𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐒 ━━━ ✧ ⋆ （ fourth wing ）

✧ ⋆ （ 𝟢𝟢𝟥 ） 𝗯𝗮𝘁𝘁𝗹𝗲 𝗯𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗳

The next morning, we stand in formation, listening to the death roll as it's read out by Captain Fitzgibbons. Two other scribes flank him on the dais, their hands clasped dutifully behind their backs.

I can't help but smooth my hands over my new leathers every so often, distracting myself from the unease the knowledge of so many of my people dying sinks into me. They were issued to us one-by-one as soon as we entered the main hall of the Riders Quadrant the evening prior. While the corsets Mira commissioned for Violet and I aren't regulation, we fit in well enough among the hundreds of other modified uniforms around us.

Violet shifts her weight slightly beside me, and I glance down in concern. She's being very careful not to put too much pressure on her injured knee, but there isn't much for us to do to remedy it without privacy.

When I return my eyes to her face, she blinks at me, then angles her chin to the left—a gesture that tells me she's fine, even if I don't believe it for a second.

Captain Fitzgibbons finally rolls up the scroll after voicing the last name. "We commend their souls to Malek."

I silently offer my own prayer for those that were lost, in hopes that the innocent among them find their way into the Field of Hearths and Celestya safeguards them for the rest of eternity.

There's no formal conclusion to the formation, no last moment of silence for those that have fallen. The names on the scroll leave the dais with the scribes, and the quiet is broken when the squad leaders all turn to address their squads.

"Hopefully you all ate breakfast, because you're not going to get another chance before lunch," Dain announces. His eyes catch on Violet's for the briefest of moments, before he glances away and feigns indifference.

"He's good at pretending he doesn't know you," Rhiannon whispers from Vi's opposite side.

"He is," she agrees just as softly, and I fight to hold back a grimace when she smothers a rising smile with the blandest expression possible, yet still gazes at him like a love-sick puppy.

"Second and third-years, I'm assuming you know where to go," Dain continues as the scribes wind their way around the edge of the courtyard to our right, headed back to their quadrant. They'd pass by the Healer's Quadrant on their way, and I ignore the part of me that wants to tense up at the reminder that it was supposed to be my quadrant. Lingering on what could have been would serve me no use in a place designed to weed out weakness.

The second and third-years all mutter their agreement. As first-years, we're in the back two rows of the little square that makes up our squad.

"First-years, at least one of you should have memorized your academic schedule when it was handed out yesterday," Dain's voice booms. I can't help but notice that it's nowhere near as captivating as Xaden's was yesterday, though I'm sure Violet would disagree. "Stick together. I expect you all to be alive when we meet this afternoon in the sparring gym."

My eyes flash in realization, and I square my shoulders and raise my chin higher.

I'd nearly forgotten we are sparring today. We only have the gym twice a week, so as long as I can get through today's session unscathed, I'm in the clear for the next couple days. I'm pretty confident in my own abilities, but there's no telling just how much training the other cadets have had, especially those with clear natural strength like Jack. Though the Gauntlet will pose another challenge that I'm not as confident I'll be able to persevere through. And Presentation after that...

But it's not just myself I have to worry about.

Violet made good progress in the six months we'd been granted to ready ourselves for the Riders Quadrant. She's fast, and knows her way around daggers almost as well as she knows her scrolls, but if her opponent even gets one decent blow on her, her body will crumble under the force. If there's anything I can do to support her in the challenges, I will.