Page 48

SNEAK PEAK: UNVEILED

Chapter 1: Unveiled

* * *

"How many people did you kill in your first year?"

The question hangs in the air, spoken by a first-year water aspirant whose name I've already forgotten. Twenty pairs of wide eyes fix on me, waiting. These students survived their elemental trial just hours ago, still wearing the stunned expressions of those who've faced death and somehow stumbled away alive.

The question sparks a vivid image in my mind.

Kneeling over the windborne woman with her power flooding me. Watching her head explode and feeling the warm spatter of her blood mingling with the rain on my face. The crack of thunder overhead and the terror beating in my chest.

I blink, reminding myself where I am to wash away the memory.

I breathe in the summer air on the wind that carries a faint scent of flowers and the distant pines beyond the walls of Confluence. I look over the high wall we’re standing on at the fields outside campus—fields that are already filling with hundreds upon hundreds of Empire carriages.

Each of those carriages carries an offering. I watch them emerge, dirty, confused, and scared. I see them being herded into groups. A year ago, I was down there, feeling what they feel.

A year ago, I had no fucking idea what was in store for me. I grin to myself. I suppose I could say the same right now.

“Well?” the boy presses, reminding me of his idiotic question.

A flame of rage lights in my stomach. I turn my gaze to him. “How many people did I kill?” I repeat. “As many as it took to protect the people I cared about. No more, and no less.” I let my words linger, scanning my eyes across the group. Maybe some part of me wants to reassure them, but I can’t bring myself to. They’re about to face a nightmare, and there’s no point lying to them about it. “This place wants to strip away your humanity. Turn you into a weapon for someone else to wield. The question you should be asking is how to stay sane. How to stay who you are.”

These aspirants I'm guiding now were part of the morning batch, the first to survive the trial. They've been issued uniforms and are being assigned quarters while the next group faces the elementals. Just as it happened when I arrived a year ago—an efficient machine designed to process and test hundreds in a single day. The only difference is that I arrived after the legacies and aspirants were processed last year. This year, we’re all given jobs to help lead them to the right places.

" Evasive response, " Typhon observes, materializing beside me in his flying fish disguise. He hovers at my shoulder, scales gleaming with iridescent blue in the morning light. “But clever. Better to let them think you massacred scores of fellow students than admit you only truly killed one windborne.”

“We both know that wasn’t my intention.”

Amusement passes to me through our tether. Typhon is, in the most respectful terms possible, a bit of a bitch. He loves nothing more than pushing my buttons.

“A bit of a bitch…” he muses. “Others would call me first of my name. Lord of the tides. Rightful heir to the water throne. And yet you ? —”

“Is it true you tethered an ancient elemental? A water dragon?” a girl asks as we continue toward the water tower.

Typhon continues raging on in my mind, but I’ve become pretty good at tuning him out when I want to.

When I ignore her, the students begin talking among themselves.

“I heard she faced an entire squadron of windborne and lived.”

“I heard Lorkan and Milena Grace were with the windborne. Her dragon fought all of them off.”

“That’s bullshit. No first-year is going to survive facing a windborne. My uncle trained with one of them. Said the woman was a fucking demon.”

“Yeah, well?—”

I try to ignore their gossip. Try not to let more images come back to my mind, bitter and unwelcome. But the memory of healing Milena Grace comes anyway. The damp ruin where Lorkan tricked me. Where I stupidly helped the most dangerous unbound in our world’s history revive his greatest ally.

“It was a clever deception, ” Typhon says in my mind. “You can be forgiven for falling for it, even if I saw through it the entire time.”

“You did no such thing.”

“I prefer to let my humans make their own mistakes. A learning experience, as your kind call it.”

I grin to myself, then turn to face the aspirants, expression suddenly stern. They all seem so young already. So foolish. So…

“Screwed?” Typhon asks.

“Yeah, kind of.”

“You should all focus on what matters,” I say, silencing them as we pause in front of the water tower. “Surviving. It’s going to take everything you have just to live through this coming year. Worrying about stupid rumors is only going to distract you.”

A girl raises her hand—actually raises her hand.

I suppress a sigh, pointing at her. “Yes?”

“Are we allowed to… well… sleep with other students?”

There are some smiles among the group at her question.

“You’re allowed to do whatever the hells you want here. The only rule is you can’t leave. You’re students of Confluence, now, and you either leave in a body bag or as graduates of your fifth year. As primals.”

