Page 12 of Veiled

“This academy’s legacy was built by those who once stood where you stand now. Its continuation depends entirely on what you choose to become from this moment forward.

“Before we begin, allow me to introduce the faculty who will oversee your training. Each is a master of their discipline. Together, they are the crucible through which you will either be remade…or broken.”

She gestures toward the stage behind her. “Healer Alric-Arcane Healing and Combat Medicine, Major Calderon-Military Strategy, Captain Varin-Environmental Tactics, and Captain Korr-Combat Class.”

Captain Korr—the instructor who walked in late—doesn’t look old enough to have Captain in front of his name, but there’s something in the way he carries himself that says he’s more than earned it. Twenty-five, maybe twenty-six? His blonde hair is cropped close on the sides but long enough on top to look deliberately insubordinate, and the rolled sleeves of his uniform on his muscular, tattooed forearms have me imagining the most criminal things.

Dean Stevens’s voice snaps me out of my reverie; her tone only slightly softened from her welcome speech, enough to suggest respect or maybe even some warmth. “You’ll meet your specialization instructors once you reach their respective classes next week. In the meantime, take a look around you. These are the faces you’ll suffer with. Bleed with. Be inspired by. And, if you’re lucky and don’t die, graduate beside.”

Nothing like a touch of cheerful morbidity in a welcome speech.

“Bravo Company, you know what to do.”

Several recruits start to move around, but before I can even ask what’s happening, Matt reaches over and wipes my bottom lip with his thumb.

I jerk back, confused.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, barely suppressing a grin. “You still had a little drool.”

I swat his arm. “Asshole,” I mutter, even as a smile breaks through.

Once attendance has been taken, we are dismissed to head to our first classes.

As a group, several of the Charlie Company recruits and I make our way to the Combat Arena, a tall, circular stone building set against yet another dark forest. The interior of the arena consists of hard-packed dirt, steel-framed weapon racks, and sand-filled sparring pits, with faint patches of darker sand that I’m going to pretend aren’t puddles of blood from Bravo Class.

Professor Korr waits for us with arms crossed in the middle of the room. His sleeveless black shirt does nothing to hide the incredible shape he’s in—or to curb my desire to find out just how far his full sleeve tattoos extend.

“This week, we assess your physical baselines: strength, speed, endurance, and pain tolerance. Hand-to-hand proficiency will be tested by the end of the week. If you’ve never fought before, congratulations. You’re about to learn real fast.

“We’ll start with bodyweight-based strength tests. Today you’ll take turns doing pull-ups and timed planks, on Wednesday, you’ll do pistol squats and hand-to-hand combat, and on Friday, you’ll all run the obstacle course. Each class will end in suicide runs on the hill behind the arena. Pay attention to the flags marking your turning points; failure to note your surroundings will not be excused.

“Do your best to max out on every rep; your class rankings will reflect your performance, and the five lowest ranking students each month will get a mark against them in their files.”

A pause, deliberate.

“First round starts in five; I suggest you stretch.”

Everyone jumps into motion, stretching and shaking out nerves before the clock runs down.

Perry, a redhead who stood close to me in formation, elbows me lightly. “Hey, are you ready for this?”

“I think so. You?”

“Ready to fail miserably? Yes!” His smile is pained, and I get the idea he’s here for the more academic tracks, not the physical ones.

“Hey, we’re going to focus on one thing at a time. Don’t think about them too much or you’ll psych yourself out.” I try to encourage him, but despite being a fitness coach, pep-talks are definitely not my strong suit. One-liners are my sweet spot: You’ve got this…You’re almost there…Just imagine it’s his dad you’re riding.

Okay, I admit, the last one only came out once, but Raquel had been dumped that day, and her ex’s dad was crazy hot. And it worked because her pelvic thrusts and Kegel workouts were on a completely different level after that.

Korr blows the whistle, causing half the class to blanch as warm-up time comes to an end.

“We’re starting with pull-ups,” he calls. “Full arm extension. Your chin must go above the bar; no shortcuts. If I catch you cheating, you start over.”

I’m not surprised when the first few recruits jumping to the bars are in incredible shape. They max out at twenty before Korr calls them down, and the next group takes their places.

I watch as Emily Tarlow from intake moves to the middle bar. From the moment she hops up to grab the bar to when she drops during her sixteenth pull-up, she remains the picture of precision, every movement controlled, no shaking in her arms or kicking of her legs…I officially want to be her when I grow up.

A handful of recruits manage eights, nines, and tens; others, like Perry, are lucky to hit two or three before their arms give out.