Enemy Tyes: Great Falls Academy, Episode 7

by Alex Lidell

  “No, you are not.” Emerald eyes flash. “And in case no one ever told you, you are a terrible liar, Lera.”

  “I’m sorry that I hurt you.” Full truth there—though, cruel as Tye is being, it might not be true much longer.

  Tye’s nostrils flare, pain flashing in his eyes before ice crystals grip his irises. “I was no more than collateral damage in your plans.” He tips his head back, taking a few moments to breathe before looking back at me, his voice collected once more. “If the deputy headmaster decided to take his conversation over your performance into the southern territories, it was plainly done with mutual consent. So, don’t worry, Leralynn—I won’t throw River to the wolves. That’s your style, not mine.”

  My teeth grind together. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t bother. I’m doing it for River.” Tye jerks his arm free from my hold and continues down the step. “As for you, you want to be on the Prowess team? Well, welcome. Now you get to discover what that means in Han’s world.”

  Covering the rest of the steps in speedy silence, Tye and I exit the keep into what’s now turned into a pounding sheet of rain, the sky so dark gray that it might as well be evening. The water soaks my uniform and hair at once, which at least has the advantage of washing River’s scent off me. The courtyard is empty, save for a few scurrying servants braving the rain to complete their tasks. And Han. Waiting under the cover of the arena’s scaffolding, he stands with his arms crossed, his eyes boring into me with a butcher’s evaluation.

  “That stunt you pulled in Briar’s class was unacceptable,” Han says by way of greeting. My gut churns as always at the sight of him. The wrongness of him. “Especially with only three days until the opening ceremonies.”

  My pulse taps a beat to match the pounding rain, my bunched muscles tingling with energy. “Sir—”

  Han’s backhand strikes my face with a vicious casualness, and I stumble back, wiping a trickle of blood now snaking from the corner of my mouth.

  Through the sheet of rain, I mark Tye standing easy a few paces away, hands still in his pockets as his soaked white shirt molds to his chest and cut abdomen.

  “You want to stay on the team?” Han kicks the ground, sending chunks of muddy earth into the air and splattering against my uniform. “Then beg for it. On your knees.”

  For a heartbeat, I think he’s jesting, but one look at his hard blue-gray eyes tells me the man means every word. Not out of vengeance or mindless fury, but sheer calculation—as if I were a dog whose nose he intends to rub in a carpet mess. My gut clenches, my pride clashing against my mission. Before I can decide, however, Tye grabs the back of my shirt and forces me down to the ground with iron strength, not stopping until my knees and then my face are ground into the mud. His lips brush my ear as grit slides into my mouth and eyes.

  “Do it,” Tye demands. “Beg or quit. Choose, Leralynn.”

  Something inside me snaps, the feel of Tye’s hand on my back suddenly more despicable than Han’s presence. I shared myself with this bastard—my body and my soul—and now he’s grinding both into the mud as if I’m a bug under his shoe. I don’t deserve this. No one does. And maybe that’s the point, the final period at the sentence’s end. We are done, Tye and I. From this moment and forever.

  Everything inside me coils, and it’s all I can do to keep from turning and driving my fist right into his jaw. Except the bastard isn’t worth it. I need to stay on the Prowess team for reasons that have nothing to do with him. And now, never will.

  “Please, Master Han.” I raise my face from the mud only so far as to ensure my words carry, shouting through the pounding rain. “Forgive my impertinence at the mock exams earlier and permit me to stay.”

  My heart pounds as Han’s boots close with my face, Tye still gripping my shirt.

  “Kiss them.” Han sticks the dirty toe beneath my nose, shredding my dignity a bit deeper with every breath.

  For a moment, my fingers grip the mud, itching to flip the man onto his back, but I overrule them, pressing my lips against the dirty leather.

  Han snorts. “Animals. All alike at the core.” Stepping back, he straightens his rain-drenched tunic. “Good enough. Tyelor, run her for two hours on the arena steps to encourage a change in attitude, and we will consider the matter closed.”

