I will not die today.
-Violet Sorrengail's Personal Addendum
To The Book of Brennan
She is so completely screwed.
Xaden steps forward—all six-foot-everything of him—dressed in midnight fighting leathers and a tight-fitted short-sleeve shirt that only seems to make the shimmering, dark rebellion relics on his skin seem like an even bigger warning, which I know is ridiculous but somehow true.
My heartbeat kicks up to a full gallop, as if my body knows the truth my mind hasn't quite accepted yet. I'm about to watch Violet get her ass kicked...or worse.
"You are all in for a treat," Professor Emetterio says, clapping his hands. "Xaden's one of the best fighters we have. Watch and learn."
"Of course you are," I mutter, my stomach twisting like I'm the one who's been snacking on walwyn fruit peels.
A corner of Xaden's mouth rises in a smirk, and the gold flecks in his eyes seem to dance. The sadistic ass is enjoying this.
I had Violet's knees, ankles, and wrist wrapped up, the white cloth protecting her healing thumb a startling contrast against the black leathers.
"A little out of her league, don't you think?" Dain argues from the side of the mat, tension radiating from every word.
"Relax, Aetos." Xaden looks over her shoulder, his gaze hardening toward where Dain is standing, where he always stands when Violet is on the mat. The look Xaden gives him makes me realize he's been taking it easy on me in the glaring department. "She'll be in one piece when I'm finished teaching her."
"I hardly think it's fair—" Dain's voice rises.
"No one asked you to think, squad leader," Xaden fires back as he moves to the side, discarding every weapon on his body—and there's a lot of them—and handing them to Imogen.
The bitter, illogical taste of jealousy fills my mouth, but there's no time to examine that particular oddity, not when there're only seconds before he's in front of Violet again.
"You don't think you'll need those?" she asks, palming her blades. His chest is massive, with wide shoulders and heavily muscled arms alongside. A target that big should be easy to hit.
"Nope. Not when you brought enough for the both of us." A wicked smile curves his mouth as he stretches out his hand and curls his fingers in a come-hither motion. "Let's go."
My heart beats faster than the wings of a hummingbird as I watch Violet take her fighting stance and wait for him to strike. This mat is only twenty feet in either direction, and yet my entire world narrows to its confines and the danger within.
He's not in her squad. He can kill her without punishment.
I watch Violet fling a dagger straight at his ridiculously well-sculpted chest.
He fucking catches it and clucks his tongue. "Already seen that move."
Holy shit is he fast.
She has to move faster. It's the single advantage she might have—that's my only thought as I watch her move forward in a swipe-and-kick combo Rhianna and I drilled into her over the past six weeks. He artfully dodges the blade and then captures her leg. The earth spins and she gets slammed onto her back, the sudden impact driving the air out of her lungs.
But he doesn't go for the kill. Instead, he drops the dagger he's caught and kicks it off the mat towards me, and a second later, when air squeaks back into her lungs, lunging up with the next blade, going for his thigh.
He blocks the strike with his forearm, then grips her wrist with his opposite hand and plucks the knife out of her hand, leaning down so his face is only inches from hers. "Going for blood today, are we, Violence?" he whispers. Metal hits the mat again and he kicks it past Violet's head and into my reach.
The jealousy at the nickname he gave Vi is starting to get to me as I continue to watch the match, now that I can see he isn't taking her daggers to use against her; he's disarming her just to prove he can.
"My name is Violet," I watch Violet seethes.
"I think my version fits you better." He releases her wrist and stands, offering her a hand. "We're not done yet."
Vi's chest heaves, still recovering from the way he knocked the wind out of her, and she takes the offering. He tugs her to her feet, then twists her arm behind her back and yanks her against his hard chest, pinning their joined hands before she had a chance to get her balance.
"Damn it!" She snaps.
Liam and I exchange a mutual look of forced non-jealousy as we watch Xaden tug another of Violet's daggers off her thigh, before pressing it to her throat as his chest rests against the back of her head. His forearm is locked across her ribs, and he might as well be a statue for all the give there is in his frame. There's no use for Violet to slam her head back—he's so tall that it would only annoy him.
I am forced to watch Xaden whisper against the shell of her ear, and even though they are surrounded by people, I realize he's quiet for a reason. This lesson is just for Violet.
He drops the third dagger he's taken from her and kicks it forward—to where Dain stands, the other two already in mine hands. There's murder in his eyes as he glares at Xaden.
"I'm the one who decides when to grant that favor. Not you." Xaden releases her hand and steps back.
Vi whirls, punching for his throat, and he knocks her hand aside.
"Good," he says with a smile, deflecting her next blow without so much as a hitch to his breath. "Going for the throat is your best option, as long as it's exposed."
