Page 144 of Burn of the Everflame

The recruits split into duos and spread out to begin their fights. As I wove my way through, barking feedback, the Guardians continued their mocking comments. The Ignios soldiers had also taken an interest, shaking their heads at the novices’ sloppy methods.

“Baby Bellator spent a few years at a fancy school, now he thinks he’s one of them,” a rebel called out. “Who’s gonna tell him he bleeds like us?”

Despite their sneers, or perhaps because of them, Teller spun forward with a flawless swing of his wooden sword into his partner’s ribs.

“Good, Bellator.” I shot a withering look at his opponent. “Do they not teach their sons how to shield in House Benette?”

Teller went rigid. His eyes dropped to the sigil on his partner’s uniform that marked him as a Benette.

The man climbed back to his feet, rubbing at his side and scowling. He raised his shield, and they began again, though Teller’s moves were less certain than before.

“We’re picking on the wrong recruit,” another rebel joked. “That pathetic Descended can’t even handle one mortal.”

The Benette recruit gritted his teeth at the ridicule. He shot out a sloppy burst of dark shards that Teller easily dodged. The Guardians dissolved in laughter, while the nearby Ignios spectators clicked their tongues in disapproval.

The Benette recruit’s eyes darkened. He circled Teller, jaw tensed, muscles tight. He took his shot, casting a cloud of black to obscure him as he lunged. A clever move, but Teller’s instincts were sharp. He closed his eyes to focus on his partner’s pounding footsteps, and he angled his blade at just the right moment. When the shadow magic cleared, the Benette man was on the ground, holding his gut and moaning.

The Guardians whooped. “Come on, baby Bellator, finish him off,” a rebel shouted. “The only good Descended guard is a dead one.”

“Shut your mouth,” Teller snarled, turning toward them. Their cheering turned to delighted laughter at finally getting a rise.

“That’s enough,” I warned them. “Find something more useful to do than interrupting my training, or I’ll have Auralie put you on latrine duty for a month.”

They rolled their eyes and grumbled, then started to disperse. One elbowed another as they walked away. “At least when they’re dead, they don’t go to the Undying Fire. They rot in the ground where they belong.”

Teller’s sword thumped to the soil.

Within seconds, he was on the rebel’s back, slamming a fist into the side of his jaw. The other recruits—mortal and Descended—roared their support, but when the rebel landed a return blow across Teller’s temple, their amusement turned abruptly to rage.

“For Teller,” Owenran shouted, raising a fist. He shot toward the rebels, the others followed, and the scene turned to chaos.

“Break it up,” I ordered. Cords of hissing darkness flowed from my hands and coiled around ankles, yanking them out of the fray one by one. “I said, break it up.”

I stalked forward and grabbed Teller by the collar, dragging him off his bloodied victim. He fought me the whole way, thrashing and swinging at an enemy that was no longer there.

I yanked his face up to mine. “This is not how you honor Perthe,” I hissed, quiet enough so only he could hear. His eyes dropped, though his jaw was still tight with fury. “You think this is going to help Diem earn the rebels’ trust? You’re her brother. What you do reflects on her.”

He wiped the back of his hand across his brow, smearing blood across his face. “Why does everything always have to be about her?”

I sighed and shoved him toward the palace. “Clean yourself up, then wait for me in the foyer.”

I turned to the others. More Guardians had run from camp to join the scuffle, outnumbering the recruits three to one. Nidara’s second—bless the Kindred for her—had seen the tides shift and sent her soldiers to intervene before a simple fistfight turned into something worse. I gave her a nod of thanks, then sent another burst of magic into the fight. Bands of blue light wrapped over the eyes of the worst offenders, blinding them and sending them stumbling apart.

“Get your asses back to your camp,” I barked at the rebels.

“We don’t answer to you,” one shouted back.

“You answer to Auralie Bellator. What do you think she’ll say when she hears you assaulted her son?”

They skulked away as they tossed dirty looks at the recruits. One particularly feisty woman remained, waving a finger in my face. “You spent all that time with us in Arboros. We thought you were one of us. Now you’re defending them. This is why Descended can’t be trusted. Your kind only looks out for themselves.”

“Teller Bellator is a mortal,” I snapped. “So are half the recruits you just attacked. Where’s your loyalty to them?”

She sneered. “They joined the Royal Guard. They made their choice.”

“So you prefer we go back to the days when only Descended were allowed in? You’d rather have people from Lumnos City patrolling your streets, instead of your own neighbors?”

The woman bristled. “That’s not what I⁠—”