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I watch as Aaric takes quick steps across the parapet, not an ounce of doubt or hesitation obvious in his stance. I envy that. He said we’d both make it across, and I have no doubt he will. I’m not so sure about myself.
Then again, would it be so bad if this is how I go?
Ever since I learned of Liam’s death, most of my dreams have been about falling off the parapet. Half the time I wake up relieved that it was a dream. But I’m ashamed to admit even to myself that there have been an equal amount of times when I’ve been disappointed that I do wake up.
I shake my head, trying to rid myself of that thought. I approach the two women ahead of me, their heads close together as they have a whispered conversation.
The dark-skinned one finally looks up and beckons me over. “Name?”
I try not to let my voice sound as nervous as I feel. “Sloane Mairi.”
The woman stiffens, and the one next to her whips her head in my direction. I notice that the incredibly handsome guy standing off to the side is looking at me, too.
Shit, is it just because of my rebellion relic? Because this reaction is getting old real fast.
Since none of them have spoken or even moved, I decide to hurry this along. “With an ‘e’ on the end.”
My nerves are getting the better of me and if I don’t get on the parapet soon I have a feeling I’ll just turn around and run back down the steps, conscription be damned. So I move toward the thin stone wall, tucking my hair behind my ears in an effort to stop the wind from whipping it in my face.
“Stop,” the smaller woman cries out. She jumps off the wall, then yanks something out of her uniform pocket and hands it to me. I look down and see that it’s a small leather band.
I blink, then look back at her. Is she…trying to help me? Why?
“Vi—“ the hot guy in the corner starts.
But the woman in front of me looks over her shoulder and glares at him. I can tell she’s mad, mainly because she’s shaking in rage. “Don’t you dare say another word, or I’ll blast you off this turret, Aetos.”
Aetos. As in, Colonel Aetos?
I glance over at him just as a crack of lightning shoots across the sky. He leans back against the stone wall, muttering to himself as he does so.
If that is Aetos’s son, I should hate him. I do hate him. And yet, there’s something about the way he’s standing there, his sharp jaw tight with irritation, that makes my stomach twist in a way that has nothing to do with anger.
Gods, he’s attractive. It’s infuriating.
Just because I hate him doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy looking at him, right?
No, I tell myself firmly. That’s exactly what it means. Hating someone means you don’t enjoy looking at them, no matter how much your traitorous brain wants to catalog the curve of their mouth.
I shake my head. Focus, Sloane. Survive first. Then hate him later.
I’m still not sure what to think when I turn back to the woman offering me the hair tie. If she’s snapping at Aetos’s son, maybe she’s not fond of Navarrian command? She’s helping me, so clearly she doesn’t hate marked ones. My foster parents intentionally kept me out of the loop on politics by keeping me busy with bullshit lessons in etiquette and needlework, but I’ve been staying sane imagining that there are people sympathetic to what happened in Aretia. Is that what’s happening here?
These are the thoughts running through my head as I take the band and braid my hair.
She’s so small that I have to look down at her as she starts to speak. “Arms out for balance. Don’t let the wind sway your steps. Keep your eyes on the stones ahead of you and don’t look down. If the pack slips, ditch it. Better you lose it than your life.”
Except losing my life wouldn’t be the worst thing that happened to me. If this woman only knew how much I’d already lost, maybe she wouldn’t…
Wait. Oh, fuck. No way. Is she doing this because she knows how much I’ve lost?
I take a better look at her. Her hair: dark with a silver streak. The patches on her uniform: one clearly shows that she’s in Fourth Wing, and it has a bolt of lightning on it. It doesn’t take me long to realize who she is.
“You’re Violet Sorrengail.”
She nods but doesn’t say anything else.
Fuck. This. And fuck her.
As if giving me tips to cross the parapet will make up for the fact that I’m now utterly alone in this godsforsaken world. Her mother is the reason my parents are dead, and she’s the reason Liam is dead.
Liam was the only thing that kept me going for years, and Violet fucking Sorrengail took him away from me. I’d rather she just push me over the parapet right now than help me.
I would love nothing more than to scream at her or fight her, but the mental fog of anger isn’t thick enough to make me forget that would be a bad idea. So instead, I lean down, unduly pleased that I’m so much bigger than her. I say so that only she can hear, “I know what really happened. You got my brother killed. He died for you.”
