Page 12 of Death’s Kiss (The Order of the Tide Raiders #1)

A fter all the events of yesterday, I’m up early today. I’ve decided to work off my increasing stress levels in the pool chambers.

Located in the maze of tunnels that make up the belly of the North Order, the pool chambers are one of my only places for solace. And if I’m there early enough, solitude. In level-one, we spent most of our time training down here, learning to swim and dive and control our breathing.

It’s also where Preceptor Darood holds water combat training when the harsh, wintry ocean tides become too much for even his thick skin to push through.

The familiar scents of saltwater and minerals never fail to ease the tightness in my shoulders.

Lap after lap, my agitation slowly begins to recede as my body rhythmically pulls its way through water.

I relish the feeling of my muscles tiring and the way it allows my brain to quiet.

I can sort through my array of thoughts better in motion and surrounded by water than anywhere else.

What’s more, I can allow myself not to think .

By the time I’ve completed my workout and slipped back to our cabin to change, I’m in a much more agreeable mood. Breakfast passes easily and I find I can once again taste the food.

I walk with my crew to today’s first lesson and my favorite course taught by our Grand Regent: Theory of War. My mood lifts while joining in on the conversation as I slowly begin feeling normal once more.

However, once we’re through the arched entrance and into the dim, windowless room, I stop in my tracks. Prisca nearly runs right into me from behind at my abrupt halt. I hear her grumble something unintelligible but the others remain silent as they too study the scene before us.

The reason for my pause.

There was no announcement. No one even mentioned the combining of our lessons with the other cardinals. I suppose I assumed they would be taught on their ships or something.

It seems slightly more obvious when I really think about it. Yet I’m still blind sighted, finding Captain Agni’s towering form holding court at the front right table belonging to me and my crew.

Shifting fractionally, I observe Kleio, Greer, and Herse exchanging equal looks of displeasure, mirroring my own. But it's Nephthys who finally utters what we’re all thinking.

“Those little southern pricks . ”

Captain Agni sits lazily in the chair that belongs to me and tests my restraint.

The same chair that I’ve sat in every day for the last seven years of this course.

I watch as he tips it backward while laughing at whatever the dark-haired boy on his right has just said.

Something about that careless, arrogant motion breaks me from my indifferent demeanor.

I might as well be back in level-four.

“You’re in my seat,” I hear myself state before striding over to the southern captain, cold irritation coating my every word. The eyes of Kleio and the others are on me. I can feel their presence like a silent force from behind.

Captain Agni looks upwards, a thick, dark brow lifting in surprise. “ Oh ?”

I give him a false smile, nodding in confirmation.

He proceeds to rake his amber gaze over me like he’s never seen me before in his life.

Like all of yesterday and last night was just some dream on my part.

One corner of his haughty mouth lifts and I wait for him to retort, already poised to hurl back my own retaliation.

But then he does something infinitely more infuriating.

Agni turns back around to the males seated around him as if I haven't spoken at all.

The insult of his blatant disregard sends a searing kind of cold into my veins. It’s a familiar feeling I have no problem leaning into. Before I know it, I’ve closed the gap between myself and him, and I’m leaning down to the male with maddeningly messy hair.

My demand is uttered in a soft, venomous voice, dangerously close to his ear. “Get out of my seat.” The air around us drops an easy twenty degrees and multiple curses are thrown about the room at the sudden crispness.

Captain Agni tilts his head back to glare at me without the typical mixture of fear and surprise I’m anticipating. On the contrary, he looks at me like I’m no more than the dirt beneath his nails. His mouth twisting into a sneer.

The south order captain snorts before standing from my chair.

His towering stature forces me to tilt my head back in order to meet his scorching stare.

He’s somehow even taller than it appeared last night.

His shoulders seem broader in the light of day.

And his muscles strain against the thin red shirt of his uniform when crossing his arms before the width of his ridiculously solid chest.

What are they feeding these southern boys? Even Kerau wasn’t quite as monumental nor so ridiculously brawn.

“You want me to give you back your seat?” Agni inquires, voice low, amber eyes flickering with unchecked malice.

My jaw ticks but I nod sharply, ignoring the growing snickers from his friends avidly watching our standoff.

