The Cadet of Tildor (11 page)

“I believe I erred earlier than that, guardsman.” Savoy leaned forward in a matching motion. “Had I replaced your guard unit with twelve-year-old cadets, I would have had a perimeter team able to differentiate its ass from its elbow, and arrest the archer before he took the first shot.”

Seaborn paled and the room erupted in shouts.

CHAPTER 15

“Y
ou’d think half the class would be here,” Renee said to Alec, pulling herself atop the cold training yard fence. That morning had welcomed frost on her window and she’d had to dig through her chest for a woolen shirt. A few dozen paces away, the men of the Seventh, all lean and fit, checked laces and adjusted their packs while maintaining a steady roar of conversation. Savoy blended in with them, his face animated with talk and jest.

Alec snorted. “It’s the Seventh’s first day, not last. No one is coming at dawn on a liberty day to watch them do push-ups.”

“But it’s the
Seventh.
Isn’t anyone curious?”

“Not at this hour.” Alec stretched his back. “Has the Board of Inquiry finished deliberations yet? They’ve been at it for a week already.”

“On everyone but Savoy.” Renee pushed the memory of the sobbing woman from her mind before it seized her thoughts, instead relishing the memory of Savoy’s final words. “Fisker indulged a personal grudge and painted a target on him.”

“Grudge?”

“When Savoy was a cadet, he helped Fisker fall off a horse. A cut festered and . . . ” She waved her hand vaguely. “Point is, personal histories don’t belong in the Justice Hall any more than Fisker’s private moral code does. He had no call to single Savoy out.”

“Well, Savoy was the senior officer in the dining hall. And the only Servant. He was responsible for the room. ”

She twisted toward him. “You think Fisker’s right?”

“No.” Alec held up his palms. “I think he might just be doing his job.”

Renee opened her mouth to respond, but a tall young man, whose tanned skin and dark hair r
eminded Renee of a hawk, clapped Savoy’s shoulder and pointed toward her and Alec. Savoy looked up, expressionless, while several others erupted in laughter.

Alec pushed away from the fence. “I’ve seen enough. Let’s go.”

Her cheeks heated. Alec was right. There was no reason to be here, watching other people train instead of working her own sword. More chuckles sounded, and when she glanced back, Savoy was studying the sky.

She slid down to the ground. Hawk was watching her again, eyeing her up and down. He was eighteen or nineteen, with broad shoulders, a flat stomach, and a smile that refused to surrender even at Savoy’s sharp call of “Sergeant!”

She wondered if she should bow in greeting.

“We have an essay to write.” Alec touched her elbow. “Something about thieves and motives that I know you’ve not touched in three weeks. Let’s go.”

Right. Seaborn’s essay. Free time was scarce of late. Guilt crept over her, and Renee rubbed her arms. Still, her probation was in combat arts, not academics. And she had to prioritize. Papers didn’t save lives.

“Eh, you two!” An unfamiliar voice cut through the air. Hawk waved them over. “Come here.”

Alec sighed and shot her a scowl, but there was nothing for it now. They trotted over to the group.

“The commander says ye’re his students,” said Hawk. He smiled like a boy hiding a frog in his pocket—a frog he planned to drop down a victim’s shirt.

She bowed. “Yes, sir.”

“He’s ‘sir.’ ” Hawk jerked his head toward Savoy. “I’m Cory Kash.”

Renee blushed. The army reserved
sir
for commissioned officers. Common soldiers, including sergeants—as Cory’s sleeve insignia named him—were not extended the courtesy. Since all fighter Servants were officers, Renee was unaccustomed to seeing other warriors on Academy grounds, so the slip of the tongue was understandable. But from Cory’s perspective, she must seem either blind or an idiot. The Seventh could have only one officer—and Savoy was it.

She drew herself taut and bowed. “A pleasure, Sergeant Kash.” At least the words came out crisp. “Renee de Winter, fighter cadet, senior class. My classmate Alec Takay.”

Cory whistled at Savoy. “Next thing ye’ll be wanting us to talk like that.”

