Page 153

I glare at him. "You are a terrible friend."

He smiles. "I know. I'll miss you."

I shake my head as they walk away. Somehow their ridiculousness feels comforting today.

Sky Wing is already assembling. Mara stands beside a rack of practice weapons, clipboard in hand. Students are arriving in pairs, speaking quietly while stretching sore muscles from previous sessions. I recognize several second-years from the lunch meeting. Others are complete strangers. Rhyven isn't here yet. Or—

"No." Mara says before I even reach the line.

I frown. "No... what?"

"No standing around." She points toward the open training field. "Five laps."

"Training hasn't started."

"It starts when you arrive."

I stare at her. "You sound like him."

"I work with him." Fair point.

I begin jogging. By the time the fifth lap ends, my lungs are burning. So are everyone else's. Nobody says much anymore. Conversation has been replaced by controlled breathing. Rhyven steps onto the field exactly as the last students finish running. No announcement. No greeting. He simply looks over the group. "Water." That's all. Students move immediately. We have exactly enough time to drink before he speaks again. "Today isn't combat." A few disappointed faces appear. He notices. Ignores them. "Today is discipline." He walks slowly across the front of the group. "If you lose control of your breathing..." He stops. "You lose control of your body." Another step. "If you lose control of your body..." "Your magic follows." His eyes move over us. "Again."

Groans. Actual groans. He remains completely unimpressed. The next hour is miserable. Balance drills. Sprints. Climbing. Controlled falls. Footwork repeated until my calves begin trembling. Every mistake earns the same response. "Again." No yelling. No insults. No speeches. Just... Again. Again. Again.

I begin to understand why upper-years stop complaining. Complaining changes nothing. Eventually, we move into paired exercises. Mara reads names from her clipboard. Students split across the field. Wooden practice swords replace weighted packs. My partner is a second-year named Liora. She attacks fast. Not recklessly. Precisely. Within seconds she knocks my blade aside.

"Again." The word comes from behind me. Rhyven. Of course. I reset my stance. Attack. Blocked. Again. Again. Again. By the fifth attempt, irritation begins replacing concentration. He notices. "You're thinking about losing."

"I'm thinking about my footing."

"No." His voice stays calm. "You're thinking about the last mistake." I hate that he's right. "Clear it."

"I—" I start.

"Again."

I attack. Miss. Again. My shoulders tense. Again. Finally, I lower my sword. "What am I doing wrong?" Rhyven walks forward. He doesn't answer immediately. Instead, he reaches for my wrist. His hand adjusts it only slightly. Barely two centimeters. Then he steps back. "Again." I attack. This time my blade slips cleanly past Liora's defense before she manages to recover. The movement feels effortless. Like something finally clicked. Rhyven nods once. "Better." Then he walks away. No smile. No praise beyond a single word. Oddly...It's enough.

Three hours later, the sun hangs low above the mountains. Every member of Sky Wing looks exhausted. Sweat-soaked. Bruised. Silent.

Rhyven stands before us one last time. "Talent..." He says quietly. "Makes you dangerous." No one moves. "Discipline..." His gaze travels across the Wing. "Makes you reliable." A pause. "I'd rather trust reliable." He looks toward Mara. "Dismissed."

The collective sigh from forty exhausted students is almost loud enough to shake the mountains.

I retrieve my satchel and sling it over one shoulder with considerably more care than I had this morning. Every muscle protests. I take three steps toward the Academy. A whistle cuts through the evening air. Not Rhyven. Different. Familiar. I turn.

Across the path separating the Sky and Dawn training grounds, someone sits casually atop the low stone wall surrounding the vampire field. Arms folded. Dark hair catching the last light of day. Caelen.

He grins the moment our eyes meet. "You look terrible."

I roll my eyes so hard it almost hurts. "You always know exactly what to say."

His grin grows. "I try."

And just like that for the first time in what feels like days I don't feel like part of an investigation. I feel like someone's little sister.

"You've been laughing at me for almost thirty seconds."