Reckoning, p.23
Reckoning, page 23
Four boys had crammed into the shrouded nook. They all wore the black and azure uniforms of Central Academy, but the disparity between them was clear.
Two of them had Seth, the scrawny kid who had helped me pick out my books, pinned up against the wall. One was very tall and on the thinner side, giving him a stretched appearance. Braided locks of red, black, and blonde hair hung from his head. The other was shorter, but with broad, bearish shoulders and a mop of wild red hair.
The last young man, whose skin was dark ebony and his hair a darker black, stood back a few feet, his arms crossed. He was more classically highborn in appearance than the others, and he wore his nobility openly, in the set of his shoulders, his stance, and the careful passivity of his face, his nose upturned slightly, lips parted in a practiced smile.
“A homeless orphan like you has no place here,” grunted the heavy-set boy.
“Go home,” wheezed the other, wrapping his hand around the back of Seth’s neck.
“Oh wait.” The broad boy twisted Seth’s arm, causing him to let out a pitiful moan.
“You don’t have a home, do you?” asked the thin student as he shoved Seth’s head back into the wall.
Stepping into the aisle, I wordlessly passed the dark-haired student and approached the other three.
“Excuse me?” he asked incredulously as I stepped between him and his friends.
The thinner student looked me up and down, his hand still pinning Seth’s head to the wall. “Need something?”
Stepping up next to him, I raised a hand. He flinched back, then scowled as I reached past him to pluck a book off the nearest shelf. As I flipped it open to read the title, I made sure my spiraling ring was plainly visible.
Letting go of Seth’s arm, the large boy stuck out his chest and took a step toward me.
I looked up from the book. And waited.
His attempt at a threatening glower twitched. His friend glanced past me to the third boy, grimacing. I let my brows crease into the smallest frown.
The large boy deflated, stepping back again.
“You must be the new combat professor,” the black-haired boy said from behind me. “For the no-magic class.” When I glanced at him over my shoulder, he nodded slightly in a bow that would have been considered disrespectful in any formal setting. “Professor Grey?” His thin lips turned up in an amused smile. “Show the professor some respect, gentlemen. We’ll be seeing him often, after all.”
“My bad,” the large student grunted.
His companion flashed me a jovial smile as he straightened Seth’s uniform for him, causing Seth to flinch back. “Sorry, professor.”
Both boys skirted around me as best they could as they followed their ringleader out of the alcove.
“Thanks,” Seth said as he unfolded out of his defensive posture.
I scanned the bookshelf absentmindedly, not actually taking notice of any of the book titles. “Liking to read is fine, but you should probably learn how to defend yourself if you plan on staying at this academy.”
He was silent as I walked away, letting my words hang in the air.
With a couple new books in hand, I left the library several minutes later and headed for the Reliquary.
I was surprised to find a couple dozen students gathered around the Chapel—the building Tristan had gloated about earlier—watching a procession of mages march out of the portal. Two by two, the armed and armored mages formed a barrier leading from the portal arch to the dark stone steps of the Chapel.
When an unfamiliar horned figure stepped out of the portal, my blood turned to ice in my veins.
The Vritra-blooded man was colossal. He stood well over seven feet tall and had the physique of a titan. His horns jutted from the sides of his shaved head and curved to point forward like a bull’s.
‘Dragoth,’ Regis whispered in my mind. ‘A Scythe.’
Throughout the entire war, I had thought that word with fear and anticipation. The entire Dicathian army trembled at the mention of the title, terrified of the day one would appear on the battlefield and show us what they could really do as elite Alacryan generals.
This fear had only been amplified when the Scythes had finally made an appearance. I had watched Seris Vritra tear the mana-infused horn from Uto’s head as effortlessly as a child pulling the wings off a butterfly. I had witnessed the aftermath of Cadell’s destruction at the castle, where he overpowered a Lance and the commander of Dicathen’s armies without breaking a sweat.
