Page 1 of Elas (Mate’s Mark #2)

Elas

Ninety-Five Years Ago

A lack of intelligence demands an abundance of toughness. It’s nature’s most basic law. If you’re going to be dumb, you have to be tough, and if you’re neither… Well, you better pray to the Fates that you’re pretty.

My opponent struck out on all three counts.

“Come on, is that all you’ve got?” I feign a lunge at Khors with a mocking smile, savoring the violent, mossy green rage that sparks in his eyes.

I enjoy his fury far too much. Dust kicks into the air as he makes a bulky dodge to the left.

He aims a clumsy sweep at my legs, like he might actually surprise me with a maneuver he’s attempted six times today—each of them as unsuccessful as the last.

Khors is from the Khileon race, so while I have a height advantage over him, he’s bulky as fuck.

Powerful hands and bulging muscles that could tear me limb from limb, but nobody beats a Nu’vak in reaction speed.

Our heightened senses don’t miss a thing.

Just before he lunges, his breathing hitches and the muscles along his shoulders twitch, and I laugh as I dodge again, catching the wind from his failed attempt.

I redirect my practice sword, lifting the hilt and twisting the wooden blade to slap against his cheek with a satisfying thwack. “Move faster, princess. If you’re going to be that ugly, you gotta learn to pick up those feet.”

“Fuck you, Elas!” he bellows, swinging at me in a series of desperate, sloppy swipes as his cheeks redden. His temper always gets the best of him, and today is no different. Some might say I have a little something to do with that, and sure… maybe they have a point.

But I match energy, and his is a cloud of toxic waste.

Dickweed.

His left side is his weakness, and I wait for another opening before I lunge. When he flinches, I spin my sword and swing it between his legs, tapping him in the balls with a laugh.

“Gods damn you!” he shouts, flinging his weapon aside and charging.

Well, shit.

The breath leaves me in a whoosh as my back crashes into the dirt, his weight on my gut pinning me in place. His fist slams into my cheek, and I throw my head back and laugh even harder, my strained lungs wheezing as he punches me again.

“Is that the best you can do?” I taunt, and the next blow splits my lip, but I keep smiling at him.

He fucking hates it when I smile. “Maybe if you’d actually learn how to use your sword, your balls wouldn’t be retracting up into your body to hide.

I’m surprised they ever dropped to begin with, you pansy ass little—“

His fist pulls back, and I brace myself for the blow.

A flash of purple shoots between us and wraps around his wrist. We both startle and turn to the newcomer.

“You’re being a bully,” he sneers at Khors, crossing his arms. The arrogance in his posture and the condescending curl of his lip make me start laughing all over again.

He’s not a day over eighteen, all gangly elbows and knees.

Khors snarls at him, trying to rip his hand free from the tail that’s wrapped around it.

The kid only snares his other hand with a second tail, looking wholly unimpressed.

Khors is neon red now, the color an ugly clash with his sickly pale green skin.

“In case you missed it, this is a fucking training ring, not a daycare,” Khors snarls, but the kid gives a bored shrug.

“Weapons training, yes… not hand-to-hand combat. Unless you’re trying to tell me you consider those hands weapons…” He trails off, giving another snarky once-over to Khors, who easily doubles him in size. “Well,” he says after a pause, huffing a derisive laugh, “that would be funny, wouldn’t it?”

“I’m going to fucking kill you!” Khors roars, and I smile wider, slipping my hands behind my head as I watch him struggle to get free. “Mark my words, I will chop your tails off and shove them right up your—“

“Ah, boys,” Officer Bravis says, his voice tight and fuse short. “I see you’ve already made us look bad to our newest recruit.” Khors stops resisting and attempts to look innocent, even with my blood streaking his knuckles.

I’m convinced Khors and Bravis are related somehow. It’s the only way to explain how Khors is progressing through his training, despite his inability to swing anything other than a fist. Bravis glances at me on the ground, raising his brow at the trickle of blood leaking from my busted lip.

“Elas, am I to assume you were mouthing off again?”

“He hit me in the balls,” Khors whines, and Bravis levels him with a dangerous stare.

