‘Get in position, acolyte. I’m going to show you howarrogancegets people killed,’ he says, tapping his stave against the mat.
‘Arrogance? Wow, how self-aware of you,’ I reply, sarcasm infused in every word.
His eyes narrow. ‘Your petulance is wearing my patience thin,’ he says. ‘Get. In. Position.’
‘Petulance, patience, position. Ialsoknow words that start with the letter P.’ I smile, but it holds no warmth as I gesture toward him with one hand. ‘Prick, for example.’
Sebastian lunges.
His stave connects with mine in an almighty clash that echoes throughout the room. I block his strike, bringing my stave up in front of my face, then spin and sweep low. But he leaps back, then strikes high. I duck just in time, hearing the whiz of his stave fly through the air above me.
‘Pig-headed,’ I continue and leap up, twisting my stave around my body and jabbing toward his ribs.
He bends out of the way but damn, it was close. My eyes dip to his groin, before flicking back up.
‘Puny,’ I grin.
His top lip curls back, and a low growl builds in his throat that makes my blood rush. When he attacks again, it’s nothing like before. He is relentless in his pursuit. His stave cracks down on mine with a ferocity that makes my arms shake. The force sends shock waves all the way down to my fingers.
I shove him off and dive into a flurry of hard and fast strikes hoping to catch him off guard, but he holds his own, deflecting and blocking with practised ease. That is until a strike finally lands – right on his shoulder. He grunts, stepping back with a flash of surprise in his flaming green eyes.
There’s an audible gasp in the room. My gaze flicks past Sebastian, to the first -years who have paused their training to stand and watch. Combat leaders are spread around the room also, their eyes pinned to the two of us. Gods, they’re all watching.
Movement in the corner of my eye has my body jerking back around. Sebastian advances, but my focus had drifted to the onlookers outside of the ring, so I react far too slowly to the man who standsinsideof it.
His stave careens toward my torso. In a last-ditch effort to spare myself, I tense my abdominal muscles right before it thwacks across my stomach. The air is knocked out of me and my feet leave the mat as I fall backward, landing hard on my back. My teeth clatter together loudly.
‘F-fuck,’ I pant, pulling a lungful of air into my body as the shock rolls through me.
I hear Sebastian’s boots thud against the mat as he closes the distance between us. He stops beside my right hip and crouches down. His stave is laid across his thighs, his hands dangling between them.
‘Pathetic. Poisonous.Pest.’ His deep voice is raspy and callous. It grates at my skin, at my nerves, at the rapid -pounding organ in my chest.
My left hand curls around my stave, clenching the wood so hard I know my knuckles are white without having to look. I let his insults roll into me, using them as fuel to breathe through the pain lashing across my stomach. To push past the embarrassment, knowing everyone just witnessed him hand my ass to me. I swallow his insults down like they’re my favourite poison.
I don’t hold back the tears that threaten to fill my eyes. Instead Iletthem fall. Iwanthim to think I’ve given up. Want him to think that he won … and it works. I see the moment his brows dip, and the corner of his mouth tugs down as if my visible distress truly affects him. Almost as if he feels … guilty.
In one quick movement I lift my legs to curl my body into itself, then kick out, my boots slamming into the inside of his right knee and knocking him off balance. He falls to his side, grasping for the stavethat I kick away from him as I leap to my feet. It clatters to the ground somewhere outside of the mat, while mine twists in my hand and jabs into the middle of his chest, pinning him to the mat just like I did with Moira earlier.
His eyes widen, pupils dilating as I lean forward and whisper, ‘Thatis how arrogance gets you killed.’ I release my weapon, letting it clatter down beside him as I spin on my heel and stalk out of the Training Centre.
TWENTY-SIX
If there is one thing I have learned while training at Valmora Academy, it’s that the people who built the underground baths built them for a reason. What Malachite students get put through to hone their bodies into weapons is no joke and, in my opinion, is the equivalent to torture.
Since my outburst three days ago where I walked out of the Training Centre, Sebastian has now taken it upon himself to make my life a living hell every time I step foot within the ring. Lillian has offered each night to help me up the stairs to my room, but each night I refuse. The other students would only see it as a weakness, and I’m here to prove that Nocthare s belong at Valmora Academy. So, I’ve been gritting my teeth and forcing myself up those damn steps, even though I often have to stop halfway to place my forehead against the wall until the waves of nausea dissipate enough to continue.
Have I been taking Tilly’s advice and eating double the amount I used to? No. Lillian brings me dinner each night, which I haven’t asked for, but she does anyway. And Tilly is somehow always waiting outside Malachite’s gate with breakfast for me. I don’t eat during the day, which I know isn’t healthy, nor is it helping the constant fatigue I’m facing, but I refuse to walk inside that starsdamn dining hall until Nicks finds out who tried to poison me.
My legs shake as I carefully tread along the damp concrete floor of the tunnel that leads to the baths below the Training Centre. Witheach step I take, I feel unsteady, like I might collapse to the floor at any moment. My legs feel heavy and weightless all at once, and more sweat than I thought possible has made my skin sticky.
I managed to get Moira down on the mat earlier using the staves again, then we spent the next twenty minutes sparring with our fists. The rest of our training session was spent outside, where Sebastian ran us into the ground as we traversed the thicket of trees along the forest edge, all the way to the cliffs and back. When I asked how many laps we were doing, his answer was, ‘Until you can’t physically do it anymore’. By the time I made it back inside the Training Centre, I swore I could taste blood coming up from my lungs and into the back of my mouth.
All I can think about now is the water within the baths that will heal my aches and wounds.
The tunnel is dark, damp and humid. At the sound of the door suddenly opening and closing behind me, a little alarm rings in my head to remind me I probably shouldn’t be down here by myself.Shit.I didn’t think this through very well.
My heart kicks up a notch, certain now that someone is following behind me. I quicken my pace, using the warm stone wall to hold me upright as I shuffle down the declining slope of the tunnel.