Fury makes her kick out again in the same pattern, muscle memory taking over, and he captures that leg again, this time snatching the dagger sheathed there and dropping it to the mat before he lets her go, cocking a disappointed eyebrow at her. "I expect you to learn from your mistakes." He kicks it away.
She only have five left, all sheathed at her ribs.
Gripping one and putting her hands up defensively, she begins to circle him, and to my absolute annoyance, he doesn't even bother facing her. He just stands there in the center of the mat, his boots planted and his arms loose as she moves around him.
"You going to prance or are you going to strike?"
Fuck him.
Violet punches forward, but he dips and her knife sails over his shoulder, missing him by six inches. My stomach drops as he grips her arm, yanking her forward and flipping her around the side of his body. She is airborne for a heartbeat before she smacks into the mat, her ribs taking the impact.
He cranks her arm into a submission hold and white-hot pain shoots down the limb as I watch her cry out, dropping the dagger, but he's not done. No, his knee is in her ribs and, though he holds her arm captive with one hand, the other plucks a dagger from its sheath and flings it toward Dain's feet before taking another and holding it to the tender area where her jaw meets her neck.
Then he leans closer. "Taking out your enemy before the battle is really smart; I'll give that to you," he whispers, his warm breath brushing the shell of my ear.
Oh gods. He knows what she has been doing. Nausea is churning in my stomach at the thought of what he might do with that knowledge.
"Problem is, if you aren't testing yourself in here"—he scrapes the dagger down her neck, but there's no trickle of blood, so I know he hasn't cut her —"then you're not going to get any better."
"You'd rather I die, no doubt," she fires back, the side of her face pressed into the mat. That isn't just painful, it's humiliating.
"And be denied the pleasure of your company?" he mocks.
"I fucking hate you." The words are past her lips before she can shut her mouth.
"That doesn't make you special." He tells her while making eye contact with me, finally.
The pressure releases from her chest and arm as he gets on his feet, kicking both daggers toward Dain.
Two more. Violet only have two more, and now her indignation and anger far outweigh her fear.
Ignoring Xaden's outstretched hand, she gets to her feet and his lips curve into an approving smile. "She can be taught."
"She's a quick learner," she retorts.
"That remains to be seen." He backs up two steps, putting a little space between them before crooking his fingers at her again.
"You've made your damn point," she snaps loud enough that I hear Imogen gasp.
"Trust me, I've barely gotten started." He folds his arms and leans back on his heels, clearly waiting for her to move.
She doesn't think. Just acts, going low and kicking out the backs of his knees.
He goes down like a tree, the sound more than satisfying, and she pounces, trying for a headlock. Doesn't matter how big someone is—they still need air. Catching his throat in the crook of her elbow, she squeezes.
Instead of going for her arms, he twists, grabbing ahold of the backs of her thighs so she loses her leverage and their bodies careen into a roll. He comes out on top.
Of course he does. I roll my eyes.
His forearm rests against her throat, not cutting off air but definitely capable of it, and his hips have hers pinned, legs useless on either side of his as he lies heavily between her thighs. He's unmovable.
Everything around fades as my world narrows to the arrogant glint in his gaze. He's all I can see. What I wouldn't give to fight him like that...
But Violet won't let him win.
She slips one of her last daggers free and go for his shoulder.
He seizes her wrist and pins it above her head.
Flames lick her cheeks as he lowers his face so his lips are only inches away from hers.
My breath catches and my body warms, the traitorous bitch really is jealous. You are not attracted to toxic men, I remind myself, and yet, here I am, getting all attracted. I have been since the first second I saw him, if I feel like being honest.
He pushes his fingers into Violet's fist, forcing it open, then sends the blade skittering across the mat before letting go of her wrists.
"Get your dagger," he orders.
"What?" Her eyes fly wide. He has her defenseless and in the kill position already.
"Get. Your. Dagger," he repeats, taking her hand in his and retrieving the last blade she has. His fingers curl over hers, clasping the hilt.
Fire races along my skin at the sight of his fingers lacing with hers.
Toxic. Dangerous. Wants to kill you. Nope, doesn't matter. My pulse still skitters like a teenager.
"You're tiny." He says it like an insult.
"Well aware." Violet's eyes narrow.
"So stop going for bigger moves that expose you." He drags the tip of the dagger down his side. "A rib shot would have worked just fine." Then he guides their hands around his back, making himself vulnerable. "Kidneys are a good fit from this angle, too."
He leads their hands to his waist, his gaze never leaving hers. "Chances are, if your opponent is in armor, it's weak here. Those are three easy places you could have struck before your opponent would have had time to stop you."
They're also fatal wounds, and she has avoided those at all costs.
"Do you hear me?"
She nods.
