Page 16 of Veiled

I quickly change into black workout leggings, my favorite black long-sleeve pullover with thumbholes, and my neon pink running shoes before pulling my long hair into a tight high ponytail and popping my earbuds in.

“Riding Solo” by Jason Derulo sets my warm-up pace as soon as my feet hit the dirt path to the left of my barracks. I’m hoping there won’t be any riders or dragons out this early as I decide to continue straight on the path instead of turning at the parade grounds.

Each step I take feels like it is taking a weight off me, and I can breathe a little bit deeper. There is no Scion, no sentencing, nothing. It is only me, the feeling of my shoes hitting the pavement one after the other, and the beats coming from my running playlist.

Emerging from the trees into a sprawling glen, the sun is barely breaking the horizon, sending soft pinks and yellows reflecting off the fog waiting to lift from the field. With every step I take, the fog seems to burst like small fireworks, releasing magic back into the world.

Not ready to head back, I veer left when the path comes to an end at the riding grounds and run until I hit the same forest that runs behind the Combat Arena; I’m just much further back. I choose to run parallel to the tree line, finding comfort in knowing exactly where it’ll lead me.

The dew-soaked grass starts to seep water into my shoes, and I make a mental note to find a waterproofing spray for them as soon as I get my first paycheck.

I notice several narrow dirt paths leading into the woods on my right, and while I wouldn’t dare run them in the dark, I’m not a complete idiot; they would be great to explore when I can get away for a run midday, preferably with Matt at my side, just in case.

Twenty minutes later, I am running across the courtyard when I run into the man himself, still wearing the same clothes he had on last night at dinner.

“And where have you been all night, Mattey?” I tease as I come up behind him and slow to a walk.

“Out with a new friend,” he winks.

“We’ve only been here three days! Where did you find the time to meet someone?”

A Bravo Company girl going for a walk gives him a full-body sweep with her eyes and actually licks her lips. Disgusting.

Matt leans down, voice low and mischievous. “You know, this whole ‘bad boy’ thing is really working in my favor.”

“You think people know already?”

“Lee, Lucas practically shouted when he mentioned us being sentenced here together.” He shoots me his infuriating smile, “Don’t worry, some guys like criminal chicks too.”

He hobbles a little when I push him. “Shut up. We’ve got twenty-five minutes to shower—gods know we both need one—and to get some coffee before we have to be at formation. Caffeine is a must today if I’m going to have a chance pretending I understand anything in Battle Strategy this morning.” I say with a hip bump. “Meet you back here in fifteen!”

Professor Calderon’s classroom is at the end of a long corridor on the first floor of the castle, and between my sore muscles and the reignited pain in my knee from running, I am thanking the gods that I don’t immediately have to climb three flights of stairs.

The walls in the corridor are lined with portraits of previous Scion deans, all in military uniform and looking like they’d never learned how to smile.

“Is it me, or are their eyes following us?” Sasha whispers like they’re listening.

“So creepy,” Matt mock cringes. “It’s like they’re placing their bets on who dies at Scion and who gets killed by Clowess.”

Sasha’s eyes go wide, and I elbow Matt to remind him of the gentle company we’re keeping these days.

Luckily, we’re stepping into the classroom before he has a chance to stick his foot further into his mouth.

We claim the last three seats that are open in the second row, and I barely have time to put my notebook down on the desk before the side door opens and Professor Calderon enters with a slamming door, as if we have already pissed him off simply by being here. He doesn’t speak right away, standing there as he surveys us. I get the sense he’s not assessing who’s the smartest, but who’s most likely to break under pressure—either at his hands, or by the Clowessian raiders if they ever get their hands on us.

After what feels like forever, he finally breaks the silence. “War is never fair; it’s not designed to be. And neither is this class.”

He moves to the whiteboard in front of the room and begins writing without looking back at us: ‘History influences new strategies. Strategies win wars.’

“Or, in your current situation, it might help you survive long enough to graduate,” he adds as his marker thunks against the board to make the final period.

One glance at Sasha quickly writing, ‘might survive’ in the margins of her notebook and underlining it three times has me stifling a laugh.

For the next two hours, Calderon throws battles and theoretical situations at us like we’re under enemy fire.

It’s shocking how many of these ridiculous questions the recruits around us actually know the answers to; half seems like a foreign language to me. But I suppose many of them have been preparing to come here most of their lives to keep their good standing with the King.

By the time Calderon stops to take a breath, my hand is cramping, and even Sasha looks like she’s reconsidering ever coming to the academy in the first place. Especially when every scenario he gives us seems to end the same way: families killed, towns burned to ash, and far too many questions unanswered.