I see a few students swallowing visibly and looking around. It’s not new information, but maybe my delivery was a bit…

“Intense, ” Typhon suggests. “It’s good. Let them fear you. Nessa Thorne. Tamer of dragons. Resurrector of ancient enemies of human-kind. Lover of the fire-touched, who currently ? —”

“Typhon?”

“Yes, angry human?”

“Shut up.”

I finish leading the latest group of aspirants to their rooms. They, at least, aren’t offerings. They get to room alone, and they’ll have at least some semblance of protection from instructors. Instead of being not-so-subtly encouraged to kill one another, they’ll be led to believe the academy would rather they don’t.

Small victories.

I stop in front of a mirror in the hallway once I’ve dropped off the last new student. I check my uniform, fixing a place where the fabric folded over from the wind on top of the walls. The black fabric is otherwise immaculate, silver trim gleaming at the cuffs and collar. No longer an offering or even a simple aspirant. Now I'm a second-year, a survivor of the Crucible, and my status is marked by two gold bars on my collar. Second year.

Survivor.

Something I never expected to be.

My dark hair is pulled into a tight braid because wearing your hair loose is a liability. I wear it so there’s nothing for my enemies to grab. Nothing to give them an edge. My posture is upright and my shoulders are back naturally, a benefit of hard training day after day for an entire year. And my eyes… they were once blue, but they’re drifting toward silver now. Not the white of an air affinity and not the deep, ocean blue of water affinities. Something else.

When people ask, I tell them it’s because I bound Typhon. Mostly, though, people are too afraid to ask me or talk to me. Stories from the Crucible have circulated heavily in the months since. Months… it’s hard to believe it has been that long since I’ve seen Raith or any of the other second-year legacies, too. They were taken on a secret legacy-only mission by the new Rector as soon as he arrived.

All I have of Raith are those tangled, messy moments together after the Crucible and the ever-present pulse of the tether assuring me he’s alive. Alive, but so, so far away. Physically and emotionally.

Everything that happened in those final days drove a wedge between us, and the time apart only seems to be letting it sink deeper and deeper with every passing day.

" You're scheduled to meet the new water aspirants in thirty minutes, " Typhon reminds me, drifting around my head in his least impressive flying fish form. As an ancient, he can take several forms, and the smallest form was his first. It was also the form we agreed he should take in public to avoid drawing suspicion. Now everybody knows he’s a dragon, and I think he likes using the smaller form ironically. " Better hurry if you want to see Mireen's latest... project before your duties begin. "

I suppress a groan. " What has she done now? "

" You'll see. " His tone carries a hint of mischief that makes me instantly suspicious.

The water tower is quieter than usual this morning. Most second-years, like me, have been assigned to help with the integration of new students. Those who haven’t are trying to enjoy their final day of relaxation before second-year classes begin in earnest.

I make my way down the curved staircase, nodding to the few waters I pass. Some nod back with respect. Others avert their eyes, still unsure how to interact with the girl who commands an ancient water dragon.

I don't have that problem with my core group. They know exactly who I am, what I am. And against all odds, they've chosen to stand with me anyway.

I find Mireen's door slightly ajar, muffled curses, and the sound of flapping wings spilling into the hallway. I push it open to find absolute chaos.

At least a dozen small birds dart about the ceiling of her room, chirping frantically as Ollie, her water otter elemental, leaps from furniture attempting to catch them. Mireen stands in the center of the mayhem, copper-red hair falling from its braid as she waves her arms, trying to direct the birds back toward the open window.

"Just a little more to the left—no, you idiots, the other left!"

"What," I say, leaning against the doorframe, "the actual hells?"

Mireen whirls to face me, her blue eyes lighting up. "Nessa! Perfect timing. Help me get these little bastards back out the window."

"You know, most people would be satisfied with just one pet," I observe, stepping fully into the room and closing the door to prevent any escapes into the hallway. "Why do you need an entire flock?"

Last year, she started with one pet rat and ended up flooding her room with the things. Eventually, she decided the smart thing to do was slip them under doors of random legacies. The resulting panic and anger was legendary, and nobody ever traced the source back to Mireen. A few weeks ago, she mentioned she was thinking about trying to lure a bird into her room.

Now this…

"They're messengers," she explains, making a whistling sound that causes half the birds to swoop toward her extended arm. They land in a fluttering line, their tiny heads tilting as they eye her expectantly. "I've started training them. Watch.”

She whispers something to the smallest bird, a brown sparrow with white speckles on its wings, then tosses it toward the window. It shoots outside like an arrow, wings beating furiously as it vanishes into the distance.

"Messenger birds? You do realize we’re not supposed to communicate with the outside world. Under punishment of death, right?”