“If he caught you off guard, then you need to work on your defenses. How many times must we go through this?” Khors drops his eyes to the ground, admonished, and I can’t help my chuckle at his suspended hands hanging in the air. He’s a puppet, dangling from his strings.

“Ronan, release him.” The Anunian kid nods, slacking his grip. Khors yanks his arms back, rubbing his wrists while he mutters under his breath.

Officer Bravis seizes him by the neck of his armor and yanks him to his feet.

“If you’re going to make the effort to speak, have the courage to say it where everyone can hear.

” Khors’s face burns an even brighter red, but he remains silent.

Bravis snarls and leads him away, holding him by the scruff of his neck like a naughty child being sent to time out.

“Why was he hitting you?” Ronan asks, reaching for me. I blink in surprise, but take his offered hand as I stand and knock the dirt off my armor.

“He says I smile too much.” He cocks his head, the condescending action causing me to laugh again at the absurdity. A scrawny teenager a full foot shorter than me somehow pulls off a sneer that makes me feel two feet tall. “That, and I did smack him in the balls.”

Ronan glances at where Bravis has dragged Khors aside, random angry words from his lecture finding their way to us. “Why’d you let him hit you?”

A wave of nausea washes over me, and I step back, shaking my head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Ronan’s deep brown eyes meet mine, blinking a few times before gesturing at me. “I watched the two of you for a few minutes. You’re obviously the better fighter. Why’d you sit there and take it?”

“He’s bigger than me—“

“You’re lying.” My mouth drops open as he crosses his arms and pins me with a stare.

“You’re a ballsy little shit, aren’t you?”

He shrugs. “I’ve heard that a time or two in my life.” Another dart of those judgmental eyes sweeps up and down my frame. “You never answered me. Why didn’t you fight back?”

“Because he’s an idiot. It wouldn’t be fair to knock more of his brain cells loose when he has so few to spare.”

“Nah, that isn’t it.”

“Who the fuck are you to come in here and question me?” My temper flares as I take a step closer, towering over him. “I’m a soldier, and you’re nothing but a scrawny kid that doesn’t know when to keep his mouth shut.”

He huffs another laugh, shaking his head so his tiny ponytail bobs.

“Some soldier. I just watched you let a guy whale on you, and now you expect me to be intimidated?” I swallow hard as I’m hit by a strange contradiction.

Part of me wants to deny his allegations, while the other part is desperate to scream my confirmation from the mountaintops.

What sort of evil twist of fate put someone who detests violence under the most notorious of the leaders? Bravis might not be in the highest ranks of our military, but his reputation is widely known.

Infamously heartless, with no tolerance for weakness.

My fists clench at my sides, tempted to punch the Anunian kid in his face and knock one of his stupid little fangs out just to prove him wrong. I can’t fail here. It’s not an option, not for me.

Soldiers who can’t keep up with the demands don’t just get to leave. You can’t pack up and go home again, not from here. There’s no early retirement plan, other than a sword to your neck—and the neck of everyone you ever loved.

There are always consequences, and some prices are not worth paying.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” I hiss, charging closer and shoving my finger into his face. He goes cross-eyed for a moment, then blinks a few times in surprise. “And you’d do well to keep your fucking mouth shut about things you know nothing about.”

His tail coils around my wrist, much like it did Khors’s, only gentler. He guides it from his face and tilts his head once again. “It’s okay. I don’t really like fighting, either.”

“Then why are you here?” I snarl, refusing to confirm his observation.

His lips pull into a sad frown, and his eyes drop to the ground. “My village was attacked. By the time Officer Bravis’s platoon arrived… there weren’t many of us left.”

“Your parents?” I ask, voice gentler.

He shakes his head, still looking down. “My mom died when I was a kid, but my dad didn’t survive the attack.”

My heart pinches as an image of my own mother flashes through my mind. Thin limbs and sunken cheeks, head heavy against her downy pillow. The blue tones of her skin had faded to a sickly gray, but she smiled when I walked in wearing my freshly issued military leathers.

It wasn’t a happy smile, though.

She knew what I was sacrificing.

