Page 12 of Vicious Princess (The Trials of Death and Honor #1)

CHAPTER ELEVEN

I wake up two hours before breakfast, before the dawn, to sneak into the showers before anyone else is awake.

With a bar of soap and a towel in hand, I creep down the long, dark corridor until I finally find the dreaded common bathroom. I pass the toilet stalls and enter the damp shower area. No separation between genders here.

I sigh and strip out of my linen sleeping pants and shirt. Leaving them on the bench against the wall, I hurry to one of the showerheads. There’s a metal lever attached to the wall. I’ve never seen a contraption like that before.

Hesitantly, I push it down. Something behind the wall whirls to life. The lever rises back up, and I push it again. Ah, this is some sort of pump.

With confidence, I push it down a couple of times. The first stream of cold water makes me gasp. I expect for the stream to turn warm any second. But it never does.

“Of course,” I mutter to myself with clattering teeth.

Why would I even expect hot water in a place like this?

Quickly, I lather myself with soap, and just as quickly, I wash it all off with the freezing water. By the time I’m done, every fiber in my body shivers.

Grabbing my soap, I whirl on my heel. A scream escapes my throat. Roman is leaning against one of the shower walls.

“You scared me to death!”

His gaze swoops over my naked skin, making it prickle. I rush to cover myself with a towel, trying to hide the scar tissue left by the ruthless tongues of flame.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to,” he says. “I didn’t expect to find anyone here so early.”

“Yeah, same,” I say, breathless still. I clutch the towel around me so tightly, my knuckles are white. “I woke up early to have a peaceful shower without bumping shoulders with others. What about you?”

Roman cracks a smile. “I like to take showers in solitude to avoid the small-dick jokes.”

I blink at him. Is he…serious?

“I’m sorry to hear that,” I manage.

Roman’s smile widens, and he shrugs. “It’s alright. It has its perks. I never have to be the top.”

The laugh that bubbles out of my chest surprises even me, the sound foreign to my ears.

Roman pushes himself off the wall and starts stripping. I avert my gaze, giving him privacy, and get dressed.

His voice coming from behind me makes me pause. “I heard Wetrans like to carve up their Decarios.”

My skin is littered with white lines and curves from my Decarios training back in Wetra, plus larger uneven patches of shiny skin from the fire.

“Yeah, they do. Withstanding a thousand cuts is part of the training,” I reply without turning to face him. Once I’m clad in my leathers, I feel more at ease. I glance at Roman over my shoulder. “I heard you used to do that here, too. Before it was outlawed.”

Roman stands with his back to me. He’s absolutely shredded , dark skin taut over lean muscles. I envy the fae agility he possesses.

“Yeah,” he says. There’s not a single sign of strain in his voice despite the freezing water pouring down on him. “The Ezkai General before Kitajo Hiromasa established the new way of training Decarios who want to become Ezkai.”

Kitajo Hiromasa. I tuck that name away inside my mind.

“Have you met the current Ezkai General?” I try to sound as nonchalant as possible.

Roman chuckles. “I haven’t. I’m not one of the privileged brats. But I heard we’ll meet him. At least, we should. The current General likes to be hands-on with his Ezkai cadets.”

“Cool,” I say. “Well, I’ll see you at breakfast.”

Roman waves at me, and I return to our living quarters. Despite my leathers, I’m chilled to the bone. On Roman’s bunk, I line up my blades. I’m not sure how many I’ll need during the training, if I’ll need any at all.

“This isn’t just steel,” Dad said, handing me the short blade with an onyx handle. “It’s a promise. That you’ll protect what matters. That you’ll know when to draw it…and when to sheathe it.”

I had never held anything so beautiful. Or so heavy.

“One day,” he added, “you might need to fight without me. This blade means you’ll never fight alone.”

I close my eyes with a sigh. I feel more comfortable with my blades on me, so I neatly tuck all seven in their usual places: one in each boot, one against my thigh, two around my waist, and one in each of my leather jacket sleeves.

By the time I’m done, the rest of the cadets are up, getting ready for the day. I grab my bow and a quiver, then head out. It’s been so long since I’ve had a meal, I definitely don’t want to skip breakfast today.

In the dining hall, I get a tray and stand in the line that’s already forming despite it being early. The smell of warm food tickles my nose, and my stomach twists painfully. The people in front of me in line turn to glance at me from time to time.

I try very hard to keep my face neutral, to not give away just how uncomfortable those unfriendly, cold glances make me feel. I don’t dare to think what sort of bullshit rumors other students exchange behind my back.

I tell myself I don’t care.

I’m not here to make friends. I’m here to train, excel, become the best Ezkai I can be.

My mouth waters when it’s finally my turn to fill my tray.

When the server puts a bowl of oatmeal, a cup of roasted mixed beans, a dish overflowing with steamed vegetables, and a plate with scrambled yellowish substance that looks like egg but isn’t actually egg on my tray and gestures for me to move forwards, I’m less than enthusiastic.

That’s a weird-ass breakfast. Where’s the meat?

The dining hall is just as bare and simple as the barracks. No artwork covers the walls, the stone left bare. Only essential furniture is here—long heavy wooden tables with benches and the kitchen island on the side where they serve food.

As I pass the tables, I hear the hushed whispers, the mocking laughs. See the narrowed gazes. It follows me all the way to the very corner of the dining hall.

I place my tray on the table and slide onto the bench without looking up from my food. Instead, I focus on filling my belly. It might be odd, but it’s damn delicious.

Once I’m done with my food, I don’t linger. I bring the empty dishes to the counter and make my way outside. This early in the day, the air is crisp. I let my head fall back, and my eyes shutter.

I inhale a deep breath, savoring the fresh air filling my lungs. When I open my eyes, pink-and-purple morning sky greets me. I haven’t been in Ekios for long, but I’m surprised how clear the sky here is at all times.

Today I have physical training, so I make my way to the lecture hall.

Here, the interior is just as minimal as everywhere else.

The back wall of the building is made up of slanted wooden doors that are half-open.

Even from where I stand, I can see the stone pavement that gives way to beige sand in the outside training area.

Against one of the walls, there’s a line of wooden benches. I take a seat there to wait for the training to start. Not long after, all sixteen of us are here. I glance at the clock on the wall. It’s seven sharp, but our instructor is not here.

No way our instructor is late, considering how much they preach about punctuality. I watch the seconds tick by. Before it reaches one minute past seven, the door swings open.

My head whips to the side, towards the sound, and my heart tumbles from my chest, all the way down to my heels.

No. Fucking. Way.

When I meet my instructor’s gaze, heat rises up my chest and neck.

I bite the inside of my cheek, praying that he doesn’t remember how desperately I moaned while he fucked me against that door in the utility closet of some random bar.

I’m so fucked.