Xaden’s letter had arrived shortly after the official notice. It was so short, almost shorter than the one from Navarre. I had barely had time to process the fact that Liam had died in the Rider’s Quadrant before I found out that, actually, he had died to save someone who wasn’t even worthy of it.
Violet is pale now, her voice shaking as she says, “Yes. I’m so sorry—“
“Go straight to hell,” I spit out. “And I really mean that. I hope no one commends your soul to Malek. I hope he rejects it. Liam was worth a dozen of your kind, and I hope you spend eternity paying for what you cost me, what you cost all of us.”
My chest is heaving when I finish. I don’t even feel guilty about the heartbroken look on her face. There’s no way she feels as empty as I do. She still has her mother, her sister. By now she even knows that her dead brother isn’t even actually fucking dead.
Lucky her.
Violet gets a hold of herself pretty quickly and steps aside. She says, “Feel free to hate me. Just do me a favor and put your fucking arms out so you don’t see Liam before I do. Do it for him. Not for me.”
Hearing Liam’s name come out of her mouth makes me even angrier. I can’t even look at her anymore, unless I want to give in to the urge to punch her in the face, so I jerk my gaze away and focus on the parapet.
I step up, and it doesn’t take me long to realize that crossing this tiny strip of stone will probably be harder in the mood I’m now in. I can barely think straight, let alone walk straight. So I close my eyes and take a few deep breaths in and out to calm myself down a bit.
Damn if I don't instinctively want to raise my arms. But there’s no way I’m going to do what Violet told me to do. I’d rather fall to my death.
Or so I think, until a strong gust of wind has me wobbling before I’ve even taken my first step.
I’m actually surprised that I automatically go into survival mode. I’ve raised my arms and taken a few steps before I realize what I've done. Guess the dreams about falling to my death aren’t the ones my subconscious wants to follow through on today. It’s not like I can stop walking, and this definitely is easier to do if my arms are straight out.
I don’t want to think about the smug look on Violet’s face, so I distract myself by looking at Aaric’s broad shoulders ahead of me. He’s almost all the way to the other side now. So much faster than me. I want to speed up so I can get this over with, but I also don’t think it’s physically possible for me to go any quicker than I already am.
Even though my body clearly wants me to make it across, because it's moving, it’s not doing me any favors when it comes to actually doing the damn thing well. My heart is racing, I’m having trouble breathing, I’m sweating. Plus my mind is playing tricks on me. Is the distance growing? It feels like the parapet extends by five feet for every one step I take.
I start shaking, which is fine when it’s just my arms. But it only takes a few seconds before the tremors are radiating down through my chest, into my legs, and finally to my feet. I do my best to keep my muscles locked and steady but it’s not helping. My legs are now vibrating so hard that it’s making planting my feet in front of me impossible.
So impossible, in fact, that I can’t even do it on my next step. My foot is on air rather than the hard granite it should be. I find myself falling forward, not towards the parapet but directly into the ravine below it. I can practically see myself mangled at the bottom.
But in a split second I’ve somehow managed to twist my body so that my knee slams into the small sliver of the narrow bridge. I maneuver my arms so that I can grasp the rock in front of my knee. Every point of contact with the parapet hurts like hell, but I force myself to ignore the pain as I shift my body back to center. I grit my teeth as I move, certain that I’ll have massive scratches on my knees and palms after this.
I’ve made it, though, crouching on the parapet and squeezing it like a lifeline. Which it is. I don’t stand, but I look up to see how much farther I have.
Fuck, I still have halfway to go.
I groan and squeeze my eyes shut, my chin falling to my chest. I’d give anything to just stay like this for a few minutes longer, but I know letting the person behind me catch up probably isn’t in my best interest. I didn’t talk to them in line, but I’ve mentally prepared myself for the fact that nine out of ten people in the quadrant probably want me dead.
Too bad Aaric wasn’t behind me instead of in front of me. He probably would have let me take a breather.
