Page 13 of Vicious Princess (The Trials of Death and Honor #1)

CHAPTER TWELVE

T here are only three rules I have to obey while attending Ezkai Academy.

Only three.

And I managed to break one before I even started my damn training.

Way to go, Phoenix.

I’m grateful Daegel doesn’t react.

His gaze moves away from me to sweep over the rest of the students, and he comes to stand in the middle of the hall with his hands clasped behind his back.

“Good morning,” he says, calm and full of confidence. My knees are weak. Thank fuck I’m sitting. “I’m Ezkai Major Daegel, Executioner Unit. I’ll be your physical prowess instructor for the duration of your training.”

A damn Ezkai Major? Oh dear, I might as well have fucked the General himself.

I should have anticipated this happening before I had sex with a sexy Ezkai stranger in the bar.

I knew we’d probably cross paths again at some point because he belongs to the Order. When I’m an Ezkai, not while I’m training. It’s one of the only three damn rules I have to obey.

My mind is running a thousand miles an hour. I run the sweaty palms over my pants, but it doesn’t help.

“We’ll start by assessing your combat skills.

If some of you have an affinity and a chosen weapon, we’ll also test the strength of your affinity and whether you actually have one,” Daegel says.

“This is a series of routine tests that all new cadets have to go through. To figure out the best training course for each of you, we need to know your starting point. Also, the results of your tests will be used to nudge you towards training specifically for one of the five Order units—the Spies, the Protectors, the Executioners, the Scriveners, and the Menders.”

A few cadets raise their hands to ask questions. I try very hard to focus, but my mind keeps wandering to that night at the bar. I can get in trouble for having sex with Daegel. Does that mean he’d be punished in some way, too?

I sure hope. That’s the only way I can come out of this unscathed. If only I face consequences for my actions, then I’m completely at his mercy.

Technically, it happened before my orientation day…

I’m snapped from my thoughts when all the cadets rise to their feet and start pairing up. Quickly, I scramble to my feet and find myself a partner. It’s a tall, broad-shouldered fae with a head full of curls and brown doe-like eyes.

“Hi,” I say. “I’m Phoenix.”

Her gaze drops to my neck and then flicks back up to my face.

“I heard you have to slice your own throat to pass your Decarios training in Wetra,” she says.

These fucking people…

“Yeah,” I deadpan. “Right after we drain a newborn baby dry and bathe in its blood.”

Startled, she blinks at me. Then bursts into laughter loud enough that it makes other cadets’ heads snap to our side.

I don’t dare glance at Daegel. A corner of my lips twitches up, and I widen my stance.

My opponent jerks her chin at me with a cocky smirk. “I’m Bloom. Let’s see what you got, princess.”

I open my mouth to protest the royalty claims, but Daegel’s voice booms around us.

“Engage in a fight with your opponent until first blood is drawn or you hear a gong. Whichever comes first,” he says.

I glance over my shoulder to see him pace behind us with his hands clasped behind his back.

Everything about him in this moment is tough, from the strong line of his shoulders to the tight set of his jaw.

“After, you switch to the opponent on your left and fight again. You may use everything at your disposal to help you win.”

I scoff internally. How much shit they give me for the barbarian ways of training Decarios in Wetra, and yet, here we fight here until first blood like savages.

A whistle pierces the air. There’s a moment of tense silence.

Then chaos erupts.

With a roar, Bloom charges at me. She’s taller and broader than me. And she has fae agility on her side. But I manage to move out of her way just in time before she levels me.

Right as I twist out of her way, I extend my leg and place my feet under hers. With a curse, she stumbles and almost kisses the stone underneath her feet.

I don’t have time to recover because she’s back on her feet in the blink of an eye. All Decarios are gifted with unnatural strength no matter our species. But we’re not equals.

When Bloom’s fist connects with my stomach, I almost hurl my breakfast on the floor. She fists the hair at the back of my neck and yanks my head backwards. I see the fist flying my way just in time to cross my forearms in an attempt to block.

Baring my teeth, I hold off her punch. The back of my head burns so bad, tears spring to my eyes. I blink them away and push against Bloom. I elbow her in the side, and her grip on my hair eases enough for me to rip away from her.

For a moment, we both pause. Panting, we glare at each other. The sounds of others fighting around us only fuels my rage further.

She advances towards me, fists swinging. I don’t wait for her to approach—I throw myself at her, ducking low. She doesn’t expect me to tackle her by the waist and lift her over my shoulder.

That’s the only reason I manage to throw her on the floor, landing right on top of her. Her lungs heave from the impact, and I use the moment she’s startled to get in a few punches.

My knuckles ache and burn. But I only stop when blood pours from her nose and she taps my thigh. Breathing heavily, I rise to my feet and offer her a hand. A peace offering.

She takes it, and I help her back up on her feet. The blood is all over her face and chest. But she doesn’t give a single fuck.

“You might be a princess, but you fight like a warrior,” she says with a bloody smile.

The moment I whip my head to the side, I have my next opponent to deal with.

I have to lift my chin pretty damn high to meet the unfriendly gaze of a larger-than-life man with a bald head.

He sneers at me, purple eyes flickering with hatred I haven’t earned. “Measly little human. Let me put you back in your place.”

