’s behest, I’d almost grown afraid of it. But now, I was stepping into who I was meant to be, and that meant owning every bit of magic that the Giver had blessed me with.

My fingers flew through my hair, pulling the dark strands into a long plait. The tight weave pulled my locks away from my face, highlighting my high cheekbones. Excitement danced in my eyes as I looked at myself in the mirror. “Ready,” I pronounced, spinning to face Rokath.

The breakfast gong sounded at the same time, pulling a small laugh from me. At least this time, we wouldn’t be late for our meal—which was probably why Rokath had dragged me out of bed.

By the time we reached the bottom floor of the keep, the halls were a flurry of activity. Males descended from their watch posts, looking far more alert than those who had risen with us. All streamed toward the heavenly smell of rosemary bread. My stomach rumbled at the promise of food.

Swept up in the tide, we entered the commons. Rokath tucked me close to his side and steered me away from the deep line of soldiers and toward the high table.

Olet and Rapp were already there, the latter looking far better than he had the previous day.

“Morning,” I greeted Rapp, giving his good shoulder a squeeze before taking a seat beside him. Rokath took the chair opposite me, with his officers positioned between us.

Olet turned his attention to me immediately. “Szélhámos, I’d like to extend my sincerest apology. Had I known you were the mate of the Halálhívó, I never would have struck you.”

The muscles of my back flinched at the memory of how he’d whipped me. I swallowed around the feeling of helplessness that arose with it. Rokath’s rage flared down our bond. I flicked my attention to him. The reminder was nearly as painful for him as it was for me. Jaw clenched, he offered me a small dip of his chin, letting me know I was supposed to lead.

“Parancsok Olet, I hope that you aren’t only sorry because of who my mate is. Females do not deserve the treatment that had been afforded us for the past few centuries,” I said, each word measured and brimming with challenge.

Rapp’s fingers tightened over the table as he waited to see which way the exchange would fall. Rokath kept his gaze firmly on me.

Olet blew out a long breath. “I apologize for that as well, Szélhámos. You are absolutely correct in that assessment. While the Halálhívó’s plan shocked me at first, the wisdom in it is sound. My sisters were both married off young, and I’ve hardly seen them since I joined the army. Unfortunately, my perspective had been limited by that. I hope to gain new insight upon the arrival of our new recruits.”

My eyebrows shot up my forehead, but I quickly smoothed my expression and offered him a soft, sincere smile. “Thank you, Parancsok Olet. All is forgiven between us.”

The tension bled from his shoulders. “I am glad to hear it.”

A moment later, four steaming trays emerged from the kitchens, the servers placing them before us with practiced efficiency.

“Olet came around quickly after I told him of our plans last night. I wasn’t expecting him to apologize to you though. You handled yourself well,” Rokath said as water, juice, and steaming tea followed the food.

I sipped from the juice as I replied. “Thank you.”

“After we’re finished eating, I’ll give you a tour,” Rokath told me aloud a moment later.

I cocked my head to the side as I studied him. “We skip the tour and go straight to training.”

“It seems I might have empowered you a little too much, little imposter. Do not forget I am in charge here,” Rokath spoke into my mind.

My grin was fiery and saccharine. “For now.”

“Do you have plans to overthrow my rule?” he asked, amusement lifting his tone.

“Depends on how quickly you teach me to thoroughly stab someone to death,” I quipped, picking up a fork and shoving them forcefully into my eggs for good measure.

A laugh echoed down our bond, but he kept his expression neutral. “Fine, we’ll go to the training yard. Rapp can observe so he feels like he’s still important.”

Rapp grumbled. “If we weren’t in front of all these soldiers–”

“You’d have some choice words for him,” I teased.

“Exactly,” Rapp replied, popping a flaky piece of pastry into his mouth.

I ate quickly, finishing—thankfully—before the gong sounded. Draining the last of my water, I rose, waiting to see if Rapp needed my help. He shot me an annoyed look. I merely pressed my lips together to keep from grinning.

Olet strode toward the soldiers’ tables and pulled out a parchment, reading off the day’s assignments. Meanwhile, Rapp, Rokath, and I worked our way through the commons and out into the hall.

Excitement thrummed in my veins, our slow progress only serving to heighten the emotion. While I’d trained prior to the rescue mission, it was paltry compared to what I wanted to learn. Today, I was finally going to unlock the mysteries of my magic. Today, I was going to discover parts of myself I’d kept hidden for far too long.

