War Games
Riven and I rounded the stairs and stepped into the dim corridor leading to our rooms. After being dismissed by Captain Bronwyn, we were instructed to return to our rooms. Riven hadn’t said a word to me, but the occasional brush of his arm against mine felt almost reassuring. My steps faltered. Roman and Dreya’s conversation died off from behind us as Orin came into view. He leant against the wall beside our door, arms crossed, the hard lines of his face and body radiating tension.
“You look grumpy, fearless leader,” Riven drawled, voice dripping with mockery.
He pushed off the wall, closing the distance between them and shoving Riven. “Shut your Gods-damned mouth, initiate.”
Riven grinned in his face, squaring his shoulders. “Do it again. I dare you.”
“Riven, stop it,” Dreya warned.
“Get out of my face. All of you! Shower and change for dinner.”
“As you wish,” Riven said as he stepped around him, but the sarcasm in his voice was palpable.
The vein in Orin’s forehead looked like it was going to burst as I went to walk past him. “Not you, Lyra.”
The others left me alone in the hallway, the door closing behind them. The silence was suffocating as he stared down at me. I was certain they’d only seen me strangling Hadley. But what if he knew I was trying to drown her?
“Hadley will be fine,” he said finally. “If you care.”
“I don’t,” I snapped, lifting my chin. But I did. I didn’t want another person’s death on my hands.
He let out a long, tired sigh and rested his head against the stone. “Lyra, you can’t do that here. Your actions reflect on me. If I can’t control a squad of initiates, they won’t let me be lieutenant in the field.”
I stepped closer, splaying my hands against his chest.
He stiffened beneath my touch, eyes dropping to meet mine. “I’m warning you. You can’t do that again.” Something in his voice softened; he swallowed, then curled his arms around my shoulders and drew me in. The scent of steel and leather steadied me.
“I’m upset with you,” he murmured into my hair.
“I could fix that,” I whispered, slipping fingers beneath his belt.
His hands caught my wrists, pinning them to his chest. “And where do you suppose we reminisce, Princess? In our shared room?” He pressed me back a step. “If you disobey me or attack a squadmate again, it will be twenty-four hours in a cell, and we both know you don’t like dungeons. After that, the third strike is death.”
My spine went rigid. His eyes softened in a blink of vulnerability before he bent and pressed a brief, longing kiss to my forehead, an apology and a warning wrappedtogether. “Stay in line, remember? Now go. Get ready for dinner with the squad.”
The tall stone walls of the dining hall opened into vaulted ceilings that made the sound of hundreds of Iron Guards chatting amplify as they ate.
I gathered a premade tray from a large bench. Bread, grains, fruit and some sort of meat. I was hungry enough that it made my mouth water. I followed Dreya to a table near double doors that looked as though they opened to a balcony, where the rest of our squad sat.
“Can you tell us more about the war games?” Roman asked Bohdi as we sat down.
“They weed out the weak, prepare you for real war, and build squad camaraderie. But they also help initiates develop Sanctums.”
“Yes, but when do they start?” he asked, aligning his cutlery in a perfect row.
“We don’t know,” Orin cut in with a frustrated sigh. “All we have been told is to expect a higher death toll this year. They want to force out strong Sanctums.”
“Hmm games and death, two of my favourite things. Add fucking in there and you’d have a trifecta,” Riven said with an arrogant smirk. Roman chuckled under his breathe despite himself. Whatever rivalry that had existed between them apparently gone. Probably worn down slowly by Riven’s charm. He was a difficult person to dislike, unlike me. I had caught Dreya watching me out of the corner of her eye on more than one occasion since I had choked Hadley. I didn’t blame her.
After eating, I returned to our room, leaving the others to chat and drink. Exhaustion pressed heavily on me as I lay on the small bed, the rough blankets scratching against my skin.
My entire body ached. Muscles I didn’t realise I had ached with every breath I took. But I had survived my first day as an Iron Guard initiate. Even if it was short lived and unwanted, I felt a small flicker of pride. The only thing that stopped me from antagonising Orin into killing me was my curiosity. Water Sanctums were forbidden, linked to a prophecy that could kill the Gods. Was I, their villain? An evil worth killing?
Dreya had become paranoid around me after I asked about drowning. I needed to know why. Perhaps there was a purpose to this. To me surviving. Exhaustion dragged me with prying claws into the nightmares that waited for me each night.
A bell tolled, high and shrill, ripping me from the depths of sleep with a jolt. I sat up, squinting against the darkness. The embers in the hearth had died to a dull glow.
