Page 17

Chapter

Eleven

ARA

I’m walking down a small path with a bundle of firewood in my arms. It’s quiet around me, the trees swallowing the noise of the camp in the distance.

The ground is spongy beneath my feet, and the air is fragrant with the scent of pine trees and eucalyptus.

I look up when a shadow flits over me and watch Daeva’s dark silhouette vanish behind the canopy of trees.

A screech and then the harsh sound of metal hitting metal shatters the silence, followed by a shout. I drop the wood and start running before my head catches up with what I hear. The shouts and clanging come closer, and with them, the hum of angry voices and shouted commands.

I might be new to the military, but I’m pretty sure that’s not a drill. I push myself to go faster, and when I rush into the clearing, chaos greets me. I stumble to a halt.

Other runners break through the underbrush next to me, their faces a mix of horror and confusion.

Tents are turned over, people are jumping over discarded bags. Smoke wells up from the firepit, the pot that soaked the flames lies empty beside it.

Everywhere, runners and riders are fighting off pale, rough-looking men in mismatched armor.

Three fight Kyronos, who is the closest to me, and I am about to help him when he buries his blade in one of them, and another stumbles away clutching his throat.

His blades are swirling through the air so fast that I have a hard time following, and he advances on his third opponent with a grin. I guess he doesn’t need assistance.

A cry for help draws my gaze over to a runner whose right arm is limp, red staining his sleeve around a protruding arrow.

I sprint to his side, drawing my two daggers, and meet the blade swinging for his neck before it connects.

The runner doesn’t hesitate. He rips the arrow from his arm and, angling upward, drives it through the attacker’s upper belly into his heart.

I stay next to him, guarding him until he finishes wrapping his arm in a makeshift dressing and retrieves his sword. A dark shape dives down and grabs one of the attackers, his scream fading when the bird wins height.

There are shouts and screams all around me while I turn and look for my squadron and especially Calix and Mariel.

Calix's big frame is easy to make out even in this chaos, and I head his way whenan assailant intercepts me.

“Summer, watch out!” The shout has me evading the strike the attacker meant to impale me with. I spin away, and he follows. He is fast, and I barely manage to get my blades up to stop his next maneuver.

Leaving my sword at the camp when I gathered firewood was a mistake I’ll never make again.

Joel shouting my name in the distance registers dimly, but I’m too busy dodging the blows coming for me to react to that.

I evade more than I block and have nearly no chance to strike back.

My attacker is a bull of a man with reddish-blond hair, his chest protected by a chest plate. He comes at me hard, slashing, hacking, one strike after the other. I have to evade and retreat again and again.

The sword arcs down, and I step back again. Only to bump into something hard—a tree. I bumped into a fucking tree.

I shift sideways and stumble, my concentration faltering for a second, but that is all it takes. My curse turns into a hiss when my attacker slashes across my chest. I bring my leg up and kick him off before he can do any more damage. He stumbles back, right into Calix’s sword.

I send Calix a relieved smile before looking down at myself and assess the damage. I prod at the red line that starts to color my tunic along the ripped edges and hiss.

The layers of wrap I used to hide my breasts provided some protection, but I already feel it give and slide.

“You okay?” Calix is in front of me, looking concerned. It has become quieter around us. I look around. Only two are still engaged in battle, and the attackers are either dealt with or flee as I watch. The tide turned quickly, not a given, considering we are mostly runners.

“Yeah. Thanks to you, I’m fine.” I heave out a breath. “I will just put something on that.” I gestured to the slash on my chest.

Calix winces and nods. “I'll see how the others are doing.” The clearing is too quiet after the commotion. What happened seems unreal, like a bad dream. But the bodies, the blood, and the chaos surrounding us say otherwise.

Only when the first bird starts chirping again do I realize the animals around us have been silent, too.

I head over to our tent, relieved when I find my pack and sword where I left them.

In the safety of the tent, I quickly slip out of the bloodied and torn tunic and knot together what is left of the wrap beneath.

The curved cut travels from my left collarbone in the direction of my rib cage on the right side, ending between my breasts.

The most damage is close to my collarbone, with barely a scratch on the bottom end.

It doesn’t seem deep enough to have severed muscle, which means one more scar for my collection. It will hurt like a bitch, but it won't restrain me too badly in case of another fight.

I guess I’ll have to wear high-necked dresses from now on.

Cleaning the cut with the water I carry and dousing it in something from the healing kit that smells like the cleansing stuff my mother always uses is all I can do for now.

I manage to clean and bandage the wound and slip into a fresh tunic before anyone comes looking for me. The wound would probably be better off with stitching, but I’m not sure I’d be able to stomach that even if I had the time. It would take a lot of stitches.

I get back to the others without anyone noticing my absence. Once I come closer, I realize why. Centurion Kyronos, Joel, and the other riders stand beside four unmoving bodies, looking grim and talking in low voices. We have lost someone.

When I step closer, Gaius and Clay are the only ones I recognize for sure. They were in my flight. Next to them lie two more runners, so we lost at least four of our division today.