"How did you know?" She finally asks. Muscles locked, including her thighs, which just happen to still be bracketing his hips.
His eyes darken. "Oh, Violence, you're good, but I've known better poison masters. The trick is to not make it quite so obvious."
Her lips part, and she bites back a retort that she was careful not to be obvious.
"I think she's been taught enough for the day," Dain barks, reminding them that they're far from alone. No, they're a damned spectacle.
"He always that overprotective?" Xaden grumbles, pressing up from the mat a few inches.
"He cares about me." She glares at him.
"He's holding you back. Don't worry. Your little poisoning secret is safe with me." Xaden arches a brow as if to remind her that she's the keeper of one of his secrets, too. Then he guides their hands back to her ribs and slides the ruby-hilted blade back into its sheath.
The move is unnervingly...hot.
"You're not going to disarm me?" She challenges as he releases his grip and pushes up more, removing his weight from her body. Her ribs expand as she takes her first full breath.
"Nope. Defenseless women have never been my type. Besides, I'm only doing this as a favor for someone else. We're done for today." He stands, making eye contact with me once again, then walks away without another word, taking his weapons back from Imogen as Violet rolls to her knees.
There's pure relief in Dain's eyes when she reaches his side to retrieve the daggers Xaden threw to him. "You all right?"
She nods, her fingers trembling as she rearms herself. He's had every chance, and every reason, to kill us, and now he's let her walk away twice. What kind of game is he playing?
"Aetos," Xaden calls out from across the mat.
Dain's head snaps up and his jaw locks.
"She could use a little less protection and a little more instruction." Xaden stares Dain down until he nods.
Professor Emetterio calls the next challenge. "Melgren, Mairi, your challenge partners were also taken to the healers. So, you can either pick a new partner, or fight each other."
Liam and I look at each other, smirking. We have wanted to fight each other for a while. We are the best two in our year, so we have been interested in seeing who would win in a fair fight. Not to mention, we need to work out our anger and jealousy after watching the Xaden/Violet display.
"We would like to fight each other, Professor Emetterio," Liam informs our teacher, just as Xaden turns around to watch.
"Aelin, you sure?" Professor Emetterio double checks with me.
"Yes, sir." I confirm.
He just nods, and gestures for us to take our places on the mats.
We circle each other, "What are you going to do when you lose, Aelin?"
"As if Liam, I don't lose." I wink playfully at him, out of the corner of my eye, I see Xaden's fist clench before he crosses his arms.
And then he attacked.
I've contemplated his blows since assessment day, the way he moved, the swiftness and angles. So, I dodged the first blow, sidestepping his fist, before twisting far enough in the other direction to avoid the second strike. One quick sweep of his foot has me falling, before I roll out of the way and jumping back to my feet. He takes his knife out and tosses it at my head, but I spin out of the way, allowing it to fly past my head and forcing Xaden to catch it before it hits him in the shoulder. Liam doesn't give me a moment, constantly pushing, slowly getting faster, playing.
This whole time, I have been playing defense. I don't bother really trying. This is just fun for me, and it shows in the way Liam and I are fighting each other.
"Stop playing and end the fight already, Liam," Xaden yells from the sidelines, causing Liam to pull out another knife.
"Ace, kick his ass!" Violet cheers me on.
I roll my eyes, pull out a knife, and start actually fighting. My breaths moved in and out in steady trained motion. My grip on my knife tightened as I brought it up and stepped to the side with a quick strike. Liam blocked it, but his knife came dangerously close to his face, and his grin dropped. He underestimated her strength. She swung again, the clink of their blades slamming against one another echoed around the mats. Then again and again, they circled, striking, blocking over and over, high and low. He favored his right side heavily.
Sweat beaded on my brow. My steady heart was a calming sound as it pounded in my ears. They hit again but this time they pushed in a battle of strength. I sidestep again, using the momentum to shove him in the back.
The circle of cadets are all shouting, some for me, some for Liam.
"Knock his ass into the mats!" Rhi bellows.
He turns around and came at me with quick strikes. I block everything he throws at me, the drop low and swing my leg out. It caught his foot and he stumbled backward but didn't fall. Damn it. I struck with a downward slice and again at his ribs and it got through, smacking into him hard. I expected him to block it and didn't pull back enough and it cut into his side. Liam cried out; I jerked my knife back and dropped it. The clang of it reverberating loudly in the silence.
"I'm so sorry!" I gush and go to check his wound.
Holding his side, Liam slid his knife up to my neck, the cold metal like ice against my flesh. "Don't ever drop your weapon."
In my haste to see if I had hurt him badly, I did the one thing I never should have, but this wasn't a real fight. Against a gryphon rider I never would drop my weapon. "How bad are you hurt? I don't care about who won right now."
