I didn’t trust myself to speak. I nodded instead.
His eyes flitted to my jaw. “I’ll keep you paired with Adrianna from now on.” He stepped in closer, lowering his voice, which I suspected had something to do with the recruits now strolling through the gate. “Don’t expect her to like it. She’s used to partnering with me. I’m only doing it because your bruise tells me I can’t risk putting you with anyone else.”
“Frazer’s okay.” I didn’t know why I felt the need to defend him. “And Adrianna’s training shouldn’t suffer. Put me with whoever.”
I raised my chin a jot. I’d spoken with fire, but my insides were ice.
Wilder gave me an appraising look. “Adrianna can partner with Frazer tomorrow. You’ll be with me. We’ll take it in turns.” He released his grip on my arm and continued. “Be aware, my other students call me Master, but you’re not fae and therefore, not bound by our rules. You may call me Teacher, or Wilder, if you wish.”
Was it a test?
He jerked his chin to where Adrianna was waiting. “Go.”
The command was unfeeling and absolute. As if he was used to complete obedience. A spark of defiance flared as memories of Elain ordering me about like a dog flooded my consciousness. But then, the sight of those twin scars quickly snuffed out my rebellious streak.
“Yes … Wilder.”
His eyes flashed. Amusement or contempt, I couldn’t tell.
I jogged over to Adrianna, who was moving through a series of poses. They looked fiendishly complicated and exhausting.
It’d be a miracle if I survived until lunch.
Chapter 12
The Grind
My first day at Kasi set the pattern that ordered the weeks that followed, with two notable exceptions. Adrianna kept her promises, which meant Tysion, Cole, and Dustin didn’t touch me: yes, there were endless sneers and insults, but nothing I couldn’t handle. I wasn’t so thrilled when her other vow held true; Adrianna refused to seek me outside the ring. The only sign of that initial kindness was she never failed to wake me before the bell sounded. After that, she always went her own way. Her refusal to talk with us had even beaten Cai into submission.
Thankfully, Cai and Liora more than made up for her absence. They’d meet me every morning without fail, and join me for our own pre-ring regime. Ironically, these moments outside the training pits with Cai and Liora were my only solace from the relentless grind and my consistent failure to improve. Listening to their stories about their lives prior to the camp, hearing them joking, and talking—I’d never talked so much in my entire life. Although, I remained silent when it came to the necklace and the disembodied voice. I didn’t want them thinking the worst. It was probably stupid. They were witches; they might’ve been able to riddle out its mysteries. Yet ever since the beating from Cole it had gone cold and silent, despite the questions I’d hurled its way in the dark hours of the night. I was beginning to suspect the magic that sustained it had died. I preferred that idea to the alternative of the voice being nothing more than a temporary blip of madness, a way to comfort myself during the horror of exile.
Yet despite that companionship, once the fourth week rolled around, I was on the edge of a meltdown. Then, during an evening meal mid-week, I snapped. I’d wolfed down my meal and was procrastinating heading to my training session with Wilder, when Cai asked for the salt. I grabbed for the shaker … and failed to lift it. My muscles were dead weights.
Such a little thing. But it cleaved my iron will apart and shattered my self-control into a million pieces. I covered my face with my hands, struggling to stifle wheezing sobs. A familiar rush went over my skin. Sound barrier.
“Mother have mercy, what’s wrong with you?” Cai dropped his fork next to the pile of potatoes he was consuming to stare at me, wide-eyed.
“Serena?” Liora placed her hand on my back.
A shrug and then it came pouring out. “I’m waking up exhausted. I’m torturing my body every rutting minute. Wilder won’t step up my training until I’ve mastered the basics. The trial’s three days from now—how much more can I do?” A wobble of hysteria echoed in my voice.
A relentless stream of encouragement followed. That meant Cai employed bad jokes and waggling eyebrows, while Liora used unfailing compassion. The heaviness and anxiety eased, and when I’d stopped wheezing, Cai leaned in conspiratorially. Uh-oh. “This’ll cheer you up,” he began. “I’ve heard some fascinating rumors about a certain male we all know.”
He winked and my throat bobbed. I hadn’t told either of them about my feelings for Wilder. It was just too pathetic and totally absurd, especially when he kicked my ass every gods-damned day. I braced myself, willing my face to show only bland curiosity. “Who?”
“Frazer. Apparently, he’s not just faking this whole strong-but-silent type to get the females winging his way.” He rushed on, his eyes bright. “People are saying he used to be a Sami.”
I blew out a shaky breath. Wrong fae. And thanks to my friends’ unceasing efforts to educate me, I recognized the word. Sami was the elite rank in the fae army tiers.
Liora tutted loudly. “Is this bloated bit of gossip from the same fool who told you one of the trials would involve battling lions with our bare hands?”
I let out a watery chuckle. That had to have been one of my favorite theories. Cai definitely had a touch of the theatrical.
“Might’ve been—and we still don’t know that the lion story isn’t true,” he added, as breezy as they come.
Liora rolled her eyes skyway. “Oh please. It’s as likely as the one you told us about fighting our instructors one on one.”
I was scheduled to do just that. And the last time I’d been late, Wilder had ordered me to do fifty push-ups. I’d almost vomited at his feet after thirty. Not wanting another repeat of that humiliation, I slipped out from behind the bench. “I’ve gotta go.”
Cai said goodbye, Liora wished me good luck, and they went back to arguing about the trials. I stepped out into the night, whistled for light, and headed back to the ring at a run with a powerful surge of dread snapping at my heels.
Wilder had me locked in a hold. I’d tried throwing my weight back, dislodging him, scratching him. All in vain. Stars, at this point I’d settle for making him sweat a little.
He was showing me how to combat an attack from behind, but I’d been in his grapple hold for so long, I was convinced he simply enjoyed the sight of me squirming. Every ounce of cunning and rage, every single maneuver I’d used, he’d matched.
No matter how hard I trained, I couldn’t shift stone. Compared to Wilder’s strength, I was a kitten. Worse—a bug. An insect he could squash. I might be quick and agile, but a fae could run me down within moments, thanks to their wings. Maybe it made me childish, but it stuck in the throat. It was so rutting unfair.
“Get your chin down, Serena.”
“I’m trying,” I gasped out.
“Try harder.”
I clenched my fists. Gods. I wanted to hit him, badly.
With one giant, raging push, my chin dipped low enough that the pressure on my throat eased.
“Good. Now—”
I seized the moment and brought my foot up, aiming to stamp on his. He’d moved his leg back before I could blink.
“This is hopeless.” I went limp.
Wilder’s erupted canines grazed my neck. While I struggled to lean as far away as possible from those cold points, he growled, “Are you going to make me discipline you as I would a fae?”
A moment of pure recklessness, spurred on by exhaustion and despair, made me snarl, “Go ahead. I’ve known worse.”
His second growl reverberated into my back, hitting my ribs. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re barely past childhood.”