Page 22 of Daughter Of The Ninth Line: The Complete Book One (Lines Of Ebrus #1)

chapter twenty-two

Vox

The conscript from the Ninth Line stuck out like a fly in the soup.

It was more than the near-ethereal paleness of her skin, indicative of her Line, or the fact she scowled at everyone who moved.

I couldn’t put my finger on what it was yet, but the fact that one of Taeme’s damn hounds had cornered her last night had to mean something.

I trusted my instincts, and whatever was bugging me about the girl from the Ninth needed investigating.

I turned to Shay, my cousin, who was also my second. “What do we know about the Ninth Line conscript?”

We were walking into the training ring, even though I had more swordwork experience than most of the instructors here. Back home, I’d been given a sword as soon as I could be trusted not to poke myself in the eye with it, and sent to train for at least an hour a day.

Shay shrugged, loosening up her muscles so she could do her formwork. “No more than you; only what’s in the ledgers. Avalon Halhed, fifth child, and youngest daughter of the Baron of the Ninth Line.”

I rifled through my memory, trying to pinpoint what I knew of the Baron of the Ninth Line, and mentally thanked my tutors for drilling this bullshit into my brain along with my ABCs.

Roman Halhed was in his mid-sixties, a craggy-looking figure who spent far too often in the drink—to the detriment of his Line’s coffers, if my father’s sources were to be believed.

It had made the whole Line weak, though there wasn’t a lot they could have offered the rest of Ebrus anyway.

They had weak foresight magic, barely more than a gut feeling.

They had no good farmland to barter with—nothing but inhospitable mountains and livestock as tough as the people who tended them.

“Find out more,” I instructed Shay.

She raised an eyebrow at me, but didn’t negate the order. She just disappeared, and I knew she’d know everything there was to know about the Halhed girl and her whole Goddess-forsaken Line before the end of the day.

“Lift your fucking sword higher, Ninth, or your enemy will chop off your fucking head!” Instructor Yarlow yelled at her.

He was right; her form was sloppy. She wouldn’t last a day walking through Fortaare like that, let alone on the front lines of a war.

I could see her arm shaking and knew she’d hit muscle fatigue.

But the punishment for dropping your sword was missing three full meals in the food hall, and that was a powerful motivator.

She was gaunt, but not as bad as the Twelfth Line conscripts, who looked like too-tight flesh walking around on a skeleton when they arrived, especially if they were from villages on the outer rims of Ebrus.

No, she looked like she’d missed more than a few meals, but wasn’t starved.

Nothing that wouldn’t be solved by the regular meals offered at Boellium.

But her muscles were obviously weak, and for reasons I didn’t understand, I slipped a small cushion of air beneath the point of her sword. Barely more than a whisper, and only those highly skilled in elemental magic would even know it was there.

When Instructor Yarlow blew the whistle to signify the end of the session, I allowed the air to dissipate and watched her sword tip lurch to the sand. She glared at her hand, and I realized she’d locked her muscles around the hilt.

Unable to help myself, I walked over to her. “Do you need assistance?”

Her eyes flew to mine, wide and worried. I watched as she swallowed hard, shaking her head. She met my gaze with her own darker blue ones. “I’m fine, thank you.”

I couldn’t remember the last time anyone who wasn’t in my inner circle had met my eyes. Usually, it was beaten out of them by etiquette instructors and courtly manners. Guess they didn’t have either of those things up in the wilds. Or maybe…

“Do you know who I am?” I asked her, my voice in its usual bored superiority.

She nodded, something like defiance edging back into her expression.

“Then why do you meet my eyes so freely?” I took the bite out of the words, softening my tone from the harsh one I’d usually employ to ensure people knew their place.

She dropped her eyes to her feet. “Would you believe insanity runs in my family?” she said softly, and I laughed. It was almost involuntary, and several eyes turned toward me. I pushed the sound away, folding my face back into its proper mask.

Reaching out, I tilted her chin up so her eyes were back on me. “Yes, I would.”

I could feel the intensity of someone’s stare on my face, and I turned, knowing who it would be before my eyes even met his forest-green ones. Hayle Taeme was glaring at me and the way my hands rested on this girl from the Ninth.

“What’s your name?” I asked her softly. I already knew it, but wanted to hear it from her own lips.

“Avalon Halhed.”

“And how do you know Hayle Taeme?” Was she a little spy? It was a good ruse; I’d never expect her.

But the incredulity on her face scrapped that idea almost immediately. “I don’t know anyone from the Third Line, let alone an Heir.”

