Page 9 of Blood Day (Blood Alliance #7)

Lily

Master Cedric was already in the room when I arrived, his long legs casually crossed at the ankles as he leaned back against his desk.

It was the same position he’d taken last night while he’d fed me, only he was facing the classroom today instead of his chair.

His strong hands were gripping the wood beneath him, his gaze cold as he surveyed the students entering the room.

When his eyes found mine, I shivered, the intensity radiating off of him making my knees go weak. I immediately lowered my focus to the floor, taking on a demure pose of required respect.

I shouldn’t have even made eye contact with him to begin with.

Alas, I seemed to be forgetting a lot of the rules where he was concerned.

Swallowing, I set my bag off to the side, kicked off my shoes and socks, and found my usual mat. Except a snap of Master Cedric’s fingers pulled my attention to him once more. “Prospect Four Hundred and Seven, I want you to work with Prospect Six Hundred and Forty-Two today.”

What? I glanced at the human in question, noting his hulking size.

“ Now , Prospect,” Master Cedric added when I didn’t immediately move.

I jumped to obey, but my heart stuttered in my throat. Because this guy had at least a foot on my five-foot-four frame, and his arms were the size of my thighs.

To be fair, most of the men in this class were like that.

There were ones larger than Prospect Six Hundred and Forty-Two, too.

But I usually sparred with the only other girl in the class—whom Master Cedric was now pairing up with this prospect’s usual fighting partner.

I shared a glance with the female, her expression showcasing how I felt about this development. It was a quick look, but we were both taken aback by this new pairing.

Of course, she always passed our assignments, while I always failed.

So she likely blamed me for this.

Which was probably accurate.

Only, I thought maybe things would be a bit different after last night. Master Cedric had been almost kind to me.

I’d thought I was in trouble after not immediately complying with his demand; he’d left me naked on that chair for what had felt like a half hour. I’d wondered if he would actually come back.

Then he’d returned with food.

And fed me.

Why had he done that?

“We are going to start with technique execution,” he announced as the final two students entered the room. “ You’ll perform the routine from the last class. Then you’re going to use at least four moves from that sequence against your sparring partner.”

Well, that didn’t sound too bad.

“While your partner actively defends against your attack,” he added, his words sending a chill through my being. “There will be no rules or limits today. Defend yourselves as you see fit, and you are welcome to execute more than four moves on the offensive as well. Four is the minimum.”

He clapped, and the sound resembled thunder to my ears.

No rules or limits.

Sparring moves with open defense.

Against a male twice my size.

I looked at my new partner and noted the stoicism in his features. He wasn’t fazed by this at all. Actually, he appeared a bit bored.

Which, yeah. He’d just been assigned a mouse to beat up. If I were him, I’d be bored, too.

“Prospect Four Hundred and Seven, I want you to go first,” Master Cedric announced before addressing the rest of the class. “You all have five minutes to warm up, starting now.”

So he wasn’t giving me time to mentally prepare for this change either. Or maybe he didn’t want me to psych myself out.

Either way, I took his command and ran with it—literally—by doing three laps around the room before falling into my usual stretching routine.

My mind calmed with each movement, my body leading the way without much thought.

All the other students followed suit, everyone preparing themselves for today’s class .

After stretching, I went through two practice rounds of the fighting sequence before taking my position on the mat, ready to perform.

Master Cedric remained by his desk, still leaning with his ankles crossed, his hands tucked into his pockets. “Time’s up,” he said, his cold gaze landing on me. “Begin.”

I didn’t hesitate, falling into the first move and executing the routine just like yesterday. Only this time, I wore a pair of black stretchy pants and a white T-shirt.

And I executed each move flawlessly.

Not that Master Cedric agreed or even commented. Instead, he gestured at Prospect Six Hundred and Forty-Two to demonstrate the same movements.

I studied his kicks and punches, wincing when I realized how much power he packed behind each movement.

He’s going to break me in half , I realized as he finished the performance with a deadly chop through the air.

Master Cedric nodded, dismissing us to the side. Then he called upon my usual partner and her new sparring mate. They went through the movements, the male just as intimidating as the one standing beside me.

I swallowed, my heart racing harder and harder as each pair went through their routines until the class came full circle and returned to me.

“Prospect Four Hundred and Seven will be on the offensive first,” Master Cedric declared. “Only defensive moves, Prospect Six Hundred and Forty-Two.”

The beastly male dipped his chin in acknowledgment.

This is going to end badly.

It was sort of reminiscent of my last class, where one opponent had to fail. Only, Master Cedric wouldn’t torture the loser the way Master Peyton had .

He’d just let the loser break and leave him or her to heal alone.

“Begin.” Impatience darkened Master Cedric’s tone.

He must have sensed my hesitation because he bit off the word the moment my feet touched the mat. I wasn’t even in a fighting stance yet, but my sparring partner appeared prepared as he put his fists up to block me.

I started with a kick meant to sweep his legs out from beneath him and came up against a wall of muscle instead. He didn’t try to deflect me. His hard legs bruised mine and sent me backward reflexively without him having to budge an inch.

Goddess, this is bad , I thought, executing a throw meant to hit a pressure point.

That one he caught, his meaty hand snatching my wrist and twisting hard until it popped.

I bit my lip to hold back my yelp.

