There is only one way to describe Diana Riorson's story; complicated. Her family is a wreck. Her father- dead. Her brother-disappeared. But if there's one thing she's learned in her many years at Basgiath Orphanage, it's that to survive she needs to...
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"You two seriously knew every answer in history and apparently every right question to ask in Battle Brief," Rhiannon says to Violet and I, shaking her head as we stand on the sidelines of the sparring mat after lunch, watching Ridoc and Aurelie circle each other in their fighting leathers. They're evenly matched in size. Ridoc is on the smaller side, and Aurelie is built just like Mira, which doesn't surprise me because she's a legacy on her father's side. "Both of you aren't even going to have to study for tests, are you?"
The rest of the first-years stand on our side, but the second- and thirdyears line the others. They're definitely at an advantage here, considering they've already had at least a year of combat training. But I've been stuck in the rough parts of Bagswairth all my life, and that itself makes up for it.
"I was trained to be a scribe," Violet shrugs. "But holy crap, Diana. I did not think you were the type to read—no offense."
I laugh. "Well, you've got me there, but strategy is fair game. Battle brief is one of the only classes I can grasp."
All the women are dressed similarly now, though the cuts of their leathers are chosen by preference. Some of them are lower cut, but I'm definitely not complaining about the view. The guys are mostly shirtless because they think shirts give their opponent something to grab onto. Personally, I'm not arguing with their logic. I turn my eyes on my own squad's mat and off the other twenty mats in the massive gym that consumes the first floor of the academic wing. One wall is made entirely of windows and doors, all left open to let in the breeze, but it's still stiflingly hot.
There are three squads from each wing here this afternoon, and lucky me, First Wing has sent their third squads, which include Jack Barlowe, who's been glaring at me from two mats over since I walked in.
"Guess that means you're not worried about academics," Rhiannon says, her brows rising at me. She's chosen a leather vest, too, but hers cuts in above the collarbone and secures at her neck, leaving her shoulders bare for movement.
"Stop circling each other like you're dance partners and attack!" Professor Emetterio orders from across the mat, where Dain watches Aurelie and Ridoc's match with our squad executive leader, Cianna.
"I'm worried about this," Violet tells Rhiannon, tilting her chin toward the mat.
"Really?" She shoots her a skeptical look. Her braids are twisted into a small bun at the nape of her neck. "I figured as a Sorrengail, you'd be a hand-to-hand threat."
"Not exactly."
I tuck my finger underneath her chin and tilt her face towards the mat. "Don't worry. Watch their movements."
She does, her mind buzzing as she struggles to comprehend what they are doing.
Ridoc launches toward Aurelie, but she ducks, sweeping out her leg and tripping him. He staggers but doesn't go down. He pivots quickly, palming a dagger in his hand.
