Darius hums in agreement. “But it’s good work. Grounding.”
Taila nods. “And no one here coasts. You either carry your weight, or you’re gone.”
Her eyes flick back to me.
I meet her gaze. “I’m not here by accident,” I say quietly. “I know what’s coming.”
“Good,” she says, then picks up another piece of bacon. “Because it only gets harder from here.”
Fenric leans in like he’s about to share a secret. “Word of advice? If you value your spine, avoid the east training yard after it rains. Mud turns to quicksand, and Sergeant Brenn still makes you spar in it.”
“I lost a boot in there,” Darius adds, deadpan.
“Hesank,” Fenric adds, grinning. “Like a stone. They had to haul him out like a tragic swamp casualty.”
Darius just shakes his head, but the amusement in his eyes says he doesn’t mind the telling.
Taila sighs. “Ignore them—mostly. But do listen when it comes to the training structure. You’ll be assigned a rotation commander, usually someone who reports directly to the Warlord or Captain Elaris. They set your daily schedule and decide whether you’re progressing fast enough.”
“Or when to break you down and rebuild you from scratch,” Fenric mutters, stabbing at his eggs.
Lyra whistles. “Sounds fun.”
Taila offers a wry smile. “Depends on your definition. You’re evaluated every two weeks. If you’re falling behind, they notice. If you’re improving, they notice. Either way, they push harder.”
I nod. It’s not unexpected, but hearing it from someone who’s already survived it makes it all the more real.
Lyra points her spoon at me. “Oh, she won’t be in rotation. She’s training with the Warlord himself.”
That gets a reaction. Darius and Fenric trade a look. Taila’s brows lift, slow and high.
“Well that’s . . . interesting,” Fenric says, dragging the word out just enough to imply things he hasn’t said.
Darius flicks his ear without even looking. “You don’t have to turn everything sexual.”
“I didn’t!” Fenric protests, clearly lying. “I just said ‘interesting.’Youmade it weird.”
Taila snorts. “You always make it weird.”
Fenric spreads his hands, unbothered. “I bring color to your otherwise drab military lives.”
“You bring headaches,” Darius says. “But I adore you anyway.”
I shake my head, smiling despite myself. Lyra grins into her bowl.
Taila watches me for a beat, head tilted. “That tracks. You’re the Spiritborn, and the Warlord’s the best warrior in the realm. One of the strongest Fire Wielders alive.”
“Yeah,” I say slowly. “I think they’re fast-tracking me. Some kind of training program Valen and Thane have worked out.”
Fenric raises a brow, all too pleased. “Firstnames, huh?” He waggles his eyebrows. “Very interesting.”
Darius rolls his eyes. Taila sighs. I bite back one of my own.
If only they knew how complicated all of this really was. Or how little control I actually have over any of it.
“You’re funny,” Lyra says to Fenric, clearly delighted.
“What about the other trainees?” I ask, trying to steer us back to solid ground. “Anything we should know?”