I believed her. “Then why is he staring at me touching you, like he wants to rip each of my fingers off and shove them up my a—nose?” I corrected myself.

She shrugged, switching her sword to the other hand. “I don’t know. I think perhaps I might have accidentally stolen one of his animal familiars.”

I raised an eyebrow, because I doubted that. If Hayle’s hounds were anything to go by, they would rather tear you to pieces than be kept from their master. In fact, they’d shredded a conscript yesterday. The Third Line were wild and uncouth, but their pets were loyal.

Whatever it was, Taeme’s interest in her just made her even more of an enigma. A mystery I was going to solve. I leaned forward, and she stared up at me.

Where was her self-preservation? Maybe she was like all the rest, just here to make a good impression on one of the Upper Lines and marry out of the hellhole she called her Line’s territory.

Disappointment flowed through me. That was all this was. A tale I was all too familiar with.

But that didn’t mean I couldn’t play with her a little. Leaning even further forward, I watched her stop breathing. Our lips were close, and I was almost excited to kiss her. How long had it been since I’d been excited about anything, let alone some little Line jumper?

A low growl beside me had me stiffening. I looked down at the hound baring its teeth at me, or perhaps at Avalon Halhed. “Fuck off, Taeme, or I’ll make a rug out of your pet,” I growled back. I knew he could see through the eyes of that fucking mutt, and he’d get the message loud and clear.

It was pure politics that I didn’t strangle the thing with my air right now. Perhaps one day I would, just to prove a point. My father would have, without hesitation.

“Maybe it can smell its little stolt friend on me,” Avalon murmured, seemingly frozen in fear.

She looked down at the hound, and her body slowly relaxed.

“I swear, I keep setting him free, but he keeps coming back. Have you ever tried to keep a stolt out of a room? It turns into a freaking liquid and just slides back under the door. Tell your master I didn’t mean it.

” As if she’d come to her senses and realized how close we were, she stepped back, hefting her sword to her chest like it was a shield.

“I should…” She turned and ran, and I watched her go.

What the fuck was it about that girl? I wasn’t like the men in my family. I didn’t fuck everything that moved, just because I could. Not that I was a monk, obviously, but this was odd even for me.

I needed a shower; sweat was making my skin itch.

I strode toward the atrium, people immediately moving out of my way, as if I was a single moment from losing it and exsanguinating them all.

Yesterday’s little exhibition probably hadn’t helped that notion, but the kid from the Eighth Line had been seen stealing from my dorm.

If you were stupid enough to steal from the First Line, you could suffer the consequences.

He was lucky I hadn’t taken his hands with my sword.

When I was finally back in my dorm, I moved through the space that housed the rest of the First Line conscripts, and over to a set of private stairs. Climbing them slowly, I emerged into what was known as the Dome.

My suite was made of the same glass that enclosed the atrium, glass that had been made impenetrable by magic that was long lost to us.

It also protected from the harsh sun of the Ebrus summers, and blocked out the chill of the sea breeze in the winter.

I wished I knew what magic had created this place, so I could learn to replicate it.

From the Dome, I could see 360 degrees around the college.

I could see Hayle watching the girl, who was now standing by a tree with her face tilted to the sun.

I could see the Upper Lines surrounding a person, and judging by the slight build, it was probably someone from the Eleventh or Twelfth Lines.

I could see Headmaster Proxius talking to Svenna, who’d once been a feared warrior, but had been demoted to administrator of Boellium after the battle that took her arm.

Whatever they were talking about, Svenna was gesturing angrily with her remaining limb.

I wondered if I could get some ears down there to listen in on that conversation.

My eyes drifted back to Avalon Halhed. She looked almost ethereal, with her pale skin glowing in the hot Southern sun. She would burn if she wasn’t careful. Once again, I tried to figure out why I even cared.

Sighing, I stepped into my private bathroom and turned on the large shower.

Using my elemental abilities, I swirled the water around me until it cleaned and caressed every inch of my dirty skin.

I could control all four elements, unlike most of the people in the First Line outside my immediate family.

Most were Goddess-blessed with one or two elemental affinities, but the men in my family controlled all four, and my mother controlled three, which was why she’d been chosen to wed my father.

I’d also have to wed someone with at least two elemental powers, preferably three.

My eyes stayed fixed to the conscript from the Ninth Line. Girls from the Lower Six weren’t even well-bred enough to fuck. Yet, even knowing that, I had still wanted to kiss Avalon Halhed.