Something makes me look up again. Aaric is across now, but he hasn’t stepped away into the courtyard yet. In fact, he’s staring straight at me. I’m not sure why. He was certain we would both make it when we were on the stairs, but has he changed his mind now that he’s seen me almost fall? He’s far enough away that I can’t quite see his eyes, but I can feel them boring into me. I can tell it’s his way of urging me on, and for some reason that gives me the push I need.
I scramble to my feet again, and I’m sure I don’t look at all graceful while doing it. I snort to myself as I remember all the stupid dance lessons I’ve been forced by my foster family to take over the last few years. Somehow I doubt that gliding is the way to go here.
Or…maybe it is?
Isn’t this just the sort of situation my foster sister Ulrika dreamed about? Striding across a crowded ballroom towards a handsome suitor who would sweep her off her feet. Ugh, just thinking about it makes my stomach churn. But if I channel those lessons, ignore the fact that I’m however many feet above the ground, and just walk as if I’m the lady I could never quite pull off, maybe my body will be a little less anxious.
So I do just that. I close my eyes, take a deep breath, then open them again. I ignore everything around me and focus on Aaric. I straighten my spine, roll my shoulders down and back like my tutor was always drilling into me, and with my head held high and continue walking the parapet. My arms are out again, and while that’s not how I would walk in a ballroom, it’s what’s necessary here.
Imagining the walk this way is calming me down a bit, at least, and I’m no longer shaking as forcefully. I don’t look away from Aaric and he doesn’t look away from me for the rest of the walk. Finally, finally, I reach the portion of the parapet that’s secure on both sides by the walls of the turret. Only then does Aaric give me a brief, barely noticeable nod and turn away. He’s disappeared into the crowd of new cadets by the time I jump into the courtyard and give the bored rider taking names on this side my name.
Now that I’ve made it, I’m not quite sure what to do. Cadets are naturally falling into groups as they size each other up and decide who’s worth their time to buddy up with. I’m in no way interested in talking with anyone right now, not even the marked ones. I see two of the other marked first-years in the corner, and they look at me as if they’re expecting me to come over. Instead, I turn on my heel and walk in the opposite direction.
My fear has been replaced with anger again. Because as soon as I started looking around the courtyard, I realized that I was doing it purposefully.
I’ve been looking for Liam.
It’s what I’ve been looking forward to for an entire year. Liam wasn’t able to send me any letters as a first year, but I got small updates throughout the year from Xaden, Bodhi, and even Imogen to assure me that he was alive and doing well. I both dreaded and yearned for those letters. I wanted to know everything I could, but I was always afraid that the news would be bad.
As the months passed and Liam survived, I let myself imagine seeing him again. The blue eyes that would mirror mine, the huge grin that would overtake his face, how he would sweep me into his arms so tightly and for so long that I’d have to yell at him to put me down. I’d act embarrassed, telling him how he shouldn’t make me look so weak in front of everyone, but he’d tell me he’d just beat up anyone who tried to call me anything but a badass.
Gods, I’m starting to tear up. I definitely can’t let anyone see that. So I walk further away from the crowd, keeping my head down. I find an alcove in the wall, where no one can see me but I can see anyone who might approach me. I sag against the wall and shut my eyes, willing the tears to just stay back. But they don’t, and I slide down to the ground as I finally give in to the overwhelming emotions I’ve been shoving deep down since I learned that I’ll never see my brother again.
I don’t know how much time passes, but I allow myself this breakdown since most people are too busy to worry about anything but themselves right now. I have no concern about anyone catching me crying and thinking I’m weak thanks to this little hiding place. That, and the fact that I would have no problem punching someone while still letting my tears fall.
Although, to be honest, I know I’m much less prepared than I should be for this death college, seeing as how I’ve been living with a family that brushes shoulders more with politicians than fighters. I’ve been trying to learn what I can from books or watching village boys fight during market days, but my practical experience is nonexistent.
Guess I’m about to get that real quick.
These are where my thoughts have turned by the time I notice that people are starting to assemble into more organized groups. No more crying, at least. Still, I wipe my face to get rid of any lingering tears. I also pinch my cheeks and pat my chin and forehead a bit in the hopes that even if my eyes are red and puffy, maybe if my entire face is the same people will just think I’m flushed from adrenaline.