Even at the peak of my strength, I had nearly killed myself to fight to a stalemate against Nico and Cadell—and I would have, had it not been for Sylvie.
These thoughts passed through my mind between one heartbeat and the next, and I realized something.
It wasn’t fear that I was feeling.
It was anger.
As one, the body of students took a knee, and suddenly I was exposed to the Scythe.
Dragoth’s wide head swiveled around until his blood-red eyes locked on mine. He frowned, halting for a moment, and I felt as if he was looking through my eyes and into my mind, seeing my hostility as plainly as if I’d pointed a sword at his heart.
‘Art! Your intent, he can feel it!’ Regis sounded panicked but distant, and I realized with a start that I had inadvertently suffused my entire body with aether.
Blinking, I withdrew my intent—which had only just leaked out and was still shrouded under the Scythe’s own oppressive aura—and the crowd of students stood, once again obscuring me in the throng.
“Scythe Dragoth Vritra!” a deep voice announced from the doors of the gloomy Chapel. “It is with great honor that we receive you!”
The speaker looked just like his portrait: short grey hair that contrasted sharply against his ebony skin, and a permanently stern expression on his face that didn’t break apart even in the face of a Scythe.
Relief mingled with regret as Dragoth turned away from me to face the director. “Augustine,” he answered in a warm baritone. He ran a hand through his thick beard. “I’ve brought the relic as agreed. In person, as Cadell required.”
Clenching my fists, I forced the anger down and took an iron grip on my intent. As I looked at the Scythe’s black horns, though, the image of Cadell’s demonic form standing over the dying Sylvia flashed in my mind. Then Alea, her eyes gone, her limbs nothing but blood stumps. Then Buhnd, on his back in the rubble, burning from the inside out.
Dragoth had said something to the crowd, but I missed it. The Scythe and the director were walking toward the entrance to the Chapel as his guards formed a line across the base of the stairs.
Chatter broke out amongst the crowd all around me, but I could only stare at the Scythe. He was right there. I could kill him now. I could deprive Agrona of one of his most powerful soldiers. I could—
‘—listening to me?’ Regis’s voice was suddenly shouting in my head. ‘We can’t just—’
I know, I thought, pushing back my emotions and turning away. Now isn’t the time.
345
SOCIALITE
Setting down the scroll detailing the lessons I was expected to teach, I sighed and leaned back in my chair. I was forcefully reminded of the military academy I had attended in my previous life, and not in a good way.
The warrior in me—the man who had been a master swordsman, a king, a Lance—looked at these drills, which focused on mastering repeated movements and perfecting the minutiae of stance and the placement of hands and feet, and saw the kind of iron-fisted control over training that defeated creativity in battle. This part of me knew I could do better than grinding students on form.
But then there was another part, too: the brother, friend, and son. I was a Dicathian, displaced and surrounded by enemies, being asked to train soldiers that may one day use these abilities against the people I loved most, just to keep myself safe. Although it had only been two days, it had grown increasingly difficult to focus as that part of me kept asking the same question.
What is the point? I asked myself for the tenth time since the Scythe, Dragoth, had appeared at Central Academy. That anger had clung to me since then, coloring every interaction, poisoning every thought.
I wanted to be doing something more than just going over papers behind a desk.
All of Alaric and Darrin’s arguments felt so far away now that I was here, sitting in an office in Central Academy, preparing to teach. Had there really not been a better way for me to escape from the political knot I’d been tied up in, trapped between the hostility of the Granbehls and the manipulation of the Denoirs?
Is all of this even worth it?
“Is all of what worth it?” Regis cut in from where he lay in the corner. “The political protection, the free, no-questions-asked access in and out of the Relictombs? Or maybe the trove of dead relics and textbooks we have access to?”
I closed my eyes. “You know what I mean.”
“Just admit that you’re scared you’re going to see these Alacryans as real people instead of devils incarnate,” he said with a smirk. “I imagine humanizing your enemies can’t be easy on your already-messed-up moral compass.”