Today, I was taking the first steps into becoming the Szélhámos.

The training area on the east side of the academy was already a hub of excitement by the time we reached it. Metal clashed against metal, mingling with the shouts of males sparring in hand to hand combat. The yard was massive, with enough space for training with weapons or magic, and a place for onlookers to observe the pairs fighting. Above, covered walkways allowed glimpses from passersby, while a grandstand sat off to one side, where sweat-soaked males reclined.

On the bottom most row, Olet sat, shouting at a pair utterly failing to execute some complex move with long staffs. More officers were off to another side, instructing what looked to be a group of Destructors facing off with an especially large tree trunk.

Most were too focused on their tasks to notice Rokath, Rapp, and I clinging to the periphery. “We’ll search for a quieter space to practice so you can focus,” he spoke into my mind.

Rapp settled next to Olet, barking instructions to another group. Rokath and I continued on, finding the space behind the stands blissfully empty. While the yells and sounds of fighting were still audible, it was low enough that it was mere background noise.

Off to one side, spare weapons and bales of hay waited, and Rokath dragged one forward, then settled himself on it. “Let’s start with your shadow power. Show me how much you can conjure.”

Nodding, I closed my eyes, digging into my magic well. It opened readily with so much use over the past few months. The smoky swirls spilled out of my palms as I exhaled. I delved deeper, immersing myself in the way they felt both in my chest and against my skin. All around me, magic darkened into existence. Yet, I hadn’t glimpsed the depths of my limits. So I continued to drink until the bottom of an empty glass appeared.

I halted there, not wanting to overextend myself, and opened my eyes.

A gasp fled my lips as I realized just how much I’d filled the area around us with wispy strands of black. A sea of them curled around Rokath’s feet, and he drank me in like I was his salvation after a week in the desert. The sight healed another shred of my tattered heart. There was no question of his adoration of me, not when he looked at me like that.

Almost instinctively, I raised a hand, the tip of my finger dragging through the air to direct my magic up his body. He didn’t move, merely kept watching me, as I wrapped the tendrils around his torso and his arms. When his black clothing had nearly been replaced by my power, I curled my fingers into my palm and yanked.

Obsidian ropes forced Rokath to his feet, to which he responded with a wicked grin. “You really are asking for it today, aren’t you, little imposter?”

“Maybe,” I replied, my own lips curving into a mischievous smile. Rokath had used his powers with me multiple times, and I’d always been impressed by the mastery he possessed.

I wanted that.

Training with him prior to the rescue mission had shown me I’d barely scratched the surface of what I could do with my burgundy eyes.

“Release it so you still have some magic left to test your secondary power,” he murmured. When I loosened my grip on him, he reached out, running his fingers through the onyx ink as it retreated inside me. The awe with which he viewed my power made my low belly heat.

When it had all vanished, he sat back on the bale of hay. The way he studied me made me want to squirm, but I held still as I waited for him to speak. His mind was whirling far too quickly for me to chase his thoughts. “Have you only ever attempted to create someone else’s body? Never their clothing?”

I shook my head. “Only them. When I would sneak out of Vagach’s house, I’d steal his clothes and make a new form to fit.”

A muscle feathered in Rokath’s jaw at the mention of my deceased abusive husband.

Did I love his violence because he would have protected me from that situation had he known?

Rokath’s fierce claim, his savage protection, his brutal love…the way I savored all of it should have made me feel ashamed. Yet he’d only encouraged that side of me every time it emerged. Trauma had brought out jagged shards of ebony in both of us, and as we revealed them to one another, they only served to twist our bond tighter.

Rokath ripped my focus back to him with a new command. “Try it now.”

“To become someone else with their clothes on?” I questioned, tucking a wayward strand of hair behind my pointed ear.

“Aye,” he replied, shifting his weight on the bale.

Nodding, I dove into my well again, picturing Kiira the last time I had seen her. The silky straightness to her dark locks. The litheness of her frame. The long sleeved wrap dress and the delicate diamond chain that wrapped around her neck and dipped between her breasts.

Ink twisted around me, like Rokath had suggested I do to decrease the time it took to create a new form, as I continued to call details to the front of my mind. A moment passed, then another, as I sharpened the image.