“Galen Strycker.” I see a woman with daggers strapped to her upper arms on a dais, calling out across the courtyard. “Second Squad, Flame Section, Second Wing.”
I see a stocky guy stride over to what I’m assuming is where he was just assigned. I glance around, trying to pinpoint squads where I know people and ones where I don’t. I can’t decide which I would prefer. It would be good to have a fresh start, I guess. Then again, being surrounded by people who know nothing about my past is what I’ve lived with for the past six years and it’s driven me crazy.
“Sloane Mairi,” the woman interrupts my musings. “Second Squad, Tail Section, First Wing.”
I walk quickly to that area, keeping my head held high despite the way I see people glancing at my mark. My new squadmates don’t look any less skeptical of having me with them. I make sure to look all of them directly in the eye, making sure they know how few fucks I give what they think of me, and then settle into my row.
I notice Aetos’s son step forward on the dais, because to my annoyance my eyes track right to him as soon as I’m in my squad. He talks to a woman with daggers strapped to her upper arms, then the woman nods. I watch as Aetos crosses over to the roll-keeper, narrowing my eyes in part because I don’t trust him, but also because I can’t help but notice how good he looks in his uniform.
The roll-keeper scribbles something on the roll she is holding, then calls out, “Correction! Sloane Mairi to Second Squad, Flame Section, Fourth Wing.”
I frown. As if walking across the courtyard with my mark once wasn’t bad enough, now Aetos wants me to do it again? Is this some odd sort of punishment? Parade the traitor’s daughter around for maximum embarrassment?
One of the people behind me shoves me. I don’t have much choice but to weave through the lines of this squad and head towards my new one.
I have time to assess my new squadmates as I approach. There’s a woman with a burn scar all across the right side of her face. A brunette girl, a red haired one. One guy with a square jaw.
Aaric.
He’s standing with perfect posture, head down. I slow, and once again we seem to be drawn like magnets because his head shoots up and we lock eyes. Both of us are quick to look away, though, him ducking his head back down and me glancing to the row behind him.
Right to the light hazel eyes looking right at me.
I stop in my tracks and say, “No. I refuse. Any squad but this one.”
The woman who was sitting next to Violet before the parapet steps forward, glaring at me. “Does it look like I give a shit what you want, Mairi?”
“Mairi?” the freckled guy who was standing next to her looks back at Violet.
“Liam’s sister,” Violet explains. The guy’s jaw slackens.
Shit, so that’s already starting. I’ve escaped it while being fostered, but that’s what my life was like up until then. Not Sloane. Never Sloane. Always Liam’s little sister.
Another guy with floppy hair standing next to Violet says something I can’t hear and looks between her and me. She responds, so I’m sure it’s just another variation of “Oh, so that’s who that is.” I’m still just standing here and everyone is just talking about my relationship to Liam, and all I can think about is the fact that I don’t even get a relationship with Liam anymore and it’s all her fault and…
“I cannot be in the same squad as her!” I yell. I can’t control myself, even though I know this isn’t a good first impression. I hate her, and there’s no way in hell I’m going to be stuck so close to her for the rest of my time here.
“Stop disrespecting your squad leader and get in formation, Sloane,” a familiar voice calls out. “You’re acting like a spoiled aristocrat.”
I see a flash of pink hair behind Violet, and I do a double take. I look closer and say, “Imogen?” I haven’t heard from her since she wrote to me after Liam’s Threshing. She let me know that he bonded a dragon. There were a few words about Lillith Sorrengail’s daughter, too, none of them very friendly.
Their squad leader - my squad leader, I guess - has clearly had enough of me. “Get. In. Formation. I’m not asking, cadet.”
Okay, yeah, she could beat my ass. And she looks like she’s about to. I glance at Imogen, who clearly thinks I’m being ridiculous. But doesn’t she hate Violet, too? She’s really okay with being in the same squad as the daughter of the woman who killed our parents?
There’s a small movement in the row ahead of me. It’s Aaric, and he’s not being shy about looking at me this time. He looks curious, and for some reason that’s what finally makes me move into place next to the girl with the burn on her face. If only to stop him from staring at me, as if he’s trying to figure me out.
I don’t want him to figure me out. I don’t want anyone to figure me out.