But the sun shone above, bouncing off his blade. It dragged me back to the Engrossian raid in the Southern Pass. The moon had looked down on us in the same way, casting their scarred skin in stark relief.
Warrior Prince, they’d called me.We should have killed you.
All I heard were chains. Scraping against rock. Snapping closed around my wrists. Rattling through my head as I was slammed back into the wall. Sharp and bruising. My flesh torn open, jagged edges pressing into scarred skin. The agony it had been—it was all I knew.
I stood frozen in the training yard, but I was really back in that place.
Isolated, alone, forgotten.
Knives dragging along my skin. Blood beading vicious and unremorseful. The scratch of blades being sharpened.
All of it taunting me as their threats did. Drowning me.
My sword nearly fell from my hands.
As much of a coward as his father.
No. I may have said it out loud; I couldn’t be sure.
A burst of energy shot through me, and I pushed Gerad back.
I won’t be a coward, I swore, surging forward.I will not be my father.
Another strike.
I’m stronger than him.
Another.
I—
A blade clattered to the floor, snapping me back to the present. I blinked, realizing I stood panting over the Turrenian warrior, his freckled skin darker than the pale Engrossian tone. His light brown eyes kinder than their vengeful glares.
“Take a break.” Cyph patted Gerad on the back, coming to my side. He dropped his voice. “Are you okay?”
“Fine,” I grumbled, stomping toward the stairs that led back to the palace. But I didn’t want to be there either. At the last minute, I turned and stormed across the arena, out into the gardens. Cyph followed, instructing the others to continue their training circuits.
Once I was far enough away that I couldn’t hear the clashing weapons, I stopped. Rows of vibrant flowers lined the earth, herbs and vegetables stretching out across the dirt. So much life.
“Gerad is a strong fighter,” Cyph said, coming up behind me.
“Clearly,” I mumbled.
“He’s in the next group to complete the Undertaking. They’ll be done before Daminius.”
I cast a narrowed glance over my shoulder. “Good for them.”
“They’ll be in the ranks when the troops march out.”
Because war was coming. We still didn’t know when or how, but Kakias’s army was marching through neutral land in Bodymelder Territory, skirting the Seawatchers’ borders and heading toward Mystique land.
We would meet them.
Every day more warriors dove into the Spirit Volcano, and most returned. Those who were attempting the Undertaking after the last war were the most committed, the warriors who had been devastated they’d missed their chance.
A few hadn’t made it, and Cyph shouldered those losses personally, but his determination was evident in the tenacity of his training regimen.
Our numbers were creeping up. We’d have over a thousand new recruits to pair with the four thousand across the territory who’d returned from the last war. It was nothing compared to the twenty thousand we’d been told Kakias was marching east, but if we were fierceenough fighters with strategic enough leaders, we could win. Especially if we could take out their queen. And with the small legions of the Soulguiders and Starsearchers plus a host of Seawatchers—it was something.