Then, I relaxed my fingers, magic slipping away with the breeze. Heart hammering against my ribs, my focus trailed down. Though I still wore my leather pants, the illusion of a long sleeved silk top glittered with diamonds.

I lifted my gaze, meeting Rokath’s. He assessed me with those battlefield commander eyes, unfazed by who I chose to impersonate.

“Trying to look like Kiira at the ball?” he clarified, referring to the split second I’d gotten to enjoy myself in Gyor Palace before he dragged us both from the room.

“Yes,” I stated. He rose, then circled me like a predator.

“So it’s possible to conjure clothing, but you need practice doing it,” he murmured, almost to himself.

“Thank you for stating the obvious,” I replied anyway, rolling my eyes.

He halted in front of me. Releasing the form, I tipped my head up to look at him. Something hungry danced in his eyes. “Watch that smart mouth if you don’t want it punished later,” he warned, his tone gravelly and filled with wanton promise.

“What else would you like me to attempt, master?” I quipped, letting the last word roll off my tongue with a healthy dose of snark.

In one smooth motion, he had his hand wrapped around my throat. Stroking the underside of my jaw, he elicited a shiver. “You truly are testing me today, Assyria,” he rumbled, but there was no animosity in his words. The bond flooded with lust.

He dragged in a serrated breath, and then forced a step back. My body ached for his touch, bowing toward his. Yet the retreat was necessary for the continuation of this lesson.

The irony that he was the one with more self control today was not lost on me.

“Channel your desire into making a new form,” he murmured, settling on the hay again.

Haze lingering despite my best effort to clear it, I did as he requested and attempted to recreate Kiira’s outfit from the night of the ball. Instead of including a change in my body, I focused solely on her clothing. Shadows disappeared, revealing the full dress, though it still sparkled with gems.

“Hold on, I can do better,” I said, closing my eyes and diving into my magic again. The next attempt resulted in a marginal improvement, the fabric all silk. The one after left me with a cluster of gems around my neck. I shifted, rolling my shoulders at the unnerving feeling. A sense of nakedness clung to me despite being cloaked in leather and magic.

Rokath didn’t seem to notice my discomfort, his mind working. “So we know now that you can both change your physical appearance and clothing. What about another’s magic? You said before you couldn’t. But have you ever tried?”

“Yes, though it was a long time ago,” I admitted, surrendering my hold. My shoulders dropped away from my ears, and I shook out my arms.

“Tell me about it,” he instructed. With a sigh, I settled beside him on the hay.

“When my power manifested, my mother forbade me from using it in front of anyone, insisting I’d be snatched away from my family and used as some sort of political pawn.” I snorted a laugh because despite my mother’s best efforts, that was basically what had happened since leaving Stryi. “But I wanted to know exactly what I could do. Priestess Anara wasn’t exactly forthcoming with her magic lessons for females, so I did some experimenting on my own. Which when I hadn’t even come of age yet, obviously didn’t go well.”

Rokath rubbed his palms together as he listened, mulling over my words as I revealed more of myself to him.

“I attempted to mimic my father’s magic. There was an especially large rock that was proving difficult to plant around, and I thought with my burgundy eyes, if I could use his power, I could blast it apart and then it wouldn’t be in the way anymore.”

“What color were his eyes?” Rokath asked.

“Scarlet. Nothing too strong,” I told him.

“So you weren’t able to do anything to the rock?” he clarified.

I shook my head. “No, I barely succeeded in wobbling it with my primary magic too.”

Rokath glanced over my head at the stands where males lounged and watched the others fighting below them. “Each secondary power feels different from each other. For me, I have to Call the dead using that shockwave of shadow. I’m assuming for you, you have to use a lot more mental acuity.”

He rose slowly. “Wait here.”

Disappearing around the corner, he left me sitting on the bale of hay for several minutes. When he reappeared, he had two males in tow, with Rapp trailing behind them. “Tell her how you call on your secondary power,” he said to the two.

Rapp took a seat beside me. “I’m very intrigued by this possibility. Two Callers? Two Binders? Two Rifters? Doubling our most powerful would make a huge difference.”

Hope bloomed in my chest. Perhaps this was what I was meant to do all along. If I could manage to Call alongside Rokath, the whole army—Fates, all of Keleti—would tremble beneath my might.

