“Shut up, I don’t think it hides our voices, idiot,” Dreya scolded in a whisper.
“Do you see anything?” a voice said from above us.
“No, nothing here. Clear out to the next section.” The voice that responded was Orin’s.
I held my breath, heart pounding in my ears. How many times could I disappoint him before he had to kill me?
The sound of their steps faded, and Dreya let go of us, her Sanctum disappearing. “Oh,” she said, pressing a hand to her abdomen before emptying her stomach into the snow.
I gripped the axe in my hands, breathing through the strange feeling of magic swimming through my veins. Something had happened to me. Something had changed. I just didn’t understandwhat.
Twelve
Maze of Death
My muscles burned with every step, my lungs aching as my boots slogged through knee-deep snow. I’d lost count of how many laps we had run.
Orin had been waiting for us when we returned from the woods, pacing the corridor outside our room like a storm about to break. He’d lectured us about our stupidity with barely leashed anger. I’d had enough time to hide my axe in my cloak and shove it under my bed before he forced us to the training yards. Eventually, the other initiates had joined us. But that was no break. We launched straight into hand-to-hand combat, which surprisingly, I was good at.
Bohdi had been running us through striking forms with swords while Orin stood silently. He kept his arms folded against his chest, watching us with an unreadable expression.
Bohdi raised his sword in a series of manoeuvres that we mimicked. Sword drills were worse today, but I gritted my teeth and endured it. At least no one was dragging me to a dungeon to slice my skin open.Small mercies.
“Lyra and Riven,” Orin snapped from the sideline. I startled, nearly losing my grip on my sword.
“Spar,” was all he said. Bohdi shot him an odd expression before sighing and stepping back.
I tried to meet Orin’s eyes, hoping for a hint of reassurance, but he didn’t look at me. Just like this morning, he gave me nothing but cold indifference.
I’ve pushed him too far.
Riven twirled his blade in a graceful arc around his body before settling into a loose attack stance, a grin tugging at his lips. He was infuriatingly casual, as though he knew exactly how this would end.
I had never held aswordagainst another person before, but I knew what it felt like to drive steel through flesh.
A smile ghosted my lips at the only fond memory I had of him. Perhaps I was more dangerous than I’d given myself credit for. Ever since I’d touched that axe, something else coiled beneath my skin. Restless and alive. I struck first, a clumsy jab that Riven deflected with ease. Effortlessly.
But he didn’t counter. He just watched me, grey eyes bright with some unreadable glimmer. I gritted my teeth and swung again, putting all my desperation behind the blow. Metal met metal in a scraping clash that rattled all the way up my arms.
I tried to steady my breathing and swung again, a wide arc meant to drive him back.
He blocked it with a flick of his wrist, the movement so casual it felt like mockery.
“Come on, Princess,” he said encouragingly.
I lunged once more, aiming low. He stepped aside, turning just enough that my blade met nothing but air. I grunted with frustration.
He swept his sword down towards my shoulder, slowenough that I could scramble to parry. When the blades met, a sharp pain laced through my wrist, the weapon almost slipping from my grip from the force.
“Block with two hands, Lyra!” Bohdi yelled from the sideline.
The cut Riven had accidentally given me throbbed as I gripped the pommel, taking Bohdi’s advice. I kept blocking.
He didn’t relent. Another strike, then another, each one harder, each one precise and almost lazy, as though he were testing how many blows it would take to wear me down.
Gritting my teeth, I lifted my sword to block a high cut. Too slow.
His blade smacked against mine with a jarring crack. The force wrenched the sword from my grasp, sending it skidding across the snow.