“I’m sorry,” I finally say. He releases my wrist, but I catch his tail, holding onto it as his gaze snaps up to mine. A deep breath fills my lungs as I look into his sorrowful eyes, far too big for his face. A kindred spirit hides there, shining back at me.

Someone who might understand my plight.

“The violence makes my skin crawl,” I whisper, despite knowing I shouldn’t. A tiny huff of air leaves his nose as his tail flexes in my hand, curling around my fingers. “You hate it too, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” he whispers back, seeming to grasp the importance of these words not reaching any other ears.

“No one can know.”

“I won’t tell.”

“About you either,” I say with a shake of my head. “If any of them figure it out, you’ll be in trouble.”

“What does trouble look like around here? ”

“It’s—“

“ Elas! “ I jerk back, releasing Ronan’s tail and straightening my spine as Bravis shouts at me from across the training ring. “Come here.”

“Yes, sir,” I shout, sparing another glance at Ronan before I jog over.

“By the gods, Khors is a lost cause, isn’t he?” he mutters as he watches Khors stomp away, kicking rocks as he sulks.

“Sir?”

Bravis shakes his head, focusing his attention on me. “You’ve gotten acquainted with Ronan?” It’s disguised as a question, but I’m not foolish enough to accept it as one. I’m certainly not foolish enough to lie. Nothing escapes his notice on this base.

“Briefly, sir. We just exchanged pleasantries.”

A preoccupied hum leaves him as he watches Ronan standing awkwardly in the training ring, his gaze darting nervously from side to side. “Don’t let his size distract you—that boy is a warrior. Mark my words, someday he’ll be one of our best.”

“That kid?” My skepticism comes in bounds. Sure, he’s squirrelly, but he’s small and has already admitted he hates fighting.

“His mother was one of the most fearsome warriors I ever met.”

“She was military?” I ask in surprise, but Bravis shakes his head.

“Once upon a time, yes. But she was also a royal pain in my ass. Constantly challenging orders and refusing directives. Ronan was nothing more than a babe on her hip when she and that useless husband of hers fled.”

“They deserted?”

He nods, squaring his intense stare on me. “Ronan can never know, in case he decides to follow in dear old mommy’s footsteps. He is too soft, Elas. Shielded by a life of luxury, living in the woods with peacemakers and radicals. I need you to toughen him up.”

“Toughen him up?” I repeat in shock. Ronan is just a kid, while I’m pushing twenty-five and nearly twice his size. “Sir, I don’t think—“

“That’s right, Elas, you don’t think. You are not here to think . You are here to follow orders… my orders. And I’m ordering you to take him into that ring and demonstrate exactly what will be expected of him under my command.”

“You want me to train him?”

“I want you to show him what I require of my warriors.”

Icy dread clenches my stomach as bile rises into the back of my throat. “You expect me to… beat him up? Sir, he’s still in shock from the attack on his village. What would—“

“Thought you only exchanged pleasantries?” he interrupts, a deadly calm to his voice.

“We did,” I stress, pushing my fingers through my short, dense curls. “But it just happened. Of course he’s going to mention it. He’s mourning.”

“Which means he’s malleable. This is a crucial time to mold him into the monster I need him to be.” He sets those eyes on me once again. “Don’t permanently injure him, but show him what it means to be strong.”

Bravis shouts for Ronan to join me in the ring, and Ronan timidly nods and walks towards the rack of practice swords. “Oh, you won’t be needing that,” Bravis yells, and Ronan glances at him in question. “Hand to hand combat, first.”

Ronan’s eyes get wide as they meet mine, sweeping up and down my much larger body. “Sir?” he finally croaks.

“Elas is going to… show you the ropes.” Ronan gulps again and nods. Bravis leans in, speaking directly into my ear, and I barely fight back a shiver. “You understand the consequences of disappointing me, Elas.”

Visions of cramped, dark spaces flood my mind, and my flinch is involuntary. Even in the bright afternoon, I feel the crippling sensation of the walls closing in on me, remembering how my throat closes up when I want to scream but can’t figure out how.

“Yes, sir,” I manage with a shaky voice, and he releases another of those dark chuckles before he pats me on the cheek.

“That’s a good soldier.”