A ruby-eyed male stepped forward, drawing me out of my excitement. He cleared his throat, glancing between Rokath and me. “I am a Corrupter. For me to utilize my power, I have to focus on how I want something to decay. For instance, this stone,” he pointed to the walls of the fortress, “is a more difficult target because it is difficult to embody the properties of a stone since it doesn’t live like we do, if that makes sense. Whereas with plants, it’s far easier. I’ll show you.”

From the stack sequestered off to the side, he grabbed another bale of hay. Hovering his hand above it, darkness dripped down. “Right now I am thinking about what the hay used to be like before it was cut, how even now it is still a strong shade of yellow. But I want it to blacken. So I switch my vision to that instead.”

Sure enough, the top bits started turning brown and curling in on themselves, eventually fading to a sickly hue. Then, he pulled his hand back.

Rokath motioned me forward, and I approached the three males. “First, try to pull his form to you. Then, see if you can imitate his magic.”

Nodding, I turned my attention to the ruby-eyed male. He had a medium build, with the typical cropped hair of the soldiers. My scrutiny went to the finer details of his face, and, to his credit, he assisted me. Tilting his head this way and that, he allowed me to take full stock of him. Then, he spun a slow circle. Satisfied that I had a clear enough image of him, I called on my magic. Onyx rose and fell in time with my breath, and then he stared at his reflection.

The clothing, at least, came out intact. I grinned at the male I was impersonating. His eyes widened, along with the others’, as they beheld my power up close.

I ignored their wonder and focused on my task. I had to master this, to show them how useful I could be.

Positioning my hand over the hay, I painted a picture of onyx dropping like rain onto it and blackening each straw. I willed the stalks to shrivel, to grow sickly instead of green.

Everyone’s gazes bored into me, pricking my skin with their attention. Their expectation. Sweat rolled down my temple as I focused, yet no matter how much of my power I poured into it, nothing happened.

Frustration rose, and I gritted my teeth, giving it one last shove.

Still, the yellow did not die. With an aggravated sigh, I released it all, returning to my body. “I don’t think it’s possible.” My throat thickened, and I studied my mother’s ring rather than meet my mate’s gaze.

“Let’s try a different power,” Rokath suggested. “That’s why I retrieved two different ones. We have to be sure.”

The second had kind garnet eyes and was soft spoken. He quickly explained his Chaos powers and how he bypassed the conscious mind of his opponents to cause confusion. Once again, I pulled a new form around me. At least that facet of my magic received a thorough exercise, even if I was failing at others.

Others that were the difference between life and death.

Swallowing, I focused on what the male had said about his power. Our eyes locked, I attempted to force his capabilities back onto him.

After several minutes of yanking on the threads of darkness, he shook his head. “There is nothing.”

I dropped my hold immediately, spine now slick with sweat. My magic was nothing more than smoky wisps, nearly extended to its maximum. My well hadn’t been this empty since the early days of the conscription.

Yet disappointment washed over me at my abject failure. What if I couldn’t mimic their magic? Or anyone else’s?

Rokath grunted and then dismissed the two.

Tears burned my eyes and I swiped the backs of my wrists at them before anyone could see. My mate rested a hand on my shoulder, circling me around to face him.

“At least we tried and now we know,” he told me, his tone even and almost reassuring.

“Are you sure?” I asked, my voice fractured. “Maybe it’s only certain types of magic I can imitate. We can keep trying until we find it.”

Rokath shook his head and steered me to sit beside Rapp on the bale of hay. “Every power has limits. This is yours. And no one will respect you less because you can’t imitate their magic.”

His words were a balm to my anxiety. The love sweeping down our bond soothed the ache further.

Rapp elbowed me in the side, drawing my attention. “We win some battles, we lose others. What’s most important is that in the end, we win the war. Your magic is powerful enough to help with that, and we’ll figure out how to use it best.”

“Thanks,” I sighed, wiping sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand.

Rokath crossed his arms across his broad chest and settled into a deeper stance. “We’ll keep training, every day, to ensure you can fight, both with your magic and weapons. I have other ideas to try that might assist you. But with the gong about to sound, we don’t have time for that today.”

“How do you know–” I started, but my words were smashed by the ringing he foretold.

Rapp laughed, clutching his side to support his ribs. “Just like old times.”

Rokath rolled his eyes and hoisted his friend to his feet. “After decades, you get used to it,” he told me. Then, together, the three of us streamed behind the other males leaving the training arena for the cool walls of the military academy’s fortress.