Mireen grins, the old crescent-shaped scar at the corner of her eye crinkling. "Sure, but it’s not like I’m going to actually send messages. They just like having jobs. Makes them feel special. Besides, it’s not against the rules for me to use them to send messages to a certain well-endowed earth affinity to arrange clandestine meetings.”

I roll my eyes, fighting a smile. After a year at Confluence, Mireen has lost none of her irreverent spirit. If anything, surviving the Crucible has only made her more determined to find moments of joy amidst the danger. It's one of the things I love most about her.

"So you and Jorvan are old news, then?” I ask.

She shrugs, sending another bird out the window with a whispered message. "Jorvan couldn’t handle me. Anyway, Ambrose thinks the birds are a genius idea. Says if we ever need to coordinate outside the academy walls, these little friends could be invaluable."

I help her coax the remaining birds back to the window ledge, my thoughts turning to the rest of our group. "Any news from the outside?” I ask.

Mireen wiggles her eyebrows. She has a way of getting people to say things they shouldn’t, and has been pestering the Empire guards posted around campus for updates all summer. We’ll likely get our fill soon when classes resume, but we’ve been starved for updates about what’s going on.

“The guard with that silly little mustache did give me a nugget this morning. I think he was in a good mood at the idea of pushing around some offerings. You know the guards love us most when we first arrive. We’re not scary. Yet, ” she adds with a wiggle of her red brows.

“Okay,” I say, making a circular gesture to get her to the point. “And the nugget of information?”

“Right. He said there are rumors Krusk fell a few weeks back.” She sees the look of confusion on my face. “A city along the border. Years ago, it was Red Kingdom territory, but Empire took it and has been holding it. The thing is… they say it didn’t fall to Red Kingdom. My little guard friend said silver flags are flying. Flags showing a silver spiral.”

I unconsciously touch the mark on the back of my left hand. We’re all marked to show our affinity when we first arrive, and the mark I was given was a silver spiral. Unbound. Different, deadly, feared, and once hunted to near extinction.

I was able to disguise the mark so it looks like a water affinity mark, though, and aside from the silver threads running through my mark, it’s a perfect disguise.

"Lorkan and Milena," I murmur, the names sending a chill down my spine despite the warm summer air drifting through the open window.

Mireen nods, suddenly solemn. "Makes sense. Right? But it sounds like they had a small army. They’d have to if they wanted to take Krusk. The place is a fortress, and there would’ve been primals stationed there along with soldiers.”

My insides twist.

“What do you think they’re planning?” she asks. “Conquer everything? Gods. Can you imagine?”

I shake my head, but I have a small idea of at least one of their plans. They want me. It’s why I’m still breathing. They think if they leave me alive, I’ll see the “truth” about Raith eventually. That Aurenciels can’t be trusted because their history is filled with atrocities committed against unbound.

I just wish Raith was here. Here so I could talk to him about all the things that have been hanging unsaid between us. And I wish part of me wasn’t afraid Lorkan and Milena were right—that letting me come back here on my own would slowly poison me.

Because that same part of me understands something more clearly than I’d like: Empire and Red Kingdom will never accept someone like me. I’m a threat to them. Dangerous. Too dangerous to be allowed to live unchained, at least.

The best I can hope for if I stay here is to grow my power until I can break any chains they may try to put on me. But what then? Would I simply exist as a rogue force in Empire’s army, too strong to cage but too powerful to trust?

Lorkan and Milena might offer me the only place I could ever just… be.

But every time I think of them, I remember the siphon that nearly killed Raith and me last year. The people responsible for making a creature as terrible as that can’t possibly be people I should join. Right?

"Hey." Mireen touches my arm, bringing me back to the present. "You okay?"

"Fine," I lie. I can’t confide in anyone about my doubts. Raith is the only one I could even imagine talking to about them, and he’s not here. He hasn’t been all fucking summer. "Just thinking about the new aspirants. I should probably get going."

She eyes me skeptically but doesn't press. Another thing I love about her—she knows when to push and when to let things be. "I'll see you at dinner, then? Beck wants to get everyone together, catch up before classes actually start."

"I'll be there." I move toward the door, pausing with my hand on the latch. "And Mireen? Try not to adopt any more wildlife before then."

Her laughter follows me into the hallway, bright and genuine. For a moment, I almost feel normal—just another student preparing for a new academic year. Almost.

But then I pass a group of second-years who fall silent at the sight of me, their eyes tracking my movement with a mixture of fear and fascination. The illusion shatters.

I am not normal. Maybe I never was.

***