“I’d settle for you not talking at all,” Savoy told him, drawing chuckles from everyone, including his victim. “Don’t mind Cory, Renee. We try keeping him gagged, but he chews through everything.”

Renee.
That felt good.

“Can you run?” Cory loomed over her, his shoulders clearing her head.

She met his dark eyes. “Can you?”

His grin grew wolfish, like Khavi’s, but he looked at Savoy before speaking again. At the latter’s nod, he turned back. “Will you join our wee jog then, fighter cadets?”

Renee accepted quickly, before Alec could bring up homework once more. This was not an opportunity to let pass. He’d thank her later. Maybe.

The lightness of excitement faded within a half hour. Savoy set a hard pace up a never-ending, winding hill. The men ran in a shifting cluster and not, as she had imagined, a military formation. Cory paced her and Alec for a few minutes before speeding up to Savoy’s side. Another man with a sergeant’s insignia followed suit. Although she heard none of their conversation, she marveled at their ability to speak during this run and implored the gods to keep her from falling behind.

Her lungs burned by the time Savoy called a halt. The men dropped to the chilled ground the moment they stopped, and she too collapsed, gratefully gasping air. A sense of someone watching made her look up. The entire squad, including Alec, held a push-up position and waited, all eyes fixed on her.
Seven Hells.

“Not yet,” said Savoy. “But we’ll get there.”

Realizing she had spoken aloud, Renee turned deep red and scrambled to imitate the others. Alec chortled. She elbowed his ribs the next chance she got. Hard. But the remorseless goat only chuckled at her again. At least he was enjoying himself.

The “wee jog” Cory promised proved an exercise in masochism. Run. Stop. Drop to the ground and work. Run again. She soon discovered the contents of the men’s backpacks.

“Sandbags?” she asked, crunching up and passing the sack to Cory, whose sweat-soaked hair stuck to his forehead. Her burning abdominals threatened to spasm. He nodded, did a sit-up with the burden, and passed it back.

“Better than rocks, aye?” His hand gently pressed on her shoulder. “Keep moving.”

Renee lay back, uncertain she could rise again. Her body shook, fighting gravity.

“Move, girl!” someone growled into her ear. She turned to see the other sergeant, an older man with a shaved head, kneeling next to her, partnering Alec in the same drill. “Sit-up! Now!” Alec grimaced at her side. By now, he was keeping up little better than she was.

She sat up. And then did it again. And again. She ran, collapsed, got up, and ran more. She passed the sandbag. She carried it in her arms. She pulled herself up on tree branches. And, despite the agony of each motion, a deep happiness seeped into her bones. She and Alec were with the Seventh, and the Seventh was not giving up on them. The toughest warriors in Tildor encouraged, shoved, yelled, but never dismissed either of them as the irrelevant tagalongs they were. When they returned to Academy grounds, Renee’s prayer thanked the gods not just for the training’s conclusion, but for its beginning. She lowered herself to the sand to stretch.

“You two keep walking another twenty minutes.” Savoy’s voice turned all heads toward her and Alec.

“We’re fine, sir, real—”

Severe looks from several fighters dissuaded her from contradicting their commander and she swallowed the rest of her protest. The older sergeant stalked toward her, but Cory beat him to it.

“I’ll come with ye,” he offered, smiling and extending her a hand to pull her up. “Maybe you can show me this sacred Academy that trains you Servants?”

Hiding a smile, Renee suddenly didn’t mind the prescribed cooldown.

Alec scowled.

* * *

“You should come back,” Renee told Alec, who, despite her urging, had declined to return to the Seventh’s morning training. The three weeks since the team’s arrival had flown by in a rush of wind, and undone homework now hung thick in the early winter air.

“I get enough of Savoy during the day.” Alec scrawled another line of his essay, assigned a month and a half ago and now, suddenly, due to Seaborn the following morning. “Extra time with him has given you nothing but blisters and moves you’ve no intention of using. Plus, I don’t enjoy the same sights you do.” The last was mumbled under his breath.