We pack up silently while a few decorate the bodies. The birds will bring them up into the mountains. Skyriders don’t bury their fallen. They offer them to the birds, a start for new life to come. A practice I’m still getting used to.

While runners die at the academy too—sharp weapons, dangerous obstacle courses, vicious creatures, and learning to wield magic do take their toll—this feels different.

Kyronos's gaze rests on us until the last murmurs subside.

“We honor the memory of four brave souls,” he starts, and I’m instantly mesmerized by his warm, deep voice.

“They were more than runners; they were brothers-in-arms, ready to lay down … everything for those beside them. In their brief time among us, they served with loyalty. They lived with honor, and their loss reminds us that protecting each other is the truest form of service.” I watch him while he speaks.

He doesn’t wear his helmet. His dark hair is ruffled, and the stubble of his beard, the intensity in his eyes, and a streak of blood on his cheek make him look rough and dark, a stark contrast to the eloquent way he speaks.

“May they find peace and watch over us as we honor their memory through our actions.” He takes a deep breath.

“Their journey is finished, but we continue.” For a second, pain flashes in his eyes, but his voice stays steady.

“We carry them with us in each breath, in every step, assuring their sacrifice was not in vain.” Gods, this man is beautiful, and the way he speaks …

He knows loss. I’m sure of it. That knowledge forms a connection, and the aching need to comfort him unfurls in my chest.

“We consign their souls to Elet, the mother who gives and takes. We will honor their gift and let it reinforce us whenever the path is dark and the cost heavy.” Kyronos closes, and I draw in a shuddering breath.

Damn him. That glimpse of pain beneath the perfect facade draws me in and makes him more intriguing.

Why does my centurion have to be so damn attractive?

I do my best to smother that attraction while we runners bide our time. The birds take the bodies away, and our centurion and the other riders discuss how we proceed. Normally, we would have spent another day up here, but now…

“We should fly. We could be ambushed on the way back,” the other squadron leader, Flavius, says.

“No, that would leave a small group vulnerable for hours,” Kyronos objects. “We are one unit. We’ll march back together.”

We walk in silence, only stopping to make camp when dusk is well upon us. The cut on my chest itches and burns, the fabric of my shirt chafes, the pack pulls on the skin around it, and the sweat seeping into it doesn’t help either.

I try to ease it by pulling my shirt away from my body, drawing Joel’s gaze in the process.

“You’re hurt,” he barks out, standing in front of me in two quick steps. His shout draws everyone's attention. Great.

I follow his gaze down to my chest and see two dark stains on my once clean tunic. The bandages must have slipped or soaked through during the walk. Joel grabs my shirt like he wants to pull it up. I swat his hands away.

“I'm fine,” I hiss.

“Let me look at it.” He is anything but calm. Probably envisioning how he has to confess to Ben that I bled out on his watch.

“No!” I glare at him, trying to convey without words that he has to shut up. Now.

“Summer, you are hurt?” Kyronos stands next to Joel now.

Fuck me. Not him, too.

His eyes sweep over me, assessing the obvious bloodstains. “Come with me.”

He turns and strides away, and I glare some more at Joel, contemplating if ignoring them both is an option while dread coils in my gut.

This is not fucking happening.

Kyronos snapping my name impatiently when I don’t follow tells me it is.

Shit. Can I somehow convince him that it isn’t worth his time?

I hurry after him.

“It’s barely a scratch,” I say while we pass Calix, Mariel, and Simeon, who are stacking wood for a fire.

“One of those buggers tried to filet him before I got there,” Calix butts in.

Way to make it sound even worse. I glare at him. He just shrugs.

Kyronos glances at Calix before his gaze comes back to me. “Then you won't mind me assessing that for myself, will you?” He turns and walks over to a tree where he had placed his pack and bedroll.

“I’ll take care of it.” Joel is coming after us, finally realizing the problem he caused.

“Do you have healing abilities I didn't know about, Cassius?” Kyronos sounds bored.

“No, but …” Joel tries to come up with something to say, his mouth working soundlessly.

“Well, I do. So get back to the others and start a fire.” When Joel doesn’t immediately react, he snaps, “That is an order, Cassius.”

Shit, shit, shit, if he can heal, I’m in even bigger trouble than I thought.

Joel sends me a look that tells me he feels bad for putting me in this position before he follows the centurion’s orders and leaves.

“Sit.” Kyronos gestures to his bedroll. I plop my butt down because what else can I do now but play along. “Take off your shirt, Summer.” He goes over to his pack, rifling through it. He glances over his shoulder when I don’t move, pinning me with his golden eyes.

“I’m not gonna eat you.” He turns back, shaking his head, while he pulls out a healing kit that screams healer since it is far more extensive than the one we carry.

My palms turn sweaty, and my heart accelerates. I take a deep breath and remove my helmet. No point in hiding my hair if he’ll see me without a shirt.

I glance over at the camp, but everyone is busy setting up, and no one pays us any attention. Kyronos is still turned away from me, and I release the breath I’ve been holding. No point in delaying.

I wince as I pull the shirt over my head. It has gotten stuck on the two places the blood seeped through. My head comes free, and I look up into the stunned eyes of my division leader.