But I couldn’t hide my flinch.

Or the shudder of pain that shot up my arm.

I still had two more moves to execute, and I was pretty sure he’d sprained my wrist.

Sweat beaded down my spine. Giving up wasn’t an option. I couldn’t fail again.

So I feigned a movement toward his groin with my knee, then threw my elbow upward at the last second in a move similar to what Master Cedric had shown us yesterday.

I caught the giant in the chin and followed it up with a final chop to his neck.

It barely fazed him, his brown eyes blinking at me with that perpetual boredom. Like I was merely a fly buzzing around his head.

“Switch,” Master Cedric said, his command lighting a fire in my partner’s gaze. He struck out with the force of a lightning bolt, going for my neck. I ducked on instinct, using my smaller frame to my advantage.

His elbow knocked the back of my head, shooting an agonizing spike down my neck. But I moved with it and out to the side, just to see his heel coming up toward my nose.

I leapt backward, barely missing his kick.

He followed me, his steps athletic and lithe. His face gave nothing away, his emotionless state making my blood thrum harshly through my veins.

I couldn’t remember how many moves he’d attempted already, just kept hearing Master Cedric’s earlier instructions.

“You are welcome to execute more than four moves on the offensive as well. Four is the minimum.”

He hadn’t let me try more than four.

He’d told us to switch.

How many would he allow my partner to do? Would Master Cedric stop this prospect at four or wait until the man destroyed me?

He’d asked me last night if I remembered what happened if I disobeyed him.

You’ll fail me .

I’d thought he’d intended to punish me then.

But he hadn’t.

Maybe this was the real punishment, my true failure, my death.

My breath caught in my throat as I dodged another hit, then I rolled to escape his foot again. But he was coming faster now, his movements harsh and strong and deadly.

Master Cedric said nothing.

The room was silent apart from my harsh inhales and exhales.

He wasn’t going to stop this .

And my partner seemed hell-bent on proving his mastery by using me as his punching bag.

I couldn’t run. I couldn’t hide. I had to fight.

But I was no match for his size and power. Even if I found a way to punch him, it wouldn’t do much. Without a weapon, I was fucked.

My wrist was on fire from whatever he’d done to it.

Tears threatened my vision, true fear strangling my throat.

Please call it, I thought, begging Master Cedric with my mind. Please don’t let me fail like this. Not after everything I’ve ? —

Prospect Six Hundred and Forty-Two caught my wounded wrist and tugged me within reach, then twisted it sharply to snap the bones in my arm.

It happened so suddenly that I barely processed it, could hardly feel the agony until his knee slammed into my stomach and his elbow hit my head.

The world spun, my back hitting the mat with a whoosh of sound that expelled all my air.

He started to fall down on top of me, his face swimming in my vision. But a harsh command from Master Cedric paused the movement.

Or maybe that was a dream.

I couldn’t really see. Couldn’t truly process. Everything was blurry. Dark, then bright.

Ohh, this hurts, I thought, doing my best not to make a sound. But a tiny moan escaped me. All my training to endure snapped into focus as I tried with all my might to rein in the agony, to persevere despite the weight holding me down.

Move , I commanded myself. Get. Up. And. Move.

My vision failed me as I tried to find my way off the mat. Half my body seemed incapable of moving. He broke my arm . That hit to my head had knocked me off-kilter. My stomach felt twisted inside out.

I stole a shallow breath and closed my eyes.

Three. Two. Now.

I gritted my teeth and rolled, then forced my knees to tuck underneath me and used my good hand to push myself up off the mat. I still couldn’t really see or hear, but I sensed everyone watching my struggle.

This was my battle to fight. My battle to win .

Just as Six had survived his punishment, I would persevere through mine.

There was no alternative.

I wanted to live.

And I proved it by finding my footing and hobbling to the wall beside the beastly male.

“Prospect One Hundred and Thirty-Nine, you’re up,” Master Cedric said in a bored tone, calling my former sparring partner to the mat.

I tried to watch her fight, but my vision continued to blink in and out of focus. I wasn’t sure how many movements she executed, but I heard the distinctive crunch of bone when the male went next.

Her agonized shriek pierced the air, telling me he’d done severe damage.

But then she went quiet.

I wasn’t sure if that was a result of her training or if she’d fallen unconscious.

Another smack followed.

Another crunch.

“Next,” Master Cedric said, his tone dismissive. “And please deposit Prospect One Hundred and Thirty-Nine in the hallway.”

“Yes, Master Cedric,” the male replied without emotion .

She’s dead, I realized, still unable to see. Or she’s about to die .

That’d be the only reason to take her into the hall.

My insides churned at the realization that he’d let this happen, that he’d let that human kill her.

But of course he had.

That was how this entire program worked. Only the strongest survived. And he’d just given me the ultimate lesson.

Providing proof of what he’d been trying to tell me through each failure.

You don’t have what it takes to pass this course.

He hadn’t actually said that. However, he didn’t need to.

Because I understood why he kept failing me now.

I wasn’t strong enough to handle this.

Which meant I could never be a Vigil.

So what would become of me now? Would I even survive long enough to attend my Blood Day?

Not with Master Cedric’s course haunting my life.

I should never have enrolled in combat training.

But there wasn’t anything I could do about it now.

Just endure it.

And try to find a way to survive.