THE HEIR OF STORMS | Garrick Tavis

Chapter 4

Battle Brief was full of bullshit.

My eyes were on Violet as we headed to the gym for assessment day after Battle Brief class. If I remembered correctly, the first trials first-year cadets go through, besides the parapet, consisted of challenges. Although it seemed like nonsense, I knew many died on the mat. It was idiotic. People died for nothing in Navarre. They needed the best, true, but training was different from a kill-or-be-killed situation. Lives shouldn't be insignificant like that.

If I had learned anything about Dragon Riders, it was that they tried hard to appear indifferent about their own feelings. And that, along with their history lessons, was the biggest load of crap they could get into. Because people without feelings don't care. And you don't fight for something you don't care about. That's not how things work. There's nothing like grief and revenge to win a good fight.

'Illena?' called Violet, whose accent rolled the 'l's like 'lh.' The Navarrean accent was annoying, but not as much as the Poromiel one. Luckily, I liked Violet enough to ignore how she occasionally dropped vowels from words. 'Did you hear what I said?'

I looked at her, and she understood it as a no.

'I asked if you know how to fight.'

'What kind of question is that, Vi,' Rhiannon laughed. 'You saw what she did on the parapet...'

'No,' I interrupted Rhiannon. 'I don't actually know how to fight. I don't know how I did that. I'm going to get my ass kicked.'

Violet laughed.

'Oh, right. I highly doubt that.'

It was a lie, of course. I knew how to fight, obviously. After years and years of training, the least I could do was defend myself on a mat or win a challenge against a first-year student who barely knew how to spell w.a.r. But I had already drawn too much attention, and all I wanted was not to die. At least for now. Survive the first year. Maybe live a little.

We entered the gym, and my gaze went straight to Xaden Riorson.

However, the third-year's eyes were on Violet, who was shyly watching Dain as we approached our squad.

Xaden didn't seem happy, but I took advantage of not having his attention to observe him better. He looked remarkably like his father — the same onyx-colored irises and dark hair. He had also inherited that rebellious strength in his eyes, the violent spark, the posture of a leader. I hadn't known Fen long enough to see any other resemblance, but the little I remembered of him was enough to make me wonder if I could trust his son.

Maybe not yet. Maybe in the future.

His gaze met mine, and he furrowed his brow. I didn't look away, intrigued by that cold similarity. Doubt gnawed at me, making me question whether I was doing the right thing, whether I should take the next step. But I didn't trust myself enough. I wanted time, needed time.

Gods, I was such a coward. In the Threshing, some dragon would surely notice that and turn me to ash. I really didn't want to think about the Threshing right now.

A commotion on the mat made me look away from Xaden, only to find Jack Barlowe over another first-year, the latter's neck at an unnatural angle to hold a head. Jack was arguing with Professor Emetterio, and Violet and Rhiannon looked terrified.

I hesitated, remembering the feeling of loss. Something told me I'd feel a lot of that while I was here.

'Enough,' shouted the Professor. 'You,' he pointed at Violet, 'and you,' he pointed at a second-year girl with pink hair. 'Mat two.' Then he turned and pointed at me. 'You and...' he spun around, looking for someone, and pointed at a huge second-year guy. 'Mat four.'