You help us win this war, Cavell, and you go free.
The fate of Mise rested on her shoulders now. She could be responsible for its demise and become a free woman, or she could stand with her home kingdom and forever be hunted by Aren’s king. She had quite suddenly made herself too important not to be noticed now.
Briefly, she wondered what the goddess in her dreams would do. Would she fight for herself or her people? Soren had no idea who her loyalties were to, besides the man in the field. Now that she was awake, a familiar blur settled over most of the dream. She could remember what she had seen but could notseeit any longer.
The commander had told her if she accepted his offer—if she chose to live rather than run or be killed—she would spend most of her time with Vane. She wasn’t sure how he was going to help her train with Thessa, since he was not a rider himself, but she hadn’t dared ask. She had merely nodded and left quietly. The commander had let her go, free for one final night—except that she had never really been free. Freedom was a foreign concept to her. The shackle around her ankle had always ensured that.
She took a breath, and Vane shifted and then rolled his neck.
“Are you going to just stand there, Sora?”
She clenched her jaw then called back, “That’s not my name!”
His entire body stilled, sudden tension filling the space between them. But he broke it quickly, clearing his throat and turning to face her as he drawled, “Apologies. I see lots of trainees come through and then go off to die. It can be tiresome to remember all their names.”
She scuffed at the mud with a booted foot, her stomach turning as she asked, “What happened to Yella?”
Vane stood, stalking towards her with a stealth only a seasoned warrior could achieve. He stopped in front of her, crossing his arms over his chest. He held a dagger in one of his large hands, the blade curved and wicked.
“I think you’re smart enough to know the answer to that question.”
Her gaze dropped. “She’s dead.”
“Regrettably.”
A disbelieving laugh escaped her before she could stop it. “You don’t care?”
He cocked his head at her, raising a brow. “Do you? She tried to kill your precious princess.”
“She—”Soren cut herself off, remembering whose side Vane was on. She lowered her head, a familiar submission settling over her. Her shoulders curved in, the ache there a welcome home to the last decade and a half of her life.
“Of course. I am glad the princess is safe.”
Vane didn’t reply, and she didn’t look at him, not until cold, sharp metal prodded at her chin. She tensed, lifting her head. He had the tip of the dagger nearly at her throat, forcing her to meet his eyes as he said in a low voice, “Don’t.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” she said, swallowing against the tightness in her esophagus.
His nostrils flared in time with his jaw tensing. “You hold power over them now, Soren. You must know that. Don’t let it go to waste by letting them mold you any further than they already have.”
“The king controls us all,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Anything beyond that reality is a dream.”
He paused. “A good dream?”
“Depends on who you’re asking. Aren’t you loyal to Aren? To King Johannas?”
His smile was like a wolf. “Naturally. Aren’t you?”
She opened her mouth, but he shushed her with the edge of the blade to her lips. “Don’t answer that. We need to start your training for the day.”
A small ember of hope flared in her chest, but she smothered it quickly. It didn’t matter if Vane was loyal or a rebel sympathizer. They were both quite obviously trapped under King Johannas’ hand. Besides, it was entirely likely Vane was simply trying to feel her out, perhaps for the commander. Something inherent told her she could trust him, but she could not rely on her instincts. She couldn’t trust anyone.
They began with the strengthening circuit, which wasn’t becoming any easier. If anything, her muscles were so sore from the days prior, it hurt even more. She ignored the pain, turning off her mind to it as she ran through the exercises. Before they began their run, Vane slapped a bar of mashed grain and seeds into her hand, brow raised.
“So you don’t faint in my arms again,” he said dryly.
She scowled at him but scarfed down the bar anyway. After the run, she nearly threw it back up, and Vane barked at her to breathe through her nose and out her mouth. Begrudgingly, she obeyed, and, annoyingly, it helped.
“See?” he said as she straightened from where she had been kneeling. “I’m not entirely useless to you.”