  Tye’s grip on me releases as Han walks away, and I am on my feet in a moment, a handful of dirt I’d pulled into my palm flying directly into Tye’s nose. The caked mud lands with a sticky thwap, covering his freckles and one sharp cheekbone.

  “I hope you enjoyed the show.” My voice is so cold, I barely recognize it. “It would be a shame to have wasted the opportunity.”

  “You’re welcome.” Tye rolls back on his heels, the pounding rain already washing his face clean. Despite the attempt at nonchalance, his jaw is tight, the muscles vibrating along the side of his face. His voice drops, and I wonder if he didn’t feel it too, that moment when the bridge between us cracked and fell into a cold abyss. “Had you let your mouth run, the afternoon would have been a great deal more painful.”

  “Noted.” I jerk my chin at the arena steps. “You heard our master. Lead the way.”

  “Stars damn it, lass.” Closing the distance, Tye grabs my arm, his lips pulling back from his teeth. “You could have walked away. No one is forcing you to stay on the team—but if you choose to, you play by Han’s rules. Believe me, you are fortunate to have been reminded of this by me rather than by him.”

  “Oh, so that’s why you ground my face into the mud?—To protect me from the fierce Prowess coach? I should be thanking you on my knees, no doubt.”

  “Lera—”

  I yank my arm away just as lightning cracks the dark sky, outlining the keep’s jutting tower in eerie detail. “One—don’t touch me. Two—I’m not out here to talk.”

  “Don’t be an idiot, Lera. You barely walked down the keep’s dry steps. Run these, and you’ll break your neck.” Tye shakes his head, soaked red hair flying. “Just wait here. If Han cared enough, he’d have stayed.”

  Turning my back to the male, I hop onto the first of the impossibly long row of benches letting the cold rain keep me anchored. I don’t want Tye’s favors. Or words. Or anything to do with him. My wet boots pound the wooden steps, the slippery surface taking all my concentration. Overhead, thunder claps its hands as if urging me to move faster.

  “Leralynn.” Running up with soul-deadening ease beside me, Tye shouts over the rain. “Stop before you hurt yourself.”

  I run higher, the pelt pelt pelt of my boots hitting wet wood echoing through my bones. Faster. Inside me, the cords of magic flail in their shackles, the occasional escaping lash of power sending out sparks, which sizzle and die in the rain.

  The next time lightning strikes, it silhouettes Tye’s lithe form snatching for me at the top tier of the arena’s wooden bleachers.

  “Go to hell!” I jerk away before Tye’s hand can connect, my boot catching a patch of slippery wood. My breath stops. My knee gives way, my body weight pulling me down to my right shoulder—except there is only air there. With a swallowed yell, I fall from the top of the arena bleachers to the earth below.

  “Tiga!” Tye’s shout follows me down, the last syllable hitting just as my back lands on the wet ground, my arms slapping out on instinct to dispel some of the force.

  The deafening thud ripples through my whole frame, the world blurring through stinging rain and shock.

  For a moment, all I can do is gasp for air. As my lungs slowly refill, I assess the damage. Between the soft earth, my immortal body, and a head full of good fortune, I’m more dazed than hurt. As I blink myself back to awareness, I see Tye vaulting from the top of the bleachers to land beside me in a crouch, his emerald eyes fevered with a terror that my cotton-filled mind doesn’t share.

  “No,” Tye whispers, his hands on my shoulders. “Not again. Please.”

  “Get off me.” I shove him away, noting distantly that his lithe body gives easily beneath
my push, the male coming to rest on his knees in a puddle. His shoulders shake, his breath as ragged and fast as the streams of water running down his cheeks.

  In another world, I’d ask after him. In this one, I pull myself slowly to my feet and trudge away without a backward glance.

  14

  Zake

  Standing by the window of a servants’ corridor inside Great Falls Academy’s keep, Zake—an invisible servants’ master inspecting his underlings’ pitiful work—watched the arena through the sheet of falling rain.

  The stars truly had a wicked sense of humor. Every coin of golden fortune that had hit his palm in the past year had had a layer of muck on the other side, while the puddles of dung he’d stepped in had jewels beneath. The present situation was a perfect example.

