Page 5 of Death’s Kiss (The Order of the Tide Raiders #1)
“Good catch there, Captain,” Oplon calls across the set of mats that make up our training sectors. His salt-and-pepper hair is tied back in a low bun that continues down into a matching beard. He motions for me to come over to him, and his mouth twitches with the threat of a smile.
I give him a nod in understanding before setting the discs carefully in their holder along the wall covered floor-to-ceiling in weapons, then head his way. Javin is gulping down water when I come near.
“Good session, Supad,” I say in passing .
He gives me a wink and replies suggestively over his flask, "Let me know anytime you need a good workout, Boreas. I’d be more than happy to oblige, Cap."
I roll my eyes and throw him a one-finger salute before jogging over to where Preceptor Oplon stands with Captain Larceon at his side.
Javin has probably slept with half our level at this point.
Although his flirtatious attempts have never landed with myself, I can’t say the same for all of my crew members.
Upon my approach, Vash gives me no indication he knows why we’ve been called over.
Instead, he pushes back his sweat-laden bronze hair before flashing a roguish grin—the kind that drives almost all the girls in our level and many below crazy.
As always, it only serves to amplify my own annoyance, and my attention turns toward our instructor.
“Captains,” Preceptor Oplon says by way of greeting, his gray eyes shifting between us. “You two have been called to the Regent’s quarters and are expected to report there immediately.”
“Did she say why?” Vash asks before I can.
Oplon’s painted smile reveals nothing. “I would guess she’s expecting you any minute now, and I wouldn’t keep her waiting if I were you,” he warns, leaning on the silver stingray cane that betrays his irreparable shoulder injury.
It's for that reason he no longer sails under the current Tide Raider King and is instead stuck here training us.
He gives us a grimace before turning around in dismissal and heading for the training mats directly diagonal.
Oplon's voice takes on a thunderous edge when growling out, “Eiran! What did I say about spatial jumping during the lesson today? You’re going to end up in front of a disc, and I am not in the mood to clean your guts off the stone!”
We leave before hearing Eiran’s typical smartass retort.
Vash doesn’t even look worried that his third is currently tempting fate, both with the dancing discs and Preceptor Oplon. On the contrary, his angular face is uncharacteristically reserved on our walk through the tunnels leading back up to the main levels.
For a while, only the sound of our footsteps fills the halls until eventually rock becomes wood.
“I know that you know, Merena,” Vash states, breaking our silence and abruptly derailing me from my current train of thought.
“What?” I ask, looking over at him, having to tilt my head up to fully meet his green-speckled gaze.
It doesn’t seem like so long ago that he was shorter than me. Then, in levels three and four, he grew so we were exactly the same height. It drove him mad until level five, when he hit a growth spurt, dropped his voice several octaves, and became more popular with the girls.
By level seven, he’d won just about everyone else over, as his later promotion to captaincy proved. But Kleio has been infatuated with him since that first night.
His mouth tugs into a half-smirk, and green eyes glitter with amusement. I just might detest his affinity most of all. His ability to tell the truth from lies—and, in turn, to pass on lies as easily as truth—has always left me feeling off-footed.
And I hate feeling anything less than certain.
“The Vault,” he comments casually. Like he’s mentioning something about the weather and not the biggest opportunity in the last decade.
I give him a small frown. “I might have heard a rumor about it. Why do you bring it up?”
Vash laughs, and the sound of it is so at odds with the dark-stained wooden halls we walk that I can’t help but smirk a bit.
But anytime I’ve thought about the Vault this last week and what it could mean, I feel a dangerous amount of hope flutter inside.
So naturally, I do everything in my power to smash it.
Clamping down on my smirk, I force my face into an expression of cool indifference.
“Why else would the old bat be calling us to her office?” he adds, giving me a sidelong glance .
Taking the end of my long white braid from where it hangs over a shoulder, I begin twisting the thick strands around a finger before answering in mock innocence, "Maybe she wants to have tea and give us sweets as a congratulation for our promotions."
Vash snorts a laugh, and I suppress my own.
The thought of Regent Beldham doing anything of the sort is about as ridiculous as the Sol Emperor himself showing up to the Order with a hand-stitched white flag. Which is to say, completely absurd.
"Okay, smartass," Vash rolls his eyes. "Have it your way."
His steps slow, and I realize that we’ve made it to the tall black doors marking the entryway to our Regent’s quarters. I’m about to retort when the sound of Beldham’s voice stops me.
"Larceon, Boreas, do not make me wait any longer than I already have," she clips briskly from the other side of the doors.
I bite my tongue and slip inside after Vash.