Liam's face blanched white and he put his arm around me, forcing me to bear most of his weight. "I'm fine. It's a scratch."
"I don't think so," I murmur.
Xaden, Imogen, Violet, and Rhiannon run forward and surround us, "Aelin won with that blow. The fight would have been stopped," Violet argued.
"No, she dropped her knife before it was called," Imogen argued back.
Liam pulled his arm from me and took a few slow steps, until Xaden steps up and pulls him into his grasp.
"Sir, who won?" Dain smirks at Emetterio.
He gives me an apologetic look. "According to the rules, Liam won since Aelin dropped her sword and he put his blade to her neck before it was called."
A bunch of cadets booed. "She whipped his ass. He was on the defense once she actually tried," someone in the crowd shouted.
Dain turns his smirk on me, "Get ready for your punishment Melgren. You lost."
Everyone looks between Professor Emetterio, Dain, and I.
"I know my place Squad Leader, learn yours." I tell him before turning to Emetterio, "I need to get Liam to the healers, and you have a challenge day to finish. I will meet you for my punishment at the same place as last time?"
"Yeah, I have to call the general anyway." He nods and walks away, while I help Xaden take Liam to the healers.
...
"Will you tell me what these punishments are yet?" Liam asks while Xaden carries him down the hall to the healers quadrant.
"It's nothing you need to worry about. Just something the general demands if I lose or cause problems. It's nothing I can't handle. You need to heal." I smile at him, holding doors open for them as we go.
"The last time you had a punishment, it sounded bad. All the adults were upset, Dain was a dick, and the healer said something about not being able to heal you after." Xaden watches me closely, while Liam is talking.
"Dain is always a dick to me," I laugh softly, before knocking on the door.
The healers open the door and take Liam before he can protest anymore, while Xaden and I are blocked from entering and sent back to the Rider's Quadrant. We don't speak, and I get away from him as soon as I can, going out to where the punishment took place last time.
"Professor Emetterio," I nod as I take off my dragon scale vest and top. "Codagh."
Emetterio looks at me sadly, "You know I don't have a choice, Aelin? I don't like this, in fact I hate it. It makes me uncomfortable and upset-"
"Please stop rambling. I know that no one except the king can say no to a direct order from the general. I'm not upset with you, lets just get it over with, yeah?" I smile kindly at him, trying to make him feel even just the slightest bit better.
He just nods and ties my arms to the trees on either side of me, leaving me kneeling on the ground. He walks to the end of the row of trees and keeps his back turned to me, allowing Codagh to take his place behind me.
Codagh gets too excited about doing this to me once again, and when the fire starts, it feels like it will never stop. He doesn't aim his fire to just my back this time, instead, burning my arms, back, and neck. The ropes around my wrists catch fire too, and once the only holding me up is gone, so am I.
...
I don't know how long it has been since I feel unconscious, but when I come too, Professor Emetterio is still there. Sitting next to me in the dark, head in his hands with his dragon wrapped around him like a blanket.
"You didn't have to stay," I scare him awake.
"Yeah, I did." He states and his dragon even nods her head as he stands up.
"If you don't mind, I'm going to stay out here for a while again?" I ask.
"Do what you have to do, Aelin. I'm just glad Codagh didn't kill you."
I smile at him and lay down for a little while longer as he climbs on his dragons back and they fly away together.
...
Next time I wake up, it is time for kitchen duty. I get dressed quickly, and limping, I make it to the kitchen with seconds to spare. Violet greets me happily, telling me about her night spent in Dains room, where he gave her a back massage *Gag*
Most importantly, when she snuck back to her dorm, she ran into Liam on his way back from the Healers Quadrant. He was all fixed up and excited for the next leg in our training. Challenges have been put on hold, while we train to run the Gauntlet, so we can go onto Threshing in a few weeks.
After kitchen duty, I catch up with Liam. We spend our classes joking around and just relaxing, gossiping about the challenges and why everyone thought we would hate each other after our fight. Once that topic had been exhausted, we moved onto the Gauntlet. What we thought it was going to look like, how difficult and/or easy it would be. None of the teachers bothered to even look at me today or tell me off for not paying attention, knowing about last night. It feels like everyone knows about last night, but no one can. I have long sleeves on and a high collar, good thing it is chilly out today.
...
I look up, and up, and up, excitement coiling in my stomach like a snake ready to strike.
"Well, that's..." Liam swallows, his head tilted just as far back as mine as we stare at the menacing obstacle course that's carved into the front of a ridgeline so steep, it might as well be a cliff. The zigzagging death trap of a trail rises above us, climbing in five distinct switchbacks of 180-degree turns, each increasing in difficulty on the way to the top of the bluff that divides the citadel from the flight field and the Vale.
"Amazing." Tara sighs.