Yeah, this one won’t go down as easy as Bloom. I reach for the blades strapped to both my thighs and wrap my hands tight around the carved iron handles. These two were a gift from Dad for my sixteenth birthday. My favorites.

With a short exhale, I advance. This asshole might be bigger than me and stronger, but I’m?—

He grabs me by the throat, his grip ironclad. I choke and let out a strangled sound when he raises his arm and my feet leave the ground.

One blade slips from my fingers, clattering to the floor. When my opponent doesn’t let go of me and black spots start to appear at the edges of my vision, I panic.

He’s trying to kill me.

A new wave of adrenaline surges through my veins. I kick my feet at his stomach, to no avail. His abs are hard as a rock. The second blade starts to slip from my grip, but I don’t let it fall. Holding the handle as tightly as I can, I lift my hand and slash at his exposed forearm horizontally.

I dig the dagger deep, slicing not only the vein but also the muscle. He seethes when his grip lightens, but he doesn’t let go.

“Not one to obey the rules, I see,” I croak.

With a free hand, I grab his forearm and dig my fingers into his open wound as hard as I can. That finally gets him to let go of me.

I land back on the ground with no grace. I’m too lightheaded from the lack of oxygen to catch myself, so I land on my knees. Panting, I rub my neck. Tomorrow, there’ll be a bruise.

Looking at the asshole through my lashes, I say, “Better luck next time.”

When, with one last snarl, he turns and goes off to torment someone else, I slowly pull myself back up to my feet. I look around for the next opponent to fight. Accidentally, I lock eyes with Daegel from across the room.

It’s hard to read the expression on his face. But his eyes are shooting daggers.

What did I do to piss him off?

With a scoff, I turn my back to him. Then Roman’s mischievous gaze greets me. With a quick glance over, I see he has no blood on him. No open wounds.

“I don’t want to fight you,” I say.

Roman has been the only decent fae to me here, so I don’t want to draw his blood. But I don’t want to let him win either.

He looks over at Daegel behind my shoulder. “I don’t think it’s up to us.”

I sigh.

Roman’s smirk turns into a smile. “Come on, princess. Show me how Wetran barbarians fight.”

“How original. Why don’t you show me how oh-so-mighty Ekiosh fae fight? Or are you all empty bravado and arrogance? So far, I’m not impressed.”

Roman chuckles. He holds no weapons. At least none I can see.

“That mouth of yours will get you in trouble here, princess.”

Before I can muster a response, Roman moves. One minute, he stands three feet away from me. The next, he’s right next to me. He winks and pokes me in the spot under my collarbone, right next to the shoulder.

I frown. When the pain erupts, shooting right through my shoulder and down my arm, I wince. My blade slips from my fingertips. I can’t help it. My whole arm is numb.

Oh, shit.

Shit, shit, shit.

When Roman sees the shock in my wide eyes, he barks an amused laugh. I rush backwards, away from him.

Now I see why he needs no weapons. He’s a damn weapon himself.

“Come on, Phoenix. I didn’t peg you for a coward,” he teases.

With amusement dancing in his gaze, he prowls towards me. I advance backwards, trying to put as much distance between us.

I’m saved by the grace of the gods. Just when Roman reaches me, the gong rings. My chest heaves with relief.

Roman flashes me a smile, whirls on his heel, and walks away. But my relief is short-lived, because the redhead with an attitude worse than mine steps in front of me.

Without taking my attention away from her, I flex my hand. It’s still numb, but the shooting pain has passed. “You know,” I say, “I wasn’t the one who killed your brother. You should direct that anger towards King Francis, not me.”

She narrows her eyes at me. I should have kept my mouth shut.

With a war cry, she pulls out a long sword from the sheath on her hip and charges at me. I only have one working hand.

Just fucking wonderful.

I pull out one of the smaller blades strapped to my leather corset. No way I can fight the sword with it. So, instead of parrying her blow, I duck low and evade her. I try to trip her with my foot just like I did with Bloom.

Second time around, the trick doesn’t work.

This redhead is smaller than Bloom and much more agile. Not as quick as Roman, but quick enough to turn around and attack me again without giving me much time to regroup.

She thrusts the sword against me, but I dodge the swing. The second time, the very tip almost catches my hip.

Almost.

I look around the floor, trying to locate my other blades. Once I see one of the daggers a few feet away, I march forwards. Just as my fingers wrap around the handle, the redhead slashes at the space between us.

Sparks fly in the air when our blades meet. There’s so much hatred in her gaze, it punches all the air out of my lungs. A scream tears out of her chest, and she retreats. Not for long. She swings her sword at me, her long hair flying in the air, and I once again block her.

This bitch.

We’re locked in this dance of fury until the gong rings again. The redhead is good about following the rules. She lowers the sword immediately and, without saying a word to me, walks away.

“Great job, cadets,” Daegel says. Everyone turns to him. “Now, everyone with an affinity to a weapon, line up outside.”

When one short fae man charges towards the open glass door that leads outside, Daegel arches an eyebrow and adds, “And don’t forget your chosen weapons.”

The determined fae does a sharp U-turn, his cheeks burning bright red.