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As soon as I finish hastily securing the wraps around my knees, I’m yanking my pant legs down and sprinting out of the room.
Xaden is going to be such an asshole to me for being late. But my joints have been so damn wobbly all day today, wrapping my knees was essential, no matter how much of a rush job it was. Even with the added support, my right knee threatens to slip out of place as I spin around a corner.
And then I screech to an almost halt, slowing my pace to a brisk walk when I spy my mother striding in my direction down the hall with another rider I vaguely recognize. She casts me a disdaining look, as though I’m horribly embarrassing her for running in the hall.
“General Sorrengail,” I say formally, nodding my head respectfully as I pass her.
“Cadet Sorrengail,” she says coldly. “Do make sure that you don’t run into anyone while you go crashing down the hallways. Where are you in such a rush to?”
I try to slow my breath so I can respond without panting. “Sparring practice.” With Xaden. Not telling her that part though.
She nods in approval. “Finally doing something productive with your free time,” and my stupid heart starts to swell with the hint of her approval. “Do try to uphold the family name, would you?” she says, dismissing me. Well, that feeling was short-lived.
I glower down the hall, picking up my pace again once she’s around the corner behind me. As if I wasn’t being productive when I spent hours studying in the Archives for the past several years. It would have been extremely productive if she hadn’t changed the plan six months before Conscription Day. Then I would’ve been sitting in the Archives reading right now, rather than sprinting through hallways, pushing my sore body to the limit, just to meet my personal tormentor—sorry, trainer.
Between my aching joints and the run-in with my mother, I am unsurprisingly still in a pissed off mood when I jog the last hallway a few minutes later and push open the door to the gym. I try to slow my breathing and my heart rate as I take a few steps over to him.
“You’re late, Sorrengail,” Xaden greets me, standing with his arms crossed.
“Fuck off, Xaden.” Damn it, I still sound breathless.
He raises his eyebrows and smirks. “You do realize I have many important things to do besides train you, right?”
“This was your idea, remember?” I fire back, bending down to check that the wraps on my knees are still in place. “Feel free to go attend to your important to-do list, don’t let me keep you.”
“That’s no way to thank your wingleader.”
I roll my eyes as I straighten up. “I’ll say thank you when I’m desperate. Or when you’re offering a far greater reward.” I feel the heat rise in my cheeks as I think back to our explosive night together, but I keep my chin up and eyes locked on him.
Xaden’s eyes flicker to my lips for a moment, and I know my words brought back the memory for him too. The rest of his mask is firmly set in place though, revealing only annoyance.
“Most people would consider learning to defend yourself against attacks on your life to be a sufficient enough award, particularly when the best fighter in the quadrant is the one volunteering his time to train you.” Arrogant prick. Xaden cocks his head at me as he steps closer. “But you’ve never been like most people. So how about remembering that in learning to defend your own life, you also save my life?”
I raise an eyebrow at him. I’m not giving this man the satisfaction of knowing how much I do care about his life, when he won’t admit to having any feelings for me at all.
“And Sgaeyl’s life,” he continues softly, with another step towards me.
He pauses, leaning into my space. “And Tairn’s life.” He’s whispering, close enough to me that I can feel his breath hitting my cheek, and damn if that doesn’t turn me on.
I grind my teeth together and push past him. “Are we here to spar or here to chat? Because I had a shit day and I’ve got a lot of steam to blow off, so unless you’re suggesting something else…” Xaden wouldn’t tolerate anyone else talking to him like this, but I couldn’t care less.
Xaden doesn’t respond, but I feel him following behind me as I head to our usual mat in the far corner of the gym. My eyes sweep the gym for the first time, registering that there are a pair of third years and two pairs of first years sparring already.
I take one step onto the mat, only to promptly have my legs kicked out from under me. I fall sideways onto my hip, and reach my arm out to catch myself. But of course Xaden is faster, grabbing my wrist before my hand reaches the ground to pull my arm behind my back, the other hand gently wrapping around me to slow the impact, putting me on my stomach on the mat.
