They waved as I whizzed past. I’d told them the truth about Sterling and me, and they didn’t hate me. Just like Drayven didn’t hate me. Drayven, who I’d barely seen the past few weeks. Glimpses here and there, but nothing more. Was he deliberately keeping his distance? Why couldn’t he be the one teaching Combat 101?
No, it was fine. Once I passed this class, I’d be moved to Advanced Combat—away from Sterling. I’d be assigned a hunt leader. Every Hunter had one, even if they weren’t on the active team. I just hoped I didn’t get Sterling.
I focused on the slap of my sneakers on the wet ground, still slick from last night’s storm, and breathed in the heavy, humid air. The weather here sucked. Running sucked, especially when someone was making you do it. Round and round—the same shitty view. Ugh.
The clang of metal on metal rang out in the training arena—today, the students were practicing with real swords.
I should’ve been with them, not running fucking laps, forcing my heavy limbs to keep moving, ragged breath pluming in front of me.Slap. Slap. Slap,against the wet ground I went, round and round while the asshole ruining my training watched from across the grounds, arms crossed, expression unreadable.
Bastard.
I hope he fell and impaled himself on an ashwood stake.
A hulking male figure loped across the grounds toward the training arena, mist rising off his muscle-packed frame. Drayven? Yes…yes it was. My pace slowed as the barghest joined Sterling. They spoke for a moment before Drayven looked across the field at me.
I raised a hand in greeting and picked up my pace, eager to get to his side of the field. He turned away, his back to me as he spoke to Sterling.
The dhampir glanced over at me, a cruel smile painting his lips.
My hatred for him was a physical ache in my soul.
Sterling blew his whistle, and everyone stopped what they were doing and veered toward him.
I hurried to join them, falling in step with the Unwoven along the way. “What’s going on?”
“I don’t know,” Clary said, wiping sweat from her brow.
We joined the others surrounding Drayven and Sterling. The barghest’s eyes softened when they settled on me, and the knots in my chest eased.
“I have news,” Sterling said. “News about the grading. The date has changed. I feel that you’re ready, so why wait?” The corner of his mouth turned up as his gaze slid my way. “I spoke to administration, and the grading will now take place in two days.”
Gasps of excitement rippled through the students. Students who’d been training for months, but a heavy weight settled in my stomach—two days away was too soon. Two days away wasbeforethe ceremony to return some of my power, which meant I would be magically defenseless against the mystically generated Horrors.
“And there’s more,” Sterling continued. “This year’s grading will be a truly unique experience because you won’t be fighting illusory Horrors. The Carvers have created flesh-and-blood Horrors for you to face.”
The excitement swelled.
I looked to Drayven, who had his head bowed, shoulders hunched.
“And it will take placeoutsidethe southern border,” Sterling said. More gasps followed his statement. “Don’t worry, you’ll be monitored, and the Horrors are under Carver control. They will attack and maim, but they willnotkill. And remember, you’ll all have rift blades.”
Rift blades were short swords powered by magitech, fuelled by the Weave. Their hilts were embedded with conduit stones, allowing any supernal to wield one—even those who couldn’t use the Weave—because all supernals were created by the Source—a well of power considered to be a sister to the Weave. The stones gave supernals temporary access to the Weave’s power or heightened their existing connections. The century-old block on my bloodlines' power disrupted the channeling power of the stones and prevented any connection from occurring.
I’d be defenseless out there.
“So we can be hurt?” Tyler asked.
“Yes. You could be seriously hurt.” He smirked at me with a little too much relish. “This is a true test of a Hunter. Separating the wheat from the chaff. If you’re meant to be a Hunter, you’ll pass. And if you fail…well, best to learn now howworthlessyou truly are.”
A tightness bloomed in my chest making it harder to breathe. He’d arranged this to ensure I got hurt. He must have. He wasn’t allowed to hurt me directly, although he’d given it a good shot under the guise of training a few weeks ago. He hadn’t touched me since, and now I understood why. He’d been planning for the grading to do his dirty work for him.
Oh, what I’d give to punch a fist through his brittle chest and yank out his cold, shriveled heart. But all I had was my resolve and my words. I lifted my chin and met his silvery, pale gaze with defiance. “I guess it’ll also be a testament to your teaching ability.”
Sterling’s eyes narrowed to slits.
Drayven suppressed a smile. “Yes, Sterling. It certainly will.”
Sterling ignored him and continued, “Get some rest and prepare, this grading will be watched by the whole Academy.” He threw another lingering smirk my way.