"You think that hellscape looks amazing?" Liam asks.
"I've been waiting years for this!" Tara grins, her normally serious black eyes dancing in the morning sun as she rubs her hands together, shifting from one toned leg to the other in glee. "My dad—he was a rider until he retired last year—used to set up obstacle courses like this all the time so we could practice, and Chase, my brother, said it's the best part of being here before Threshing. It's a real adrenaline rush."
"He's with the Southern Wing, right?" I ask, focusing on the obstacle course running up the side of a fucking cliff. It looks more like a death trap in an adrenaline rush package. Positive thinking for the win and all that, right?
"Yep. Pretty much desk duty for all the action they see near the Krovlan border." She shrugs and points about two-thirds up the course. "He said to watch out for those giant posts jutting from the side of the cliff. They spin, and you can get crushed between them if you're not fast enough."
"Oh, good, I was wondering when it might get difficult," Liam mutters.
"Thanks, Tara." I locate the series of nearly touching, three-foot-wide logs that jut out from the rocky terrain like a set of round steps rising from the ground to the switchback above it and nod. Go fast. Got it.
But you've already made it this far. Ahh, there she is, the little voice that's been riding my shoulder lately, daring to give me hope that I might actually survive Presentation.
"Still not sure why they call it the Gauntlet," Nadine says from my right, blowing into her cupped hands to ward off the morning chill. The sun hasn't touched this little crevice, but it's shining above the last quarter of the course.
"To ensure dragons keep coming to Threshing by weeding out the weaklings." Tynan sneers from Nadine's other side, folding his arms over his chest as he casts a pointed look at Violet.
I shoot him a glare and then shake it off. He's been pissy ever since I handed his ass to him on the mat during our first challenge.
"Knock it the fuck off," Nadine snaps, earning the entire squad's attention.
My eyebrows lift. I've never seen Nadine lose her temper or use anything but humor to defuse a situation before.
"What's your problem?" Tynan shoves a strand of thick, dark hair from his eyes and pivots like he's going to stare some intimidation into Nadine, but it doesn't really work out.
"My problem? You think because you made friends with Barlowe and Siefert that you have the right to be a dick to your own squadmate?" Nadine challenges.
"Exactly. Squadmate." Tynan gestures toward the obstacle course. "Our times aren't just ranked individually, Nadine. We're scored as a squad, too, which is how the order for Presentation is decided. Do you really think any dragon wants to bond a cadet who walks in after every other squad in the processional?"
Fine, he has a point. It's a shitty one, but it's there.
"They're not timing us for Presentation today, asshole." Nadine takes a step forward.
"Stop." Sawyer shuffles between the two, shoving Tynan's chest hard enough to make him stagger back into the girl behind him. "Take it from someone who made it through Presentation last year: your time doesn't mean anything. The last cadet to walk in last year bonded just fine, and some of the cadets in the first squad onto the field were passed over."
"Little bitter about that, aren't you?" Tynan smirks.
Sawyer ignores the barb. "Besides, it's not called the Gauntlet because it weeds out cadets."
"It's called the Gauntlet because this is the cliff that guards the Vale," Professor Emetterio says, walking up behind our squad, his shaved head glinting in the growing sunlight. "Plus, actual gauntlets—armored gloves made of metal—are slippery as hell, and the name stuck about twenty years ago." He cocks a brow at Tynan and Sawyer. "Are you two done arguing? Because all nine of you have exactly an hour to get to the top before it's another squad's chance to practice, and from what I've seen of your agility on the mat, you're going to need every second."
There's a grumble of assent in our little group.
"As you know, hand-to-hand challenges are on hold for the next two and a half weeks before Presentation so you can focus here." Professor Emetterio flips a page on the little notebook he carries. "Sawyer, you're going to show them how it's done, since you already have the lay of the land. Then Pryor, Tara, Tynan, Liam, Nadine, Aelin, Aurelie, and Luca." A smile curves the harsh line of his mouth as he finishes calling out every name in our squad, and we file into order. "You're the only squad to remain intact since Parapet. That's incredible. Your squad leader must be very proud. Wait here for a second." He walks past us, waving at someone high up on the cliff.
No doubt that someone has a watch.
"Riorson is especially proud of Melgren." Tynan gifts me with a mocking sneer once our instructor is out of hearing range.
I smirk. "Look, if you want to talk shit do it. But remember who is your wingleader."
"Tynan," Sawyer warns, shaking his head.
"Like it doesn't bother any of you that our wingleader is fucking one of us?" Tynan throws out his hands.
"I'm not sleeping with him, he would kill me before that would ever happen," I laugh, indignation getting the best of me before I can take a deep breath. "Honestly, it's none of your godsdamned business who I'm sleeping with anyway, Tynan." Though if I'm going to get accused, can't I have some of the perks?