  Never in his life had Zake—the man destined for immortality’s kiss, the lord of the only estate daring to stand sentinel at Mystwood’s edge—imagined himself donning the rags of servitude now covering his muscled body. And yet, the disguised post turned out to brim with the one power that evened out all battlefields: information. Which Zake had gathered more of in the last hour than Owalin had in the past year.

  First, the wench who’d led Zake on for years, abusing his kindness and generosity to steal his birthright from right underneath his nose, was here. Flaunting her—his—immortality as she scurried about like one of Han’s silly little racing pets. Second, and perhaps even more interesting, no one but Zake seemed aware of this fact. Even Han himself seemed to believe that both Leralynn and the redheaded male currently kneeling in the mud, of all things, were human.

  Even without seeing the male’s pointed ears and ethereal beauty, Zake well remembered the bastard’s face from when he and his friends had shown up at Zake’s estate and robbed him blind. Given how that day had gone, Zake recalled the friends less clearly, but no matter. This in itself was interesting enough.

  Initially, Zack had considered going to Owalin to discover just how much the revelation of Han’s incompetence was worth to the Night Guard leader. But that was an amateur move, something an underling who licked the immortals’ boots would do. Leralynn and that male beside her had some kind of magic that veiled the eyes and minds of everyone but him—and Zake would learn the how and the why of it before bartering such information, showing Owalin that Zack was no less than a peer.

  But that would come later. Before Owalin or anyone else got their paws on Leralynn, Zake needed to have a private conversation with the girl to whom he’d opened his home and heart before she’d ripped it to shreds. They’d have words of reckoning. Of forgiveness, perhaps, if she repented truly and accepted the punishment due. And then, she’d tell him everything.

  Knowledge was power. By the time the Night Guard was ready to descend upon the scurrying Academy mice, Zake alone would hold all the keys.

  Tilting his head, he watched Leralynn stumble through the rain for a few more moments before turning away with a chuckle. So many times, he’d cursed the stars for the girl’s betrayal, and yet here that very betrayal was, bearing gifts.

  Zake licked his lips, savoring the soon-to-come time when he’d get the wench alone.

  15

  Lera

  Ta da daaa da daaa da dadaa!

  The exhilarating call of the trumpet burst from the Academy gates, summoning a party of liveried servants racing to greet yet another royal arrival, a lapis-blue carriage with gold accents drawn by six pure-white horses. Another high-value target for the Night Guard’s picking. With the opening ceremonies for the Prowess Trials officially happening tomorrow afternoon, today is about greetings and logistics for the royals.

  For the cadets, today is about the start of exams.

  Arisha and I join the stream of students heading from breakfast straight toward the arena, all silent or murmuring quietly instead of the usual loud chatter. Even with each cadet presenting on only a single, randomly chosen question, the sheer number of students ensures the gambit will run for days on end—a side attraction for the visitors to enjoy between bouts of athletics. While a mere option for our royal guests, attendance at the first exam session this morning is mandatory for all students. Those who know they’re not facing exams today are visibly relieved, some even carrying books and notes under their arms so they can study surreptitiously during the exams.

  Thanks to River, I’m near last on the list—though, despite Arisha’s urging, I’ve not bothered to eat anything this morning anyway. Even with each spare moment between Han’s training sessions spent in intense tutoring under either Arisha’s or River’s watchful eye, my chances of passing the exams are one in two at best.

  Ta da daaa da daaa da dadaa! Ta da daaa da daaa da dadaa!

  I push Arisha from the path of a harried-looking young man with a basket of wet towels and bottles of chilled wine rushing to greet their royal highnesses of whatever kingdom is now arriving in a cloud of dust and whinnying. Some royals themselves, having settled into their rooms and changed out of travel clothes, have now joined the crowd in the courtyard, milling about in colorful groups or drifting into the arena for the morning’s entertainment. Their fashions represent every corner of the kingdom, from stunningly simple silk gowns and jeweled tiaras to elaborately embroidered robes with headdresses to match. One beautiful, olive-skinned noble wears what looks like an actual snake coiled around her neck, which she strokes and coos at lovingly. Three enormous peacock feathers jut out of her chignon, waving pleasantly in the summer breeze.