“You got him all worked up, you really should have seen that coming,” remarks Tairn.
“Asshole,” I mutter to both of them, sealing my shields into place. I don’t need Tairn’s commentary while I’m sparring.
“I don’t know who or what pissed you off today, Violence,” Xaden says quietly in my ear. “But if you need to blow off steam with a sparring match? I can handle it.”
He pushes himself up a couple inches and lets go of my arm. I manage to roll myself onto my back and glare up at him.
The man just smirks down at me. “No daggers today.”
“I thought defenseless women weren’t your type.”
He scoffs. “I’ve been training you for weeks now, you’re hardly defenseless.” Does that mean…I am his type? Before I can dissect his comment further for what he may be admitting, he continues.
“We’re doing hand-to-hand combat today.” He glances slowly down my body, to the sheaths he knows are hidden. I do my best to hide the shiver that runs through my body under his gaze. “Can I trust you to keep the daggers away, or do you need to disarm?”
I scowl at him in answer.
His lip twitches and he rises to his feet. “Good.” He stretches out his hand to me.
I ignore it. As I stand up, I notice that the twinge on my right knee has gotten worse since I fell. Lovely. “What was the point in giving me daggers if I can’t use them?” I complain.
“The point is,” he snarks in a mocking tone, “That there are some battles where those daggers will be your best weapon, and other battles where the circumstances are such that your daggers will be useless. The Rider’s Quadrant is about more than winning challenges while you’re here, Violence. It’s about staying alive after you graduate too.”
I sigh and prepare myself for sparring, careful to place most of my weight on my left leg.
Thirty minutes later, my body is utterly exhausted. He put me through our warm up paces, but at a more vigorous speed than usual in clear retaliation for my tardiness and my attitude. We’ve spent the last ten minutes working on a new kick move to disarm an opponent. Ironic, since we’re training without weapons today.
“Let’s try it on the other leg,” Xaden suggests again.
“No,” I say stubbornly. “I want to master this side first.” My right leg may be shaky to stand on, but it doesn’t stand a chance at staying in place if it’s kicking and making impact.
“Violence, you’re wobbling all over the place. You need a more stable base leg,” he tells me. Yeah, no shit. Let me know if anyone has a pair of knees they’re willing to trade. “Unless there’s a different problem you want to tell me about?” He asks, raising a brow.
I shake my head. I refuse to admit weakness to him.
Xaden narrows his eyes. “Then go again,” he challenges, raising his hand out to where I’m supposed to be kicking.
I finally manage to land a decent kick on his hand, but my right knee subluxates under me. I gasp in pain, falling at a weird angle when my stomach collides with a brick wall out of nowhere, possibly knocking a rib out of place.
“Shit!” Xaden curses as I let out some kind of gasp, collapsing to the mat. Some part of me registers that the brick wall was Xaden’s arm trying to catch me. “Violence?”
I squeeze my eyes shut, gasping against the pain. Which, of course, only makes my rib hurt more. Definitely subluxated, then. I work to slowly pack the pain away, focusing on calming my breath down.
“Are you okay?” Andarna’s voice cries out.
“No, but she will be,” Tairn responds. “The same cannot be said for the wingleader when I’m through with him.”
“Accident,” I tell Tairn. He huffs in response. A small part of my brain registers that my shields are down, but I’m in too much pain to put them back up right now.
“Can you make it to the healers if I carry you, or should I send—” Xaden says.
“No.” I respond using the mental connection too, it’s easier than speaking out loud.
“Violence—”
“I just. Need. A minute.” I respond haltingly, even in my mental speech.
“Your knee—” he tries again.
“One. Minute.”
After my minute, I slowly open my eyes. Xaden’s face is right in front of me, looking pale and concerned.
He composes his expression quickly, though his face is still pallid. “Your knee is out of place, and I felt a pop when I tried to catch you.”