"It is if it means you get preferential treatment!" Luca adds in.
"For fuck's sake," Liam mumbles, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Luca, Tynan, shut up. They're not sleeping together. They've been enemies since they met, or do you not know enough about our own history to know his dad is dead because of hers?"
Tynan's eyes widen, like he's actually surprised. "Really?"
"Really." I shake my head and study the course.
"Shit. I'm...sorry. Barlowe said—"
"And that's your first mistake," Nadine interjects. "Listening to that sadistic ass is going to get you killed. And you're lucky Riorson isn't here."
True. Xaden would more than take exception to Tynan's assumptions and probably kill him and me to put an end to it. Good thing he's on the flight field this time of day.
I blink, shoving any other thought of Xaden Riorson far out of my head.
"Here we go!" Professor Emetterio walks to the head of our line. "You'll get your time at the top of the course, if you make it, but remember, you'll still have nine practice sessions before we rank you for Presentation in two and a half weeks, which will determine if the dragons find you worthy at Threshing."
"Wouldn't it make more sense to let first-years start practicing this thing right after Parapet?" Liam asks. "You know, to give us a little more time so we don't die?"
"No," Professor Emetterio replies. "The timing is part of the challenge. Any words of wisdom, Sawyer?"
Sawyer blows out a slow breath, his gaze following the treacherous course. "There are ropes every six feet that run from the top of the sheer cliffside to the bottom," he says. "So if you start to fall, reach out and grab a rope. It'll cost you thirty seconds, but death costs you more."
Awesome.
"I mean, there's a perfectly good set of steps over there." Nadine points to the steep staircase carved into the cliff beside the wide switchbacks of the Gauntlet.
"Stairs are for reaching the flight field on the top of the ridgeline after Presentation," Professor Emetterio says, then lifts his hands toward the course and flicks his wrist, pointing at various obstacles.
The fifteen-foot log at the start of the uphill climb begins to spin. The pillars on the third ascent shake. The giant wheel at the first switchback starts its counterclockwise rotation, and those little posts Tara mentioned? They all twist in opposite directions.
"Every one of the five ascents on this course is designed to mimic the challenges you'll face in battle." Professor Emetterio turns to look at us, his face just as stern as it is during our usual combat training. "From the balance you must keep on the back of your dragon, to the strength you'll need to hold your seat during maneuvers, to"—he gestures upward, toward the last obstacle that looks like a ninety-degree ramp from this angle—"the stamina you'll need to fight on the ground, then still be able to mount your dragon at a second's notice."
The posts knock a chunk of granite loose, and the rock tumbles down the course, smacking every obstacle in its path until it crashes twenty feet in front of us. If there was ever a metaphor for my life, well...that's it.
"Whoa," Luca whispers, his brown eyes wide as he stares at the pulverized rock. I'm the smallest of our squad, but Tara is the quietest, the most reserved. I can count on both hands the number of times she's spoken to me since Parapet. If she didn't have friends in First Wing, I'd worry, but she doesn't have to open up to us to survive the quadrant.
"You all right?" I ask her in a whisper.
She swallows and nods, one of her auburn ringlet curls bouncing against her forehead.
"What if we can't make it up?" Luca asks from my right, securing his long hair in a loose braid, his usual haughtiness not so in-your-face today. "What's the alternative route?"
"There's no alternative. If you don't make it, you can't get to Presentation, can you? Take your position, Sawyer," Professor Emetterio orders, and Sawyer moves to the beginning of the course. "After he makes it past the final obstacle, so everyone can learn from this cadet completing the course, the rest of you will start every sixty seconds. And...go!"
Sawyer is off like a shot. He easily runs the fifteen feet across the single log spinning parallel with the cliff face and then the raised pillars, but it takes him three rotations inside the wheel before he jumps through the lone opening, but other than that, I don't see a single misstep in the first ascent. Not. One.
He turns and rushes toward a series of giant hanging balls that makes up the second ascent, jumping and hugging one after another. His feet back on the ground, he turns again and heads up the third ascent, which is divided into two sections. The first part has giant metal rods hanging parallel to the cliff wall, and he easily swings arm over arm, using his body's weight and momentum to swing the bar forward and reach the next bar hanging half a foot higher than the previous as he climbs the side of the cliff. From the last bar, he jumps onto a series of shaking pillars that make up the second half of this ascent before finally leaping back onto the gravel path.
By the time he reaches the fourth ascent, the spinning logs Tara's brother warned us about, Sawyer's made it all look like child's play, and I start to feel a bubble of hope that maybe the course isn't as difficult as it looks from the ground.
But then he faces a giant chimney formation rising high above him at a twenty-degree angle and pauses.
"You got this!" Liam yells from my side.
