The two of them went down to the tavern together. A band of minstrels had set up in the center of the room, and the lively music combined with the food went a long way toward easing Lucyan and Ryolas’s moods. They stayed downstairs for a little while before Lucyan retired, wanting to get to sleep early so he would be well rested for what was to come.
The next morning, Lucyan rose well before daybreak. The ring hidden beneath his skin chafed as he put on his pants, but less than it had the day before. Swinging his pack over his shoulder, he went downstairs to settle his account, then caught a cab straight to the castle.
When Lucyan approached the gate, he was pleased to see the guards remembered him. They gave him directions to the trainee barracks located on the castle’s extensive grounds. It took Lucyan a brisk twenty-minute walk to get there, and when he was shown to his bunk, he discovered Delara, one of the women who had tried out yesterday, sitting on the edge of the bottom bunk.
“No separate quarters for men and women, then?” he asked, setting his pack down. He eyed the sword warily as he stripped off his shirt—he’d been given a simple black tunic to wear as the trainee uniform.
“Apparently not.” The woman looked up at him, a gleam in her eye as she studied his bare torso. Lucyan swore she was counting his abs. “Lucky me, don’t you think?” She winked at him.
“Indeed,” Lucyan said dryly, turning away. It hadn’t escaped him that Delara was a beautiful woman. But while sharing a bunk with her did make him uncomfortable, he was oddly not tempted by the thought of her lying beneath him at night, that buxom chest of hers rising and falling. Yes, she was easy on the eyes, but as far as he was concerned, no other woman could hold a candle to his mate.
Gods, he couldn’t wait to get back to her so they could finally be married. He wasn’t entirely sure how the ceremony would work since she was taking all three of them as her husbands, but if his brothers hadn’t figured it out, Lucyan damn well would. He’d never looked forward to marriage before Dareena, but now, he couldn’t wait for them to be bonded, both in the eyes of the law and the dragon god.
Perhaps the dragon god would instruct them further when Drystan paid him a visit. Lucyan wondered what his brother would make of the giant golden dragon. Drystan would probably make a much better account of himself; he was far more reverent than Lucyan and had always believed in the gods.
While Lucyan finished dressing, he eyed his fellow bunkmates and chatted a bit with them, noting their names and faces. Most of them were among the new recruits, but a few he did not recognize, and he guessed that they’d been in training for some time. More than likely they were leftovers from the last batch of recruits who hadn’t quite finished their training yet but hadn’t been deemed worthless. He’d barely finished dressing when a loud, obnoxious horn sounded.
“That’ll be Sergeant Tarras,” one of the recruits said. “Come on, you don’t want to be late!”
The other recruits in the room dashed out the door, and Lucyan strapped on his daggers before hurrying after them. A single line was already half formed. Lucyan joined them and stood at attention. He estimated around thirty people total lived at the trainee barracks—the recruits who had finished training would have been moved to different quarters. He would have to sneak over to wherever they were being housed when he had a chance—he wanted to get a more accurate count of how many spies Shadowhaven really had at their disposal.
“Welcome, trainees!” the sergeant barked as he walked down the line, inspecting them with a fiercely critical eye. Lucyan could smell the magic on him even from several paces away, and there was something about the superior look on his face that all warlocks seemed to carry. “I hope you slugabeds got some sleep last night instead of drinking the night away, because I’m going to work you so hard you’ll wish you were dead!”
Lucyan locked his face down to keep from rolling his eyes. Now that he was standing here, he wondered what in Terragaard he’d been thinking, signing up for a mission like this. He’d never done well with authority, and had stayed far away from Dragonfell’s military, knowing he would never last. These idiotic intimidation rituals the soldiers were put through might be necessary, but Lucyan was a bloody dragon. He could reduce this shouty bastard to a pile of ash with a belch.
Alas, that wasn’t the game, so Lucyan played along, allowing the sergeant to shout in his face and demand that he straighten his collar. After Sergeant Tarras had finished thoroughly criticizing them all, he ordered them to drop to the ground and do one hundred push-ups. Lucyan paced himself so he wouldn’t stand out, but luckily, he was far from the only man here who could do these with ease.
Lord Byrule joined the sergeant to watch the recruits. Afterward, the sergeant put them through a series of grueling exercises so intense even Lucyan found himself sweaty and out of breath by the end of it all.
“It’s a good thing they give us two sets of clothes,” Delara panted as they lined up again. “I don’t think I could stand having to smell like a gutter rat all the time.”
“Shut your traps!” the sergeant barked. Lord Byrule stood next to him, wearing a long coat over his clothes, looking distinguished despite the heat. “When standing in this line, you are to speak only when spoken to. Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir!” the recruits yelled.
“Good. Lord Byrule has come to brief you miserable wretches on what to expect as recruits.”
The sergeant stepped aside, and the warlock moved forward, taking over. “Good morning, recruits. Congratulations on making it into the training academy. Over the next twelve months, we expect both Dragonfell and Elvenhame to fall. If you get through your training, you will enjoy the privilege of helping us take control of these kingdoms and govern them on behalf of the warlock king. We need strong, bright men and women who are not afraid to take charge and do what needs to be done to bring these people to heel, and believe me, they will fight you tooth and nail in the beginning. But for those of you who excel, there is both power and riches to look forward to.” He spread his arms wide, a broad grin on his face. “What do you boys and girls think about that?”
The recruits cheered, their eyes shining with the thrill of rapid advancement. Lucyan whooped for joy even as anger burned in his chest. Did the warlocks really think his people to be so weak that they were on the verge of crumbling? Perhaps that had been the case when his father had sat on the throne, but Lucyan and his brothers were in charge, and they had Dareena to center them.