Page 18 of A Court of Thralls and Thorns

Cordelle shrugged. “That’s what my father said.”

I glanced down at my wrist, where a thin leather bracelet sat—a gift from Solei. It had been with me for years, a quiet reminder of the sister who had been more of a parent than Cyran.

“Can you attach it?” I asked, holding out my arm.

Cordelle nodded, his expression warm as he took the bracelet and carefully fastened the charm to it. “Now we’ll always be friends,” he said with a small grin.

I smiled back at him. “Yes, we will.”

The door to our barracks swung open with sharp authority, and Zander Rayne stepped inside, followed closely by a castle guard pushing a small cart laden with dark leather gear. The scent of freshly tanned hide filled the space as the wheels of the cart rattled across the hard floor.

Zander’s sharp gaze swept over us, impassive as ever. “Here is your gear. Put it on and meet me in the ring in ten minutes,” he ordered.

He turned to leave but hesitated just for a second—his eyes flicking toward me. I was still half-buried under my covers, with Cordelle sitting cross-legged at the edge of my bed.

His expression was unreadable, but I knew judgment when I saw it.

Then, just as quickly, he was gone, the wooden door swinging shut behind him.

Jax let out a low whistle and immediately stripped down to his underwear, completely unfazed as he began putting on the new gear. Across the room, Naia followed suit, equally unbothered.

I sighed, realizing I was going to have to get used to everyone being half-naked, considering we had one washroom and limited time. With a groan, I rolled out of bed, stretching stiff muscles before grabbing my new gear from the cart.

Cordelle did the same, though he waited patiently for Eilvin to exit the washroom before ducking inside to change.

The gear fit surprisingly well, sturdy black leather reinforced with dark stitching along the seams, not nearly as intricate as the nobles’ but far superior to the worn clothes we’d been wearing. The pendant at my throat felt heavier now, a reminder that while I was wearing the uniform, my place among the riders was still uncertain.

By the time Cordelle exited the washroom, fully dressed and grinning, Tae motioned for us to follow.

The ring was exactly as it sounded—a fighting pit, designed for sparring, training, and breaking recruits into whatever form the army required of them. There was one for each squad, but ours had been recently painted.

Zander stood in the middle of it, arms crossed over his chest, waiting.

“Let’s see what we’re working with,” he announced, his cool gaze sweeping over us. “Who would like to go first?”

Naia smirked at me from across the ring, a glint of challenge in her eyes. “How about you and I have a go?”

I unzipped my jacket and passed it to Riven. “Why not?”

We stepped into the center, circling each other, testing the space.

Naia struck first. A quick, precise, low kick aimed at my legs. I dodged, the impact grazing my shin instead of taking my knee out from under me. I retaliated immediately, lunging forward and aiming a sharp jab at her ribs.

She blocked effortlessly and countered with a brutal hook, her fist colliding with my shoulder and sending a jolt of pain through my arm.

Naia wasn’t trying to kill me, but she was also not adverse to hurting me.

I gritted my teeth and pivoted, ducking low and sweeping my leg out, forcing her to step back or risk being taken down.

She recovered quickly, her movements fast and efficient, her experience obvious.

This wasn’t just a test.

She was gauging me.

I blocked the next few blows, dodging and weaving, but when she faked left and struck right, her knuckles cracked against my jaw.

I saw stars.