Kristine motioned to Thomas and Hugo to help Evan to his feet, “That was uncalled for! We were trying to warn you away from her. Ubel and Selene won’t take kindly to what just happened here.” They left, headed to the infirmary, I was sure.
“I truly appreciate you defending me, but you’ve put a target on your back now. Believe me when I say that you don’t want Selene or Ubel’s attention.” I stood and picked up my plate.
He stared at me for a few minutes. “That was more about asserting my dominance over them than anything else. Don’t take it to mean more than that.” He turned and walked away.
Well, fuck you very much. I frowned at his back as he walked away. Now I was glad he avoided my touch because we were definitely on the same page. I didn’t need any more obstinate bastards to deal with. My Faction was bursting at the seams with men that filled that position.
Razor met me as I approached the armory to get my short swords. “I’m glad to see you here. You have a battle tomorrow, and so far I haven’t been able to find out who or what you’ll be fighting.”
“I know that it’s probably going to be my toughest battle yet. Selene wasn’t happy with me, and even after her punishment, I’m sure there will be consequences in the coliseum too.”
He leaned in closer. “I’m so sorry I haven’t been able to help you more. Just know if the opportunity presents itself, I’ll get you out of here.”
I touched his arm. “I don’t want you to help at the risk of something happening to your Faction. You’ve been a real friend and ally, and I truly appreciate it.”
Razor let out a small cry of distress and wavered on his feet. He dropped his head and took several deep breaths, then grabbed my arm and led me deep into the armory. “What the hell was that?” He asked as he undid his shirt to examine his shoulder.
I gasped when I saw a mark on his arm: the tree of life inside a perfect circle, just like Chloe’s and Oliver's.
“I’m so sorry! I didn’t do it on purpose.” I honestly didn’t know how or why this was happening.
Razor looked from his shoulder to me in shock, “Do you know what this is?”
I shook my head, “No.”
“Has this happened before?”
I nodded, “Yes.”
“Can you give more than a one-word answer?” He asked, seeming annoyed and amused all at once.
“Right. Before Kristine pulled me here, it happened to two of my closest friends after I touched them.” I couldn’t tear my eyes away from his shoulder.
Razor stared at me in amazement. “This was a mark given centuries ago by Queen Lilibet to mark her Aegisworn.”
Lilibet again —this was starting to freak me out a little. Then my eyes widened. “Someone in a dream I had recently used that word in reference to a friend.”
“Who?” He led me further back into the building when Aurathions began entering to grab weapons.
I really didn’t want to answer him or say it out loud, but I knew I could trust him, and the mark reinforced that feeling. “Queen Lilibet.”
“Fuck.” He bowed his head for a moment and took several deep breaths. “I’ve got to inform Tanya of this.” He grabbed my arm so tightly it hurt. “Don’t whisper a word of this to anyone.”
I jerked my arm out of his grip. “Who the hell would I tell? I don’t have friends, and I’m a little insulted you’d think I’d be that stupid.”
“I’m sorry.” He apologized quickly. “I’m feeling a little protective, and I know how much danger surrounds you here.” Razor looked thoughtful for a moment. “I’m going to arrange a meeting with you and the rest of my Faction. I’ll let you know the time and place.”
I nodded. That sounded like a good idea.
“Good. I want you to meet Tanya. In fact, I feel like it’s essential that you do.” Razor started walking back toward the entrance. “Get your swords and begin your exercises. I’ll be out shortly to check on you.”
I nodded, then grabbed my short swords and left. Maybe I’d finally find out more information about Lilibet and what an Aegisworn was.
The practice field was crowded today, as it usually was the day before we performed in the coliseum. Every warrior hoped for victory and for a powerful Nexus would choose them, getting them that much closer to leaving this hellhole.
I find a clearing and take my stance, resting both blades against my thighs for a moment to feel their weight anchoring me. Then I move... My feet slide smoothly over the packed earth in an ancient rhythm—step, pivot, glide. One sword swings high, slicing through the air with a hiss, while the other strikes low, quick as a serpent's strike. My movements are well-practiced; each sequence perfected until I’m satisfied.
My muscles warm quickly, heat spreading beneath my skin as I transition between drills. Slash, spin, parry, thrust—my body moves in sync with an internal rhythm like music only I can hear. I observe every detail: the whisper of steel, the flex of my wrists, the sting of sweat sliding down my temple.
