Renegades (Hotbloods #3)

Soon, I began to wonder if Pandora had merely been toying with us, dangling a carrot of doom so we would never feel comfortable, our minds constantly on edge, waiting for the worst to happen. Even when it didn’t come, I couldn’t relax, fearful that bad news was just around the corner.

In fact, the only thing that had changed in the realm of Northern Vysanthe was the speed with which the alchemy lab was being built. The queen had mostly forgiven me for my indiscretion, believing I knew nothing about Bashrik’s affections for Angie, but she had not been so kind to the man himself. Bashrik had well and truly fallen out of the queen’s favor, with her demanding he finish the new lab quicker than previously agreed… or else. The threat, by all accounts, was the usual sort, with her promising to banish him to the polar ice caps, or send him back to her sister as a traitor, or feed him to a pack of hungry frostfangs, but I didn’t believe she would actually carry any of that out. I knew damaged pride and a broken heart when I saw them.

I could tell that Bashrik truly felt bad about what had happened and wanted to make up for it by building the lab quickly. The building was coming along more and more every day. In fact, within the next couple of days, it would be finished, ready for the alchemists to resume their work.

“At least you won’t be sent packing to the South,” Navan teased as we stood around the building site, watching the workers put the finishing touches into place. It was possibly the most stunning creation I’d ever seen, the walls almost liquid in the way they shimmered, the sharp contours of the roof glinting in the Vysanthean sun. It looked like someone had put the ocean on its side, the frozen waves crashing at the top, while the still waters stretched below.

Bashrik grimaced. “I’m still not convinced she won’t punish me out of spite. I’ll finish this up, and she’ll change her mind,” he muttered, shielding his eyes as he watched a glazier dangle from the side of the structure, fitting a small, mirrored piece of glass.

I waited for Angie to make a smart remark at his expense, but the cutting retort never came. They’d been like this ever since the garden party, no longer sniping at or bantering with one another, but standing shyly beside each other, avoiding eye contact.

“Somebody’s in love,” I whispered to Lauren, who stood next to me.

Lauren rolled her eyes. “She paces around the apartment like a puppy. I wish they’d just kiss again already. Their awkwardness is making me awkward.”

I stifled a chuckle as Angie flashed us a sharp look, her cheeks reddening.

“What are you two snickering about?” she asked, her eyes narrowing.

I tried to straighten my expression. “I was just telling Lauren that we better get going. Otherwise, we’ll be late for training.”

“And I have a pile of books to get through before the end of the day,” Lauren added, not bothering to hide her smirk.

“You and Bashrik enjoy whatever you plan to get up to on this fine, sunny morning, and we’ll see you for dinner later,” I said, relishing the embarrassed looks my words elicited from the pair of them. Bashrik was literally looking at everything other than Angie, while her cheeks went scarlet.

Navan grinned, giving his brother a pat on the back. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” he said, leaning down to plant a kiss on my lips, as if to prove a point.

With that, I looped my arm through Navan’s, and we set off toward the training center. Lauren followed as far as the palace before disappearing inside with an amused wave of farewell.

It was the first morning in a long time that I actually felt good about things. With the passing weeks, my stamina and recovery time had improved on the training grounds. Now, I barely noticed the aches and bruises, and if I did, it meant I’d taken a particularly brutal hit that deserved to hurt. The day-to-day strain of the tasks no longer affected me, and it felt glorious to be able to say that.

Moreover, I was acing my flying tasks, both with wings and in the training ships, and was managing to hold my own in hand-to-hand simulations. The only thing was, I wished my wings were more permanent. I was almost at the end of my second vial, with about a quarter left after strict training-only rationing, but I hoped I could ask for more when I ran out.

During training itself, Navan had backed off, after I’d asked him to, but he still couldn’t help himself when it came to the big battle scenarios. I would catch sight of him creeping around a ruin, keeping an eye on me, believing I had no idea what he was doing. It usually ended in him getting himself killed in the simulation, but I was getting better at defending him, keeping him safer for longer in those situations. I was no longer the puny Kryptonian who only had knives at her disposal. I was formidable now, able to take down multiple enemies within a few seconds of letting my knives fly, while drawing my weapons back without it turning into a friendly-fire situation.

I was proving my worth in a hostile environment, and the other trainees were noticing. Two days ago, Iskra had offered her hand to help me up after a particularly long and vigorous sparring session. And then, yesterday, a guy named Orval had slapped me on the back after a flying fight, whooping about how awesome I’d been. The slap on the back had nearly ended with me falling flat on my face, but the sentiment had been a welcome change.

I didn’t know why they were being kinder to me, and the shift in mood almost made me suspicious, but it seemed genuine enough. I had thought they’d be bitter that I was succeeding, but I had shown my determination to be part of their team, if nothing else. One of the officers had even nodded at me as he gave a speech about how a unit was only as strong as its weakest member, the others nodding along.

“You seem very smiley this morning,” Navan said, putting his arm around my shoulders.

I grinned wider. “Today feels like a good one, don’t you think?” I asked, slipping my arm around his waist. Things still hadn’t progressed between us, physically. That moment hadn’t arrived yet, but I was safe in the knowledge that it would, when the time was right. He didn’t seem in any rush, though we’d had a few heated evenings, spent tangled in one another’s arms. That was enough for me, and it seemed to be enough for him, for now.

“It does feel like a good one,” Navan agreed, lifting his face to the sunlight.