“Suchfocused leadership,” Athena rolls her eyes, “admittedly, Lucca doesn’t seem any more excited about it.”
I wanted to be on Team Toscano with her and Mariya, but Liam got to me first. Each student in the Leader’s division picks three students from the other majors at the Academy, the Spies - my division - the Assassins, and the Warriors. Liam’s a good guy and part of our little group, but his judgment isn’t always as sound as Lucca’s or Konstantin’s.
We pick out our weapons in the Armory talking about the Challenge and speculating about what our sadistic Dean is planning for us. “I haven’t noticed any construction around campus,” I said, picking up a Magnum Desert Eagle and three clips of ammunition. “Usually, there’s something set up to give us a clue about at least one of the tasks.”
Athena checks the sight on one of the handguns. “You know how fond she is of her surprises.” She eyes my Desert Eagle, shaking her head. “Why do you always get the biggest gun in the rack?”
“I’m trying to think like a guy, the biggest is the best, right?” I sneer. “I’d rather be using a knife, but you know men and their large, explosive dick extenders. Of course, we’re going to focus on the big, noisy weapons.”
“You don’t think small arms training is useful to a spy?”
Oh, come on.
We turn around to see Cormac standing behind us, feet planted and arms folded, and looking unreasonably hot in his tight black t-shirt. His biceps are nearly breaking free from the cotton confines of his shirt and I realize I’m staring at them like a starving person looks at pie when he irritably clears his throat.
“Miss Chandler? You were saying?”
“Of course it is, Professor.”
Oh, don’t I sound calm and collected?
“But in our particular discipline, stealth and the ability to move fast and undetected seems more important than hauling around a wheelbarrow full of guns,” I continue. Oh, my god where did that come from? I’m going to be cleaning weapons as punishment until Christmas at this point.
He’s still watching me, his jade eyes narrowed. “What’s your weapon of choice?”
“A blade, of course,” I said promptly. There’s a stillness around us and the rest of the class is watching us avidly. Even his giggling fangirls are silent.
What I don’t say is that my brother’s Kershaw Stiletto is strapped to my ankle the way it always is. Some things you just don’t whip out in public.
Cormac’s brow is raised. Oh, damn it. He’s invested now. Striding over to the other end of the room, he passes the tidy racks of firearms and opens a huge cabinet that I’ve never seen before.
“Professor MacTavish has been redecorating…” Athena murmurs behind me.
“Pick one,” he orders.
It’s paradise. Over a hundred different knives in every size and shape, all perfectly aligned and blades gleaming in the overhead lights.
I want to pet them like kittens. I want to stroke the carbon handles, the ones inlaid with pearl or metal. I want-
“Pick one, Miss Chandler or I’ll select another student,” he interrupts my misty appreciation of such beautiful weaponry.
“Throwing or sparring?” I snap.
His head tilts. “Sparring.”
There’s a beautiful old bone-handled Scottish dirk, hanging in the cabinet. I pick it up, examining the blade, which is elegantly etched.
“This is Damascus steel, isn’t it?” I gasp, holding the knife reverently.
“Aye,” he’s right behind me, breath stirring my cheek and my knees are weak. “You know your metal. It’s aSgian Dubhdirk.” He takes it from me, holding it up.
“Who knows their history of Damascus steel?”
Marco raises his hand. “It’s some of the strongest steel in the world, the way it’s forged gives the blade a pattern that looks like flowing water.”
“Aye, true Damascus steel blades are not only some of the sharpest, but their flexibility is legendary. The blade’s ability to flex past its elastic limit and return to full strength is near impossible to duplicate by modern methods.”
Cormac takes the blade from my hands, twirling it expertly on the palm of his hand. The light flickers rapidly off the spinning blade and I am hypnotized by its beauty.
