Dancing Darkness

- chapter 6

"There are friends. There is family. And then there is friends that become family." - A LETTER TRANSEPT BETWEEN CADET MATTHIAS TO CADET SORRENGAIL.
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                Chapter Six - Frenemies.

(Three days later)
I dislike sharing my private area with others.
People in this day of age don't usually keep a clean space— especially when others are not around. I cannot fathom why, but that is not my main point.
I am repulsed at the thought of my personal space being eradicated, specifically by a vicious blonde who has shattered my self control and sanity into shrapnel.
Aaric had been a decent ally in the matter— but he has to be hiding something. Whenever anyone mentions the king, his left eye twitches a fraction of a inch— he seems to be an expert in swordsmanship, also.
Sloane needs training. A lot of it.
Her form is sloppy and her back is hunched, stiff shoulders and tight legs. It isn't exactly her fault.
The children of the rebellion are usually put into adoption houses around the continent to eventually be cared for by snobby elites who don't care about the child's well being— just their own safety.
So, they don't teach them fighting techniques and let them rot and decay before being sent to their deaths.
I am going to guess Sloane's adoptive family is part of that category. In this moment, I very much wish I never offered to train her.
"We have been practicing the same position for an hour," she grits out, her raised hands falling to her sides. "I don't need to know this."
The only telltale sign of my frustration is the slight growl that rises in my throat. "Yes, you do."
She gets right in my face, even though I am a head and a half taller than her. My head tips down so I can get a view of her maddening blue eyes that make something spark inside of me.
Something untrustworthy.
Something dangerous.
Something—
Pain spreads across my cheek, and the force of the impact makes my head twist in the opposite direction of the hit.
Sloane just slapped me.
"— don't understand! Are you even fucking listening to me?" Her shouts reach me past the ringing in my ears.
My nostrils flare. My hands tingle and I feel that deadly pressure building in my chest. I grab her chin with my thumb and my remaining four fingers, tightening my grip and forcing her to look right at me.
Her usual cyan eyes are darkened by the threat of violence, but something in mine makes her stop and pause.
"I gave you an offer to train you," I take a good amount of pride that my voice doesn't come out as a animalistic snarl. "And you took it. You are going to honor that, darling. Are we clear?"
I see the fear that I can manipulate.
Her jaw tightens, her gaze settling on something or someone on the side, and she nods curtly.
My face tightens in a threatening smirk, showing my too-sharp canines. Only when I am sure she got the message, I let her go.
She backs away, facing towards me, as if I would pounce on her like a lion. Sloane bared her teeth before jumping off the mat and stalking off.
Pleasure in its peak form fills my black heart as I step off the mat, making my way out of the room, ignoring the constant stares burning into my back.
Only one thing is on my mind.
A certain Mairi that appears to be getting under my seemingly invincible skin. And, I must be getting under hers too.
Well, I choose to believe that.
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(That same afternoon.)
"You're an idiot." I conclude, my voice staying in a monotone pitch. She is bent over the endless scrolls she has filled with notes in preparation for our first test.
Her head falls into her hands. "How do you even know all of this shit?" She groans, her palms now pressing into her closed eyelids. "I studied." My simple response made her head snap up.
"If im a idiot, your a liar," her eye twitches in annoyance. "There is no possibility that you memorized all the details about Dragonkind in a few weeks." She slumped, her head lowering again and thudding on the wooden desk set in-front of her.
I don't tell her how I have had a interest in dragons since I was a little girl. I find immense satisfaction in her frustration.
Only after I make sure she cannot see me, I smile.
It must look like a baring of my teeth because of my lack of facial expressions, but no matter.
She raises her head again, causing my smile to drop and our eyes to clash.
Onyx on blue.
But not blue like the sky.
Her eyes are blue like the sea; chaotic and dangerous but beautiful nonetheless. A cover of calm in the midst of a storm.
People say eyes are the window to the soul.
I hope she doesn't see mine.
Time snaps back into place as Aaric clears his throat, looking quite uncomfortable all of the sudden.
A quick glare shuts him up, but the moment is already gone. Sloane is focused back on her work, or more like trying to hide the rising flush creeping up her neck.
"Are you horrid at any subject? At all?" Aaric questions, ripping at the corners of another scroll, Mathematics For Flight, I believe.
"I despise history." I unsheathe a dagger, picking at the dirt under my nails.
A scowl appears on his face. "That doesn't mean you aren't good at it."
Sloane smirks, twirling around in the creaky wooden chair we found. "Your just not successful in any other subjects than combat, Aaric. A lack of skills on your part is not her fault." She laughs as his head snaps towards her.
"I am fantastic in many subjects!"
"Sure."
"I'm not lying."
"Whatever helps you sleep at night."
"Your head on a platter, please and thank you."
I roll my eyes at their endless bickering. Gods, what did I do to the gods to deserve these morons as allies?
Sloane dips a few fingers in the ink pot beside her and flicks the remaining droplets onto Aaric, who cringes in disgust.
He is a perfectionist. Everything has to be organized and pristine just so he can acquire an item— it matches with his honest, spick and span reputation also.
He does the same to Sloane, except using both of his hands.
They go back and forth, starting to giggle and chuckle like toddlers. I'm ignoring them, reading through my own notes from a few classes.
Well, instead of excelling in my classes, ink practically falls onto me by the bucket load.
On my face, in my hair, dripping into my white tunic and the leathers underneath..
My head slowly rises up.
Aaric holds a ink cartridge, already covered with the horrid liquid. His face is paler than the moon already.
Sloane, on the other hand, is holding back laughter by covering her snorts with a hand.
"You're going to regret that." I say calmly, placing down my newly ruined notes.
She is still laughing, but manages to get out, "And how will I?"
I take slow, sure steps into her direction, bending down so my lips graze the tip of her ear. A shaky breath is released from her.
"I don't believe you want to know, darling."
I rise back up, turn on my heel, and head straight for the showers. My mood has already improved, coincidentally.
Not because of the shaky breathing whenever I come close.
Or the goosebumps on her skin.
It's her eyes.