I nod. “Rib,” I confirm, grimacing as I let him guide me into a sitting position. I look down to assess my knee. It’s only partially out of place, it would hurt way worse if it had fully dislocated. I decide to tackle the rib first, which will then make reaching my knee less difficult.
“What do you need?” Xaden asks, roughly running his hand through his hair.
I lift my hand to my rib, and quickly realize I won’t be able to pop it back in with my armor in place. Honestly, I’m impressed that Xaden managed to pop the rib out while I’m wearing the armor in the first place. If only it didn’t hurt so fucking bad.
“I need you to. Take off my armor. So I can pop it. Back in,” I admit. My rib would scream more if I contort my body to take off the armor myself.
He nods, looking relieved to have a task to do, and moves behind me. My eyes close as his gentle fingers carefully work to untie me. There’s an odd silence in the air. It strikes me that I think Xaden is actually worried about me, and possibly even guilty about hurting me?
“You know, there are. Easier ways to see me. With my armor off,” I joke, trying to lighten the tension. It’s easier to breathe with the loosened armor.
I hear his sharp inhale, and his fingers pause for a moment before continuing to untie me. We sit in silence for three more heartbeats as he ignores my comment.
“Stop me if I’m hurting you,” he cautions tensely as he maneuvers the armor away.
I start slowly massaging the subluxated rub, willing the muscles around it to relax. I feel his eyes watching me, even though mine are still closed while I focus, what I’m sure is a grimace on my face.
“Violence, are you honestly making sex jokes when I just fucking dislocated your rib and knee?” His mental voice is strained.
I mentally count my breaths in time with the slow circles, Andarna counting along with me. Then I press down on the rib while adjusting my chest position simultaneously to allow the rib to pop back into place.
A grunt of pain escapes me, which is instantly followed by Xaden exclaiming, “Fuck!”
I open my eyes to look at him, blanching at me. “Why do you even know how to do that?”
I give a small shrug, noting that the sharp pain in my rib has already turned into a dull ache, almost gone from my brain as the knee pain takes center stage. I shove the pain back into a box. “Happens once or twice. A year,” I grit out, reaching for my knee and assessing the damage through my pants and the wraps.
“Fucking hell, Sorrengail.” Xaden pushes his hand through his hair again, then rises to his feet. The movement reminds me that we’re in a gym with other people. I look around and notice the heavy layer of shadow that is surrounding us. That certainly wasn’t there before I fell. It looks like there's only one other pair still sparring, but I can’t tell who it is through the shadows.
Before I can comment on the shadows, Xaden is reaching for me.
“What are you doing?” I furrow my brow.
He stares at me for a moment in confusion. “You put the rib back in, now I’m taking you to the healers for your knee. We can even see if Nolon is there.”
I shake my head. “It’s barely out. Not worth it.”
“You’re going to pop it back in yourself, aren’t you?” He sighs, watching as I massage the area.
“You only get credit for the rib,” I inform him, not bothering to confirm his words. Even with the rib popped back in, I realize reaching my ankles still seems impossible. “I need you to roll the pant leg up.”
Xaden wordlessly pulls it up, ever so careful going over my knee.
“It popped out of place even being wrapped?” He notes, pursing his lips at the sight of my kneecap while he unwinds the wrap.
“Would’ve been worse if it wasn’t. This is just subluxated, not dislocated.”
He sits back with an unreadable expression while I resume massaging the area around my knee to calm the muscles down. Then I squeeze my eyes shut before I can think more about what I’m going to do, and push the kneecap back into place with an audible pop.
A whimper and hiss come out of my lips, despite my best efforts to stay silent. A couple unbidden tears roll down my cheeks that I swipe at furiously.
“You’re doing great, Violet,” says Andarna. I feel Tairn rumble in agreement.
A warm hand gives soothing circles on my back. I crack my eyes open. Xaden Riorson, comforting me, a lowly cadet? I love that I’m the only one who gets to see this side of him. Which he’s making sure of, as the shadows surrounding us have thickened.