Renee’s head jerked up. “Sights?”

Sasha chortled and answered in a singsong voice, “Cory and Savoy.”

Renee threw a pillow at each of them.

Alec let it hit him, his head unwavering from his work. He had made no secret of disliking Savoy since day one, when the man had cracked his blade across Renee’s forearm, but Alec’s animosity toward Cory made little sense. Everyone liked Cory. Alec straightened and made a valiant attempt at a smile. “Go with the sergeant. Savoy isn’t your friend.”

She sat on the floor beside him. The heat from the fireplace warmed the stone, and they had spread a quilt atop that. “
You
are my friend,” she said. “Are we going to work on the assignment or not?”

Five hours later, Renee rubbed her eyes. “I can’t take much more,” she mumbled, steeling herself for the all-night experience of transforming notes into paragraphs. If she forwent sleep and food, she would just make the deadline.

Alec peered over her shoulder. “Well, you but need to start and finish.”

She scowled, but before she could reply, the door burst open and a pale Diam stumbled inside. She rose, but he sidestepped her and made a beeline for Alec.

“Someone hurt Khavi,” Diam whispered.

When Alec remained seated, Renee frowned at her animal-loving friend and crouched by the child. “I’ll come. What happened?”

Diam shook his head. “No, not you. Khavi wants
him
.” He swayed and remained upright only by grabbing the older boy’s shirt. “Please,” he added, eyes shining. “He’ll die.”

Alec’s head snapped toward Diam, and his face grew as pale as the child’s. “Can’t Renee—”

“No.” A tear curved a clean path down his cheek. “You have to help. The way you helped when Tanil’s stone cut him, remember? You—”

Alec hopped to his feet, cutting off the boy’s words. “Renee, Sasha, stay here.” He took Diam’s hand and led him from the room.

Instead of wasting time arguing or responding to Sasha’s speculations, Renee gave the boys a head start and, a few minutes later, followed them out of the barracks and across the courtyard. The wind rose and fell, shaking the naked branches, which grew denser as they walked past the Academy’s edge and into the woods. Here Renee closed the distance, using the larger tree trunks for cover. She expected Diam to become hysterical as they approached Khavi, but he grew increasingly quiet, stumbling on flat ground.

They found Khavi on a tucked-away trail, blood soaking fur and earth. When Alec touched him, the dog lacked even the strength to whine. The arrow that had cut the animal’s flank lay several yards away. Diam curled on the ground, whimpering.

Shedding secrecy, Renee sprinted to the boy. “Diam,” she started to say, but Alec was there first, hauling the boy to his feet and ripping away clothing. “Are you hurt too?”

“My side,” he whispered. “An arrow hit me.”

“No, it didn’t,” said Alec. He scrubbed his sleeve over his forehead. “There’s no blood, Diam. It . . . it hit Khavi.”

“It hit
us.
” Diam’s voice faded, his body going limp.

Renee swallowed in confusion. “Alec?”

He looked at her, eyes searching. “I . . . I think they’re bonded. That Diam will die if Khavi does.” His mouth twitched. “I’m sorry,” he whispered to her. “I’m sorry.” Alec drew a breath and let it out, its mist dull against his glistening eyes.

“For what?” Renee stepped toward him, her hand reaching for his shoulder.

He backed away. A wolf howled deep in the woods, and Khavi lifted his nose just a little, as if trying to pick up the song, and failing. Khavi’s muzzle fell. Taking another breath, Alec tilted his face to the sky. His shoulders opened as if surrendering to an energy that existed for him alone. His eyes widened, his arms trembling at his sides.

He was frightened, Renee realized. Her chest squeezed.

So was she.

But what—?
She caught her breath. Alec’s fingertips glowed. His body tensed, twisted. And then, as quickly as it came, the tension melted away. His face flushed with relief and his palms flamed with blue fire that shimmered against the dusty brown of scattered tree leaves.
Mage fire
. The thought seemed to come to her from a distance. Alec stared at the glow and licked his lips.