Chapter 11
A dog.
He was a dog to a greedy master, one who had no idea he had, in truth, snared something feral—untrainable. Every move, every breath…
It was all calculated.
There were some days he despised what he had done, but all it took was one flash of memory, and the rage replaced any grief. He was blind to the atrocities before and ahead. There was only the sound...
A scream.
A ripping.
And silence. So. Much. Silence.
Chapter 12
Soren was separatedfrom Cion after breakfast, which had been a simple bowl of bland gruel. It was almost humorous, watching the princess struggle to finish her serving of the plain, cooked grain. Soren was, of course, used to such fare—the single advantage she had above Cion, if she could even call it that.
What am I, goat’s dung?
Soren bit back a small smile.You are only an advantage in theory right now. If I can’t make it through these weeks of training, it won’t matter that you chose me.
You will.
Thessa went silent after that, and Commander Eton approached, muscled arms crossed as he barked, “Mise. Come with me.”
Stares landed on Soren as she stood, leaving Cion and Ilav, who lingered close by. Fear pricked her hands as the commander led her away from the thick clustering of tents and towards the edge of camp. He was silent most of the way, only increasing her growing unease.
She jumped when he spoke, walking ahead of her and not bothering to look back. “I sent word to the king of you bydragonback last night. It’s the fastest way to get a message to the capital. Unfortunately, he agreed with the princess.”
The commander turned, and Soren flinched as he stepped in close, his face inches from hers now. “I don’t think scum like you is worth the extra time or resources of a personal trainer. No one is, in my opinion. But I have to follow orders.”
She met his burning gaze and said softly, “Indeed.”
Commander Eton narrowed his eyes, surveying her closely. His head tilted, and some emotion she could not decipher flickered across his harsh features. But it was fleeting, and he stepped away and barked, “Evva!”
Soren followed the commander’s eyes to the small clearing ahead. From inside a tent at the very edge of camp, a man emerged.
He was tall and broad, with pale skin, hooded brown eyes, and a gold ring piercing one of his eyebrows. Fine hair fell in dark waves just past his sharp jawline, the strands casting shadows over his face. He wore the same leather armor Commander Eton sported, though lacking in any of the decorum, and his muscled arms were covered in thin scars.
“The girl I spoke of,” the commander spat, gesturing back at Soren. “Girl, this is Swordmaster Vane Evva. He’s to be your trainer for the first few hours of each morning. After that, you will join the others for the rest of the day.”
Vane Evva lifted his gaze to hers. A strange awareness crept over her as he met her eyes, the back of her neck prickling. The air felt oddly still, but the spell was broken quickly as Vane said in a deep voice, “We’ll need more than a few hours a day. She’s weak.”
A furious flush crept up her cheeks, but she tamped down her emotion quickly. He wasn’t wrong, and getting angry was not going to help her at all.
“She has to mesh with the other riders,” Commander Eton said, his tone brokering no room for argument. “You can have her until the midday meal, no longer.”
Vane’s brow rose, his eyes still on her. “Fair enough.”
She fought the urge to squirm as he looked at her, standing with her arms crossed over her chest. Commander Eton turned to leave, but he paused with a final warning to her.
“I’ve trained Misean soldiers before, and the second I saw any spark of rebellion in their eyes, I killed them. You would do good to remember that, girl.”
She swallowed hard, her throat tight, but did not reply. The commander left, his footsteps fading, leaving her alone with Vane, who still stared at her. Now that the commander had gone, the curiosity in his expression flickered to something…raw.
He looked at her like it hurt.
