THE HEIR OF STORMS | Garrick Tavis

Chapter 3

The first dinner is not exactly a celebration.

After the brief display—and death—of the first-year cadets, we were all directed to our shared quarters and given black leather uniforms, each with a small star on the shoulder indicating our first-year status. Although we were given time to change, the shared women's bathroom didn't exactly offer the privacy I sought, so I only managed to change my pants and linen shirt into the tight leather garments, struggling to get them on while hiding under the blanket. It was the most pathetic thing I had ever done in my life.

Once dressed, I faced myself in the mirror. I wasn't used to wearing leather, let alone such tight clothing. Black leather was for riders, and one couldn't go unnoticed in it. Everyone watched the military elite of Navarre, both friends and foes. And it was pointless to wear leather without a dragon by your side.

I had to admit, though, that I felt good sliding the thick fabric over my body. It would protect me from the cold—my greatest enemy during fall and winter—and it also offered some protection against unexpected blows. It also matched the dried blood in my hair, turning small strands of my hair red. I would have to wash it another time, when the showers were free. For now, I braided it into two plaits and tied them tightly in buns near my neck, so I wouldn't become an easy target from behind.

A loud bell signaled dinner, and before I could blink, I heard my name being called from the corridor. Ridoc let out a whistle as he accompanied me to the dining hall.

"Leather was made for your curves, stranger."

I rolled my eyes.

"You're not too bad yourself," I replied, "and stop calling me that."

"Do you prefer I call you 'my love'?"

I opened my mouth to respond but was overwhelmed by the delicious smell of food—a mix of roasted meat and seasoned vegetables—reminding me of how exhausted and hungry I was. We grabbed our trays and went to the line of dishes. The food wasn't exactly a feast, but after the long days without any food and the stressful morning we'd had, anything seemed like a feast. I served myself a generous portion of meat and a watery soup that smelled like the best meal of my life and followed Ridoc to our squad's table.

"Well, it looks like you're my new family," Ridoc said as he sat down, and I took a seat beside him.

Across from me was the girl Sorreingail, with bandages on both wrists and an expression that definitely suggested she had seen better days. Next to her was the boy who had been a few candidates ahead in line for the parapet, with sandy-colored hair and eyebrows and a kind smile. I didn't remember his name, and I didn't even remember asking.

"I'm Ridoc," he introduced himself before anyone could say anything, "You must be Violet Sorrengail."

Violet gave a shy smile.

"Yes," she replied, "and this is Sawyer," she said, pointing to the boy, "and Rhiannon," she pointed to the approaching girl.

Rhiannon settled next to me, opening a smile that soon faded. Her black eyes stared at me through thick lashes, and she seemed to take a deep breath.

"Illena, right?" she asked, and I nodded. "Gods, girl. You put on quite a show on the parapet."

"Oh, it was you! I knew it!" Sawyer responded, leaning over the table with a relaxed glint in his eyes. "I remembered you from the line! And what was that with the dragons?"

Desperate to shift the focus from the conversation about me, I gave a timid smile to Violet, another cadet who hadn't been treated kindly by the rumors.

"I wasn't the only one putting on a show at the parapet," I said.

Sawyer shook his head, smiling. "If we keep being surrounded by people this good, we might just survive this madness." He cast a playful glance at Violet, who responded with a restrained smile, beginning to feel comfortable in the conversation.