“Thank you,” I finally offer the words I had refused him earlier.
“For what?”
“Your help. The privacy of the shadows. Not saying I’m weak. Training me. Take your pick.”
Xaden’s lips quirk into a half smile for a moment before resuming his serious expression. “Nobody could watch you pop your own body parts back into place and think you’re weak. Far from it. But you’re welcome for the training, Violence.”
There’s a brief pause, during which I continue massaging around my knee and burying the pain down deep. Then he continues, “You know, most people don’t say thank you after somebody breaks their body.”
“Good thing we already ascertained that I’m not most people,” I quip.
After a few minutes of rest and getting laced back into my armor, Xaden helps me slowly make my way back to my room, only speaking when he makes repeated offers to carry me and I continue rejecting them. Tairn chimed in a few times as well, telling me off for being such a stubborn human.
“You were the one threatening to harm him minutes ago,” I remind Tairn, annoyed.
“You can still accept help to get back to your room and rest when you are injured, Silver One. That doesn’t prevent me from dealing with him later.”
When we turn the corner into my hall, I sigh.
“Finally,” I breathe. My entire body is trembling, I can’t wait to collapse in bed. I can’t take too deep of breaths without my rib screaming at me, and my knee threatens to give out again even with Xaden supporting the majority of my weight.
“We could’ve been here ages ago if you’d just let me carry you,” he mutters.
I roll my eyes and trudge down the hall to my door, his arm gingerly around my waist, mine hooked up on his shoulder.
“What did you mean, I only get credit for the rib?” He asks suddenly while plucking my key from my fingers and unlocking my door for me.
I wait to answer until I’m seated on the edge of my bed and can relax my body a little bit. Xaden follows me into the room, the door clicking closed behind him.
“My knees were slippery and trying to subluxate all day. It was only a matter of time,” I tell him, leaving out a few other joints that were being problematic too.
His eyes flare. “Violence, you knew your joints were already weak today and you didn’t tell me before fucking sparring practice?”
“I wasn’t aware that you required a daily list of my various ailments, in addition to the updates on my daily routine you get from Liam,” I snap. “I took the time to re-wrap my knees before sparring, that’s why I was late.”
I bend down to unlace my boots, and gasp when the quick movement jolts my rib.
“For fuck’s sake,” he sighs, kneeling on the floor and pulling my boot onto his knee. He focuses harder on my boot than he needs to, avoiding looking at me. Which is good, because my pulse is racing from the sight of him kneeling in front of me. My cheeks must be pink, even though being attracted to this man is definitely not what I should be thinking about right now.
“You need—I need you to tell me when your body parts are acting up. I don’t need a daily report,” he mimics. “But I need to know on days like today when they’re slipping and sliding.”
“Because you’ll cancel sparring practice? You can’t cancel a real war because my joints are feeling slippery, Xaden.” I start undoing my hair from its braided crown, to lessen the headache I’ve had all day.
He switches to the right boot, gingerly lifting that leg. “No, because then we can figure out fighting strategies that will work in a real war when your joints are…slippery. You’re no help in a battle if your knee gets dislocated. Your opponent would’ve taken you down when you were gasping on the floor. But there are different techniques we can work out.”
I huff out a sigh, smaller than I wish it could be because I don’t want to hurt my rib. “Fine, that’s a fair point.” He finally raises his gaze to mine, gently lowering my socked foot from his knee to the floor. “I’ll tell you on a need-to-know basis. But it’s not my fault if you don’t like knowing that my body falls apart more often than not,” I caution, running my fingers through my hair.
His eyes follow my fingers, something in his gaze faltering for a moment. He rises to his feet and clears his throat, shifting his eyes back to mine. “Thank you.”
“Xaden Riorson, thanking me? Maybe I should get hurt more often.”
“How about not,” he says, swooping one arm under my legs and one behind my back, quickly settling me against my pillows.
“Thank you,” I say, somewhat begrudgingly as he slides his arm out from under my legs.
