Chapter 12

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The man's last words – or thought, rather – hung in my head for the rest of the day. Aden also never left my side again. I didn't argue or complain, figuring neither would help my cause, a.k.a. "warning Leo." While I was becoming more and more comfortable with the idea of having Aden as a bodyguard, I knew it was only a matter of time before someone tried to attack me again. Judging from the reactions of my fellow recruits, I was about as welcome here as a terrorist.

As Aden and I walked together toward my hand-to-hand combat session, no one spoke or looked at me. It was like being invisible, though I could feel their unease, thick and strong, around me.

We made a pit-stop by a bathroom, where Aden handed me a pair of black pants and told me to change out.

"You mean I can't fight in a skirt?" I joked, taking the pants from him.

Aden's mouth turned up at one corner. "I wouldn't mind."

Face red, I hurried into the bathroom and quickly changed out, somewhat excited and anxious at the prospect of sparring.

The combat course was taught in a spacious, rectangular room, and the floor was made out of different textures laid out in equal slabs – padding, gravel, mud, water, ice, and cement.

I looked from one to the other. "What's up with the different floors?"

"They're arenas," Aden said, "to teach you how to fight on different surfaces."

I nodded, finding sense in it.

The rest of the room looked very similar to the one the Guild used back home to train in. Mirrors lined the walls, and punching bags hung fat and heavy from the ceiling. Sparring equipment – helmets, shin guards, and gloves – were stowed in cubbies off to the side, and a weapons rack, bearing everything from Sais to wooden staves, hung on the wall.

The rest of the class, a handful of soldiers around my age, was already gathered in the middle of the room, and when they saw Aden they gave him a salute. Everyone wore matching black uniforms, only I noted their chevrons were not bronze. They were all silver or gold, and each soldier had more than one on his or her sleeve.

I looked at Aden. "Am I in the wrong class? Everyone here is higher ranked than me."

Aden's mouth curled into a smug smile. "After fighting you myself, I suggested you train with the older soldiers."

"You what?"

He glanced at me, one brow quirked in challenge. "Scared?"

"No," I said haughtily, looking away. "Just surprised, that's all."

I heard him chuckle right before Rook walked into the room, dressed in black pants, combat boots, and a black tank top. His hair had been pulled back and his arms and chest bulged with muscles. I could see the outline of a six-pack through his top, and my brows rose.

"Rook's been working out," I murmured, but Aden shushed me.

"All right," Rook said, voice booming. For the second time upon arriving in the room, my brows rose. I didn't know Rook's voice could reach that volume. He had always been so gentle and soft spoken, but now he spoke with authority and menace. I didn't know what surprised me more – Rook's stunning new appearance or the fact that sweet, shy Rook was apparently our instructor. "We have a new recruit training with us today. Everyone, this is Sergeant McAllister."

Rook gestured toward me, and my classmates turned around. Surprise spread throughout the group as they took me in, realizing who I was.

"Now, regardless of previous... circumstances," Rook said, eyes hard as he surveyed his pupils, "we welcome her into our fold and will treat her like one of our own. Is that clear?"

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