Prying an eye open, I threw a scroll at the big roll of fur and fire. Just as it should have bounced off him, his body flared with purple flames, engulfing the projectile.
Regis’s smirk merely widened as his tail wagged annoyingly. “I hope that wasn’t anything you needed.”
I opened my mouth to retort, but a soft knock at the door interrupted me.
‘Do you want me to go back in?’ Regis asked.
I shook my head. At this point, it should be fine.
“What is it?” I said aloud, the words coming out more bluntly than I intended.
The office door swung inward and a woman stepped in, her floating waves of blonde hair trailing after her slightly as if she were surrounded by a gentle breeze. “Grey! I hope you don’t mind my stopping by.”
I acknowledged her with a terse nod. “I’m sorry, I’m a little busy—”
“Oh, do you need help preparing for class? I’m sure you have so much on your plate.” She bounced across the room and leaned one hip against my desk to look down at the materials spread out in front of me. “This is the third season I’ve taught both my classes, so I’m all set, myself. I’d be happy to spend some time with you—helping you, I mean.”
Frowning, I considered how best to get rid of the woman without burning a bridge, but Regis shuffled, his flames flaring, and Abby squealed and retreated back across the small office.
“Wh-what is that?” she exclaimed, her amber eyes wide with fright.
“My summons,” I answered nonchalantly.
“Wow, a summons?” Abby asked breathlessly, her cheeks flushed from fright. “I’ve never seen one quite like this before.” Taking a few tentative steps away from Regis, who was having a difficult time maintaining a serious face, she hiked herself up onto my desk, one leg crossed over the other. “That’s really impressive. Do you mind if I ask, though”—her lips quirked up into a teasing smile—“having your summons out, do you feel in danger or something?”
Regis waggled his brows as he watched Abby lean in closer toward me, obviously enjoying my discomfort. I was tempted to call him back with the verbal cue that Regis and I had agreed on beforehand for cases like this, but my companion shook his head now that Abby wasn’t looking at him.
‘I like the view from here, if you don’t mind,’ he said with a satisfied smile. ‘And watching you squirm makes it even better.’
I shook my head, locking my gaze with Abby’s and returning a soft smile. “Perhaps I just wanted to impress a fellow colleague.”
“O-oh,” The blonde-haired professor’s eyes widened, taken aback. Regis’s eyes did the same.
After a brief pause, I gave her a wink. “I only jest, Miss Redcliff. Though, I’m sure you’re well accustomed to shrugging off leering suitors.”
“You’re too much,” she said with a giggle, her ears burning bright as she looked away. “And please, call me Abby.”
“Very well.” I stood up and walked around my desk, leaning against it next to her.
I held out my hand and waited for her to take it. Her fingers barely touched my own as she returned my gesture. “It’s a pleasure to see you again, Abby.”
“The pleasure is mine,” she replied with a light squeeze of my hand.
Pulling away, I took a peek at my companion, whose jaw was slack, before turning my attention back to my guest. “I hope I’m not sitting too close. Talking to you from behind my desk makes it feel like I’m talking to my students.”
“No, I prefer this as well, I mean—I’m not a student, after all,” she said, shaking her head.
“Good, I’m glad,” I chuckled happily before letting my grin fall. “Though we may have to keep our conversation short today.”
Abby kept her expression impartial, but her shoulders slumped at my words. “Oh? I take it you’ve made plans for the rest of your day?”
“I plan to enjoy a lovely date with these piles of papers over here,” I said with a tired smile.
“Like I said before, I’d be happy to help you prepare for your class, Grey,” she said.
“It’s not really about my class, per se.” I scratched my cheek while looking away, feigning shame. “Nevermind, it’s a bit embarrassing for me to say aloud.”
“What is it?” Abby’s amber eyes twinkled in curiosity as she leaned closer to me. “I promise I won’t tell.”