“Twice in a day from you, must be some kind of record,” he quips. His hand slid up to rest on the back of my neck, his face inches away from mine as he leans on the bed next to me.
“I didn’t realize we were keeping score,” I breathe out.
His gaze drops to my lips. “Somehow it seems like the two of us are always keeping score.” His eyes move to my hair. He presses his teeth down on his bottom lip before exhaling, “Fuck.”
The back of my neck tingles in the cold air left behind from the loss of his hand as he quickly retreats a few steps across the room.
“Scared of me?” I joke.
He shakes his head as though to clear it. “Not for the reasons you think.”
Interesting. “Ready to share any other feelings about our relationship today?”
Xaden immediately stiffens. “We are not in a relationship.”
“I didn’t say we’re in a relationship, just that we have a relationship,” I inform him. His jaw ticks.
“For example, I have a relationship with Liam, but we’re not in a relationship either,” I continue, purposely picking Liam just to further irritate the man who seemingly lives to frustrate me.
Xaden glares at me. “For fucks sake, just keep your knee elevated. See if Gamlin can give you some ice for it. Don’t forget our next sparring practice on Friday,” he orders as he strides towards the door.
“How could I forget after today’s memorable session,” I toss after him.
He’s already pulling the door shut as he steps into the hallway when he hesitates and leans back in. “And Violence? I am sorry about the injuries. It’s never my intention to harm you.”
As the door clicks closed, the pain of my rib and knee quickly resume their place in the front of my mind.
Damnit. I miss my distraction already. Not that I’ll ever admit it to anyone besides myself.
***
I jerk awake to a knock at the door. A glance at the clock tells me I napped right through dinner; it’s already dark outside the window.
“Violet? I hate to ask, but can you come let me in?” Liam’s gentle voice floats through the door. My heart sinks a little, and I curse myself for hoping it was a different marked one at the door.
“Coming,” I call, gingerly pushing myself up off the pillows.
“No rush,” Liam’s voice cautions through the door. I slowly make my way off the bed and across the room.
“Hey, Liam,” I say, leaning heavily on the doorframe while he carries a tray with a covered plate into the room. “What’s all this?”
Liam gives me a small smile while his eyes scan my body. Because fucking of course he already knows about my injuries. “Xaden told me about sparring,” he says apologetically. “Thought you might be hungry. How do you feel? Anything I can get for you?”
“Just sore,” I admit. “Not much to do for it but giving it time. At least it’s the weekend, so no classes tomorrow. You didn’t have to bring all this,” I tell Liam, looking at the spread as I settle myself into the chair at my desk where he set the tray. Soup, bread, crackers, a turkey sandwich, and a bowl of fruit.
“It’s no problem,” says Liam. “Besides, it was a group effort.” He flashes me a quick grin as he drops a bag of ice next to the tray. “Want some company?”
“No, you don’t have to stay. Really,” I insist when I can see he’s about to protest. “I just want to eat and then fall straight back to sleep. You know nobody is getting past the wards. Go enjoy a night off, you’ve more than earned it.”
“Well, if you’re sure,” he hesitates, and I nod encouragingly, waving him out the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Vi,” he promises, tugging the door closed behind him.
I’m not particularly hungry, but I push myself to eat a few bites of bread dipped in the soup, and eat the strawberries out of the fruit bowl. Then I notice a small dish still covered at the back corner of the tray. A smile comes unbidden to my face as I lift the lid.
Chocolate cake.
I scoop a bite into my mouth. It is delicious. I’ve never even seen chocolate cake in the dining hall before.
“Thank you for the cake.”
“I wasn’t sure what your favorite food was, so I decided to send you mine.”
“Very thoughtful,” I compliment him.
“You’re welcome. Good night, Violence.”
You don’t go through the effort of finding chocolate cake in a damn war college for just anyone. Like fuck he doesn’t have feelings for me, too.
I just wish I knew how to get him to admit it.