As though he heard, he sprints toward the leaning chimney and flings himself upward, grabbing onto the sides by forming an X with his body, then starts hopping up the conduit until he reaches the end and drops down in front of the final obstacle, a massive ramp that reaches up to the top of the cliff's edge at a nearly vertical climb.
My breath catches in my throat as Sawyer sprints toward the ramp, using his speed and momentum to carry him two-thirds of the way up the ramp. Just before he starts to fall, he reaches up with one arm and grasps the lip of the ramp and hauls himself over the edge.
Liam and I scream and cheer for him. He made it. In an almost flawless approach.
"Perfect technique!" Professor Emetterio calls out. "That's exactly what you should all be doing."
"Perfect, and yet he was still passed over at Threshing," Luca snarks. "Guess the dragons have some sense of taste."
"Give it a rest, Luca," Liam says.
How could someone as smart and athletic as Sawyer not bond? And if he didn't, what the hell kind of hope is there for the rest of us?
"Violet is going to be too short for the ramp," I whisper to Liam.
He glances over at me, and then back to the obstacle. "She's wicked fast. If she can get her speed up, I bet the momentum will take her to the top."
Pryor—the shy cadet from the Krovlan border region—struggles on the swinging steel rods in the third ascent due to some rather predictable hesitation on his part, but he makes it just as Luca nearly falls at the shaking pillars, reaching for a rope. I can only make out the flash of red from his hair when he starts the rotating stair steps, but I hear his scream all the way to my toes as that particular rope sways near the ground.
"You can do it!" Sawyer shouts down from the top.
"They go in opposite directions!" Tara calls up.
"Tynan, start," Professor Emetterio orders, watching his pocket watch and not the course.
My heart thuds in my ears when Luca makes it past the steps, and the drumming doesn't let up as Liam is called to start. He passes the first ascent with the grace I've come to expect from him before coming to a halt.
Tynan hangs from the second of five buoy balls on the second ascent, right where the ground drops out. If he falls, he's got a minuscule chance of hitting the single spinning log from the first ascent and overwhelming odds of dropping thirty feet to the ground below.
"You have to keep moving, Tynan!" I shout, though it's doubtful he can hear me from here. He might be a gullible ass, but he's still my squadmate.
He shrieks, his arms wrapped around the swinging ball. It's impossible for him to reach his hands completely around—that's the point, and he's slipping.
"He's going to screw Liam's time," Tara says, blowing out a bored sigh.
"Good thing this is only practice, then," Nadine says, then bellows up at Tynan. "What's the matter, Tynan? Scared of heights? Who's the liability now?"
"Stop." I elbow Nadine in the side. She's not quite as lean now. The last seven weeks have put some muscle on her. "Just because he's a dick doesn't mean you have to be."
"But he's giving me so much material to work with," Nadine replies, a corner of her mouth lifting into a smirk as she backs away, heading toward the starting position.
"Swing to the next one!" Luca suggests from the top of the course.
"I can't!" Tynan's shriek could break glass as it echoes down the mountain, and it makes my chest tighten.
"Nadine, start!" Professor Emetterio commands.
Nadine charges over the log.
"Liam!" I shout up. "The rope is between the first and second!"
He nods down at me, then jumps for the first buoy ball, clasping it up top, near where the chains hold it to the iron rail above, and swinging his weight around the side.
It's an utterly inspired approach, one that might just work for me.
Gravel crunches beneath my boots as I move to the starting position. Oh, look, it is possible for my heart to beat faster. The damned thing practically flutters as I wipe my clammy palms on my leather pants.
Liam gets the rope into Tynan's hand, but instead of using it to swing to the next ball, he climbs...down.
My jaw practically unhinges as he descends. Definitely didn't see that one coming.
"Aelin, begin!" Emetterio orders.
Be with me, Zihnal. I haven't spent nearly enough time at temple for the god of luck to care much about what happens to me right now, but it's worth a shot. Especially with my fucked up back and arms. There is no way I am getting through this course without falling or bleeding through my cloths.
I bolt up the first part of the ascent, coming to the spinning log within seconds. My stomach feels like it's being stirred by this balance beam from hell. "It's just balance. You can balance," I mumble and start across. "Quick feet. Quick feet. Quick feet," I repeat all the way across, jumping off the end to land on the first of four granite columns, each one higher than the last.
There are about three feet between them, but I manage to leap from one pillar to the next without skidding off the ends. And this is the easy part. A knot of fear works its way up my throat.
I jump into the rotating wheel and run, leaping over the only opening as it flies by once, then watching it come around a second time. Timing. This one is all about timing.
The opportunity comes and I seize it, racing through the opening and turning back onto the gravel path of the second ascent. The buoy balls are just ahead, but I'm going to fall on my ass. My body won't be able to handle this pain.