  Another set of servants nearly bowls us over, carrying goblets and fruit and messages of personal greeting toward the keep from the headmaster. In the distance, a man with wiry dark hair appears to be yelling at yet another group of new servants, and though I can’t make out the yeller’s face, the way the crew seems to cringe away tells me enough of his personality.

  When the yeller sticks his thumbs into his belt in a way that reminds me too much of Zake, I turn my back to the group. The mix of nerves, training, and waiting has done little good for my nightmares, and now I’m seeing the man’s image even when I’m awake. Stop it, I order my mind. In addition to there being no reason for Zake to step foot into Great Falls, the man I saw wore a servant’s uniform, not a lord’s coat. There are plenty of real threats to go around without adding imagined ones to the mix.

  “Are you all right?” Arisha asks. Her chances of being tested this morning are high, barring any unforeseen disruption, but unlike the other students, she seems cool and collected, even excited. Though I know she tries to hide it for my sake.

  Shaking off the illusion, I rub my face and conjure a smile before Arisha can worry. “Do we really need all these people every time the gate opens? You’d think it would be more efficient to guide the guests to the wine than chase them with the bottles.”

  “Protocol.” Arisha fidgets in her pretty cap-sleeved dress, a light blue linen—which I envy just now. The red-and-gold uniform of the Prowess team is smoldering hot, the high standing neckline and thick sash around the waist doing nothing to ward off the sweltering sun. The only one possibly worse off is Coal, who refuses to let go of his signature black just to accommodate the weather.

  I stop a frown before it touches my face. Coal, who has been doing nightly patrols, reported the same thing we’ve seen for two months now—the forest is quiet. Too quiet.

  “Look over there,” Arisha says, pointing with her chin toward a small group gathered in the shade of the towering arena wall.

  As I turn, my gaze lands on a familiar muscled back that draws the attention of every female—and several males—on the Academy grounds. Unruly red hair shining in the bright sun, Tye stands beside Katita and an older man who—as the portrait in every Academy classroom informs me—is none other than His Majesty, King Zenith of Ckridel. Not that I need the portrait to tell me—his thick white hair is perfectly coiffed under a tasteful gold crown, his turquoise eyes and patrician features a thicker, more masculine version of Katita’s. A team of five guards stands at a
respectful distance, their sharp attention raking every blade of grass in their charge’s vicinity.

  His hands articulating in the air, King Zenith seems to be telling Tye an animated story. The tall male bends down to listen, only to lean back with a full-chested laugh a moment later, the king clapping his shoulder—clearly a bit dazzled by Tye’s beauty, as most people are when they first meet him. Tye’s smile fades, however, when the king points behind him, his hand beckoning …me.

  Summoning a polite smile that I hope communicates something other than my desire to be most anywhere else, I approach the group.

  “Ah, and here is another gold-and-red uniform I’ve not yet had the pleasure of meeting.” King Zenith smiles welcomingly as I approach. “And who would you be, my dear?”

  “Leralynn of Osprey, Father,” Katita answers for me before I have a chance to complete my bow. “Who won’t be wearing that uniform too much longer if she keeps standing out here.” The princess’s sugar-sweet voice drops as if filling me in on a secret. “Didn’t you see the new exam schedule?—You are in the first batch. In fact—we’ll all come with you for moral support.”

  My stomach drops. Throwing manners to the wind, I turn my back on the king himself and rush to the board listing the testing roster.

  Sure enough, my name is there, right at the front of the list, where it wasn’t only an hour ago. The change is written in River’s own hand. What the bloody hell happened?

  My heart hammers. I was supposed to have two days until facing the exams—three if things stretched longer than expected. Which all had a fighting chance of giving me enough time to protect the Academy before being expelled from it. Now… Panic makes it impossible to think clearly. I look around for Arisha, only to catch sight of her back disappearing into the arena, taking her place in the stands as she’s supposed to. The bell atop the keep tolls the hour.