Agni takes a page from my book and leans down to rest his lips beside my ear. His voice is a mockery of my own bitter tone when whispering in reply. “Make me, squid .”

The southern captain may have whispered the words, but those assembled have grown so silent that the comment ripples outward for everyone to hear. The six of my crew members behind me freeze, struck dumb with the shock of hearing those words spoken aloud.

To a captain.

To their captain.

I stiffen and blanch while the jackass drops down into the seat that belongs to me. Agni leans back again in the chair, throwing a lazy smirk my way.

There’s a roar in my ears that I haven’t heard for some time now. A rush of emotions unlike any I’ve allowed myself to feel in years comes crashing through me. Invading my senses. I wouldn’t be surprised to find I’m vibrating with the freezing rage now licking up my insides.

I can’t recall exactly when the last time was that I heard that slur directed towards me. The ugly term for unwanted children. Castaways. Those deemed no more useful than fish food.

Squids .

It’s almost embarrassing how utterly incensed I am after only a few words from this southern boy. But the way his expression flashes with anticipation while watching my face tells me he’d love nothing more than to watch me come undone before him.

Kleio is the first to break out of mine and my crew’s momentary stupor. I hear the unmistakable sound of her abalone hilted blade as she pulls it from her side. “You little son of a —”

I turn, stopping Kleio with the light press of my palm against her rising shoulder. Agni watches the death threat of my second with barely a hint of interest in his eyes. The two males seated opposite him, however, have both placed their hands on the hilts of their own carrying weapons.

“We'll deal with this in the trials,” I grit out.

The words are aimed at my crew, but my attention doesn’t waver from Agni. His smirk deepens in turn, and I fight to keep my temper tethered.

Turning away from the cruel delight playing along the razor-sharp edges of his aristocratic features, I aim for the empty table closest to the entrance.

Kleio slides into the seat beside me and Herse drops into the one opposite.

The remaining four take their usual spots.

But Davina is, of course, with the leeches.

The seven of us are silent while eying the males who've stolen our table, now loud with laughter and chatter in that odd southern tongue. But then a prickling on my neck has my gaze shifting to the table just behind Agni’s, I hadn’t even noticed it was occupied until now.

The girl with emerald eyes and a lovely doll-like face is glaring daggers at me.

I hold the female southern captain’s stare with my own.

When I don’t look away, Corvina’s green eyes harden. The south has apparently made it their personal mission to test my practiced restraint. And I’ve just about fucking had it.

I blow her a kiss with my captain ring finger, earning me a round of snickers from my crew. Captain Leporem’s lip curls up high in disgust, and the girl next to her with tawny skin, topaz eyes, and tightly coiled ebony ringlets bares her teeth at me.

I smirk in return, this must be Corvina’s second .

Preceptor Beldham breaks the building storm as she sweeps into the windowless room in a flurry of navy. Captain Larceon and his crew, along with several other stray level-eights, file in after her.

Vash passes by our new seating arrangement and catches my eye.

He raises a bronze brow in question, to which I answer by shooting a black look in Agni’s direction.

His questioning gaze seeks out Kleio next, but for once, she doesn't notice his attention.

All her concentration and palpable anger seems to be reserved for the eight southern pricks.

“Seats seats!” Beldham calls, weaving through the tables.

Our preceptor takes her place behind the wooden podium at the front of the chamber, pulling out several scrolls, epistle bottles, and carefully laying down a carto-sphere before finally addressing us.

“We will be beginning where we left off last. I expect those joining today to pay close attention and speak only when prompted.” Her piercing cornflower eyes scrutinize the room before pointedly landing on the group of south order males.

Captain Agni nods to her curtly in confirmation.

Seemingly satisfied, Preceptor Beldham sets the carto-sphere atop the silver disc on her platform. The round glass ball lights up immediately to refract a 3D image in the air above us. We’re told it’s top of the line technology, courtesy of raids made in the Sunken Province.

The image projected is that of a ship. It’s ugly, bulky, and robust, with mismatched wood and a deep-set hull of solid iron.

“Who can tell me what kind of vessel we’re looking at today?” Beldham questions, her hands coming to rest along the edges of the wooden podium.