Needing every ounce of my lung capacity as I spring from the edge of the path onto the first ball, grasping it up top like Liam did. The immediate strain on my shoulders makes me tense every muscle to keep from passing out.
Stay calm. Stay calm.
Throwing my weight, I force the ball to rotate, swinging me toward the next one. I repeat motions, grasping from one ball to the next, keeping my eyes on the chains and nothing else. With one last swing, I throw myself sideways, releasing the ball and landing on the shoulder-wide gravel path, falling to my knees with a muffled scream of pain.
It's all momentum for the next ascent. I line my body up with the first metal rod and get ready to sprint forward.
There are three iron rails in front of me, each lined up like a battering ram toward the next. I launch myself toward the first. At least the texture gives me something to keep hold of as I work my way hand over hand. The ache in my back grows and when I reach the end of the first rail, swinging my feet to work up the momentum for the next.
The first clang of iron as the rails meet makes my fingers slip, and I gasp as terror claws its way out of my stomach. I throw myself to the next rail and I move across the rail with the same hand-over-hand motion, ignoring the outright protests of my burns and feeling sweat drip down my back.
My right hand loses purchase and my weight swings me into the face of the steep mountainside, my cheek slamming into the rock. A high-pitched ringing erupts in my ears and my vision darkens at the edges.
"Aelin!" Liam shouts from the top.
"Next to you! The rope is next to you!" Tara calls up.
Iron scrapes my fingertips as my left hand slips, but I spot the rope and take hold, bracing my feet on the knot beneath me and clinging tight until the ringing fades in my head. I have to swing over or climb down.
I've survived seven weeks in this damned quadrant, and this course isn't going to beat me today.
Pushing off the edge, I swing out for the rail and make it, immediately starting the hand over hand to get me to the next one and then the next, until I finally let go, landing on the first shaking iron pillar. My brain is rattled as the thing shudders violently, and I leap to the next, barely gaining a foothold before jumping to the gravel path at the end of the ascent.
Tara is right behind me, landing with a grin. "This is the best!"
"You clearly need to see the healers. You must have hit your head if you think this is fun." My breaths are choppy gasps, but I can't help but smile at her obvious joy.
"Clearly you're the one who needs a healer, you're bleeding through your clothes." I stiffen, "Just run straight across this one," she changes the subject as we reach the twisting staircase posts jutting straight from the side of the cliff face.
Each three-foot-wide timber rotates from its base in one of the steepest sections of the course. I quickly calculate if you fall off one of the posts, you'd probably drop at least thirty or forty feet onto the rocky terrain below. I swallow down the terror trying to crawl up my throat and focus on the possibility my agility and lightness will give me an edge on this particular obstacle.
She continues. "Trust me. If you pause, it'll roll you right off."
I nod and bounce on my feet, dredging up whatever courage I have left. Then I run. My feet are quick, making contact with each post only long enough to push off for the next, and within a few heartbeats, I'm on the other side.
"Yes!" I shout, throwing my fist up in celebration as I get out of the way for Tara.
"Go, Aelin!" she shouts. "Here I come!" Her footwork is as agile as mine as she springs from spinning post to post.
A roar sounds from overhead, and I jerk my gaze up just in time to see the underbelly of a Green Daggertail as it flies directly over us, headed back to the Vale.
I'm never going to get used to that.
Tara cries out and my head snaps toward hers just in time to see her wobble and slip on the fifth post. The air freezes in my lungs as she careens forward, her belly hitting the next-to-last spinning log as if in slow motion.
"Tara!" I scream, lunging for her, my fingertips skimming the seventh post.
Our eyes meet, shock and terror filling her wide black eyes as the post rolls her away from me and she falls. Halfway down the cliff.
...
The sun burns my eyes as we stand in morning formation.
"Calvin Atwater," Captain Fitzgibbons reads, his voice solemn like always.
First Squad, Claw Section, Fourth Wing. He sits two rows behind me in Battle Brief. He sat.
There's nothing special about this morning. Our first trial on the Gauntlet has made the roll longer, but it's just another list on just another day...except it's not. The exceptional cruelty of this ritual has never hit me this hard before. It's not like the first day anymore. I know more than half of the names as they're called. My vision blurs. "Newland Jahvon," he continues.
Second Squad, Flame Section, Fourth Wing. He had breakfast duty with me.
We have to be in the twenties by now. How can this be all there is? We say their names once and then go on as if they never existed?
Rhiannon shifts her weight at my side, and she abruptly sniffles, the motion jerking her shoulders once.
"Tara Donans."
A single tear escapes and I bat it away, ripping open one of the scabs along my cheek. A trickle of blood follows as the next name is called, but I let that one stain me.