I let out a sigh. “Well, I’m from a rather detached area of Sehz-Clar so I’m terribly uninformed about much of what everyone here would consider common knowledge.”
Abby’s face brightened in realization. “Oh! You couldn’t have told anyone better!”
I raised a brow, shooting her a timid upward glance. “What do you mean?”
My colleague gave me a mischievous grin. “You see, I’ve known most of the other professors here long before I took a teaching post myself, and a lot of us like to talk.”
I leaned closer to Abby, just enough to let our shoulders touch. “Really now?”
She glanced at our shoulders before looking back up. “And a common gossip topic we all share is about the students here, especially which highbloods we have to watch out for.”
“I’m jealous.” I let out a meek chuckle. “I really want to make a home out of this place and fit in, but asking for you to share so much with me would only be a burden on you.”
“It wouldn’t be a burden at all!” She lit up like Xyrus during the Aurora Constellate. “Oh, where do I even begin?”
I let my hand rest gently on her arm for a moment as I gave Abby a wistful smile. “You’re a lifesaver, Abby. That was really helpful.”
Beaming, she slid from my desk and bent into a curtsy, holding her white battle robes out like the hem of a dress. “At your service, Professor Grey. Please”—those honey-tinted eyes held mine with fierce attentiveness—“don’t hesitate to call on me again, okay? Maybe for drinks next time?”
I walked after her, leading her toward my door with a light touch at the small of her back and a smile to accompany it. “Let me walk you out.”
“Quite the gentleman for someone so socially disinclined, or so you put it,” the Caster said with a shy smile before stepping out of my office.
As soon as I closed the door behind Abby and her hair, which billowed in a wind she was obviously conjuring around herself, my shoulders slumped and a breath escaped my lungs. The lingering anger had finally burned itself out, but I was left feeling cold and detached.
Turning around, I was faced with a dumbstruck Regis, his uncomprehending eyes staring at me.
“What?” I snapped.
“Who are you and what have you done with my antisocial, charming-as-a-grumpy-log owner?” he asked with a mixture of suspicion and admiration leaking into my head.
“Just because I choose to be reserved, doesn’t mean I can’t be charming when need be,” I argued, sinking back into my chair.
Regis followed me to my seat and put his muzzle on my desk. “Aren’t you worried that Miss Loose Lip over there will tell other professors all about her conversation with you?”
“I’m counting on it,” I answered wearily, leaning my head back. “My fake background will be a lot more believable if it comes from someone else’s mouth.”
“Should I be scared of your uncanny proficiency in the art of seduction?”
“You make it seem like I just sold myself to her or something,” I scoffed.
“And the way you avoided her last question by putting your hand on her back…did you learn that from a textbook or something? Because I’d like to read that as well,” he said, shaking his head.
I ignored my companion as I kicked one foot up on the desk, resting the heel of my boot in the middle of the stack of parchment.
“Shouldn’t you be working on all that, anyway?” Regis pointed out.
“Yes, assuming I had any interest in actually teaching these kids.” Standing up again, I left the office. “Come on, let’s make some use out of this training facility before school starts.”
Regis tottered after me. “Ooh, a battle for the gravity-defying hottie?”
“Get your head out of the gutter. She’s not an object,” I shot back. “And besides, I thought you had a thing for Caera.”
“Why do I need to only like one?” Regis asked seriously.
I rolled my eyes as I made my way to the control panel. “Just go stretch or something so you don’t blame losing to a pulled ethereal groin.”
After fiddling with a few switches, the shielding barrier sprang to life with a low hum. Next, I turned the gravity within the ring up as high as the system would go, biting back a smirk.
“I’ll show you an ethereal groin,” Regis quipped, leaping up onto the platform and immediately stumbling under the weight of his own body. “Hey, wait a damned second!”
I chortled as I hopped up next to him. The force of the increased gravity was oppressive—maybe seven times normal—but nothing I couldn’t handle with aether infusing my muscles and bones.
