It is my opinion that of all the signet powers riders provide, mending is the most precious, but we cannot allow ourselves to become complacent when in the company of such a signet. For menders are rare, and the wounded are not.
—Major Frederick's Modern Guide for Healers
Dain carried Violet through a passage out of the Rider's Quadrant and into the Healer's.
Imogen and I followed, my broken nose dripping blood freely on the floor while she limped and cradled her right hand, bent at an awkward angle.
Professor Emetterio walked behind us, making sure I didn't attack her again. Even though she deserved it.
It took four people to pull Imogen and I off each other and then he laid into both of us.
He let me off with a warning - because this was only my second day - and a promise to report me straight to Commandant Panchek if I took another step out of line. I was sure he was just too scared to get on the General's bad side by enforcing punishment on his only child this early in the year. At least, my warning wasn't going to be recorded anywhere so I couldn't get in any trouble with the General.
Dain insisted on giving Imogen two weeks of kitchen duties because she was a second-year and should know better. She used powers on the mat and tried to stab Violet with a dagger. She did not get a harsh enough punishment and I voiced that, increasing her sentence to a month. The look she gave me, then, rivaled Xaden's initial reaction to me.
Dain kicked the door three times.
It swung open and Winifred, one of Violet's two Healers, and the one who taught me all I know about the art, stood back so we could all walk in.
"Another injury? You riders certainly are trying to fill our beds to- Oh no, Violet?" Her eyes flew wide.
"Hi, Winifred," I lifted a hand and waved at her.
"You too, Isla?" She shook her head at me. "This way."
She led us into the infirmary, a long hall of beds, half of which were full of people in rider black. Healers did not have magic, relying on traditional tinctures and medical training to heal as best they can, but menders like Nolon, Violet's other Healer and Winifred's husband, did.
The signet of mending was exceptionally rare among riders. They had the power to fix, restore, and return anything to its original state - from ripped cloth to pulverized bridges, including broken human bones.
The oldest Sorrengail, Brennan, was a mender and would have become one of the greatest had he lived.
Winifred divided us up into three separate areas at Emetterio's request. Probably to stop me from lunging at Imogen again once Winifred detailed all of Violet's injuries. She knew me well.
"I'm Tila," A healer I had never met before introduced as she cleaned up the blood on my face. She positioned her hands on either side of my nose. "This is going to hurt."
This wasn't my first time with a broken nose, or even my fifth. I braced myself against the cot I was lying on, as she grabbed onto my face and yanked.
I flinched as flames of agony ignited on my face and Tila leaned over, checking her work. She handed me an ice pack and went over the standard list of instructions.
It should take two and a half weeks to heal, sleep on your back and not your sides, blah, blah, blah.
Winifred walked into my room and I moved to hug her, now that I knew I wouldn't get any blood on her, but she didn't return it and instead glared at me as Tila left.
"Dain told me what happened." I winced and opened my mouth to explain myself but she cut me off, her voice increasing with her anger. "I've told you countless times to get that temper of yours under control. You knew, coming in there, that you were going to be a target solely because of your last name. You cannot make yourself into a bigger target or you will fall and bring Violet down with you." Her tone softened. "You certainly shouldn't have to suffer for the honor of your father, but things aren't always as they should be."
"Is Vi alright?"
She glared at me again. "I'm not answering that. If you could jump into a fight like that, you can sit here for an hour to make sure the swelling goes down, without knowing how she is."
Professor Emetterio walked in when she left, leaning on the wall with his arms crossed as he looked over me.
He dipped his chin. "You're General Melgren's daughter."
It wasn't a question and he obviously knew that already. I still answered. "Yes."
"With those maneuvers, I'm not surprised." His gaze met mine, his expression stoney. "I don't think training with the first years will be a good fit for you. I want you to attend the second- year training, and we'll go from there."
I tried to keep my reaction neutral, to keep my eyes from widening. I'd never heard of that happening. In fact, I was sure it had never happened before.
That couldn't happen.
The General may have wanted me to be the best but he didn't want me to be better than him. If I moved up to the second-year training, he'd end up threatening whoever he had to and move me back down. There was no point and he'd only end up embarrassing me.
"I'd rather stay where I am." I shook my head. I knew Violet could handle herself, but that didn't mean I didn't want to be there in case she needed backup or Imogen pulled a stunt like that again - although I doubted she'd dare. "Sir."
His gaze narrowed, "You're the best-trained first-year I have ever seen and your sparring methods are unparalleled - some of the likes of which even I haven't seen before. You brought one of the strongest second-years to her knees in minutes and you hadn't even started training with me. I have never seen someone walk away from a fight with Imogen better off than her, but you did. Fighting with the other first-years is only doing a disservice to yourself but in the end, it is your decision."
My face was firm when I replied. "I already made my decision."
He shook his head in disappointment and left the room.
The barracks were nearly full by the time Violet and I made our way back later that night. Her right arm was cradled in a light-blue sling and I had a new ice pack. My nose looked a lot better and the swelling had visibly gone down.
My nose wasn't much of an issue when it came to the others but Violet's sling would be. It was going to make her a bigger target. All the cadets had heard her scream on the mat. Slings said weak and breakable. They said that she was a liability to the wing. If she was this fragile on the mat, how was she going to manage fighting on the back of a dragon?
I didn't know how I was expected to protect her from everything this Quadrant could throw at us - especially considering I couldn't exactly enclose her in bubble wrap and refuse to let her fight.
The sun had long since gone down, but the hall was lit by the soft glow of mage lights as the other first-year women got ready for bed. I offered a smile to a girl who was holding a blood-speckled cloth to her swollen lip, and she returned it with a wince.
There were three empty bunks in our row.
"You're here!" Rhiannon jumped off her bed, already dressed in her sleeping shorts and top, relief clearly visible in her eyes and smile, as she saw us.
"I'm here," Violet assured her. "I'm already down one shirt, but I'm here."
"You can get another at central issue tomorrow."
Rhiannon slung an arm over my shoulders, pulling me into a side hug, as she questioned both of us. "How bad is it?"
"It's going to hurt for the next few days, but I'll be fine as long as I keep it immobilized. I'll be all healed up before we start on-mat challenges." Violet responded.
"I just need to keep icing it. It should be fixed in the next fortnight." I turned to Violet, "We'll help you get ready for sparring." On-mat challenges were in two weeks and she would need every second of it to get ready.
"And I'll help you both with history."
"We'll be unstoppable," Rhiannon declared, a grin on her face.
I eyed Violet as she pulled out a small book - a journal - with a folded note on top that says Isla and Violet in Mira's handwriting from under her pillow. I took the note from her and unfolded it.
Darlings,
I stayed long enough to read the rolls this morning, and neither of you were in them, thank gods. I can't stay. I'm needed back with my wing, and even if I could stay, they wouldn't let me see you anyway. I bribed a scribe to sneak this into your bunk. I hope you know how proud I am to know you both. Brennan wrote this for me the summer before I entered the quadrant. It saved me, and it can save you both, too. I added my own bits of hard-earned wisdom here and there, but mostly it's his, and I know he'd want you to have it. He'd want his sisters to live.
Love,
Mira.
I swallowed past the knot in my throat, blinking back against the sudden moisture in my eyes. He'd want his sisters to have it.
"What is it?" Rhiannon asked.
"It's my brother's."
I peered over Violet's shoulder as she opened the cover.
General Sorrengail burned everything he owned after he died, as tradition dictates. It's been ages since I had seen the bold strokes of his handwriting, and yet there they were. My chest tightened and a fresh wave of grief swept through me.
"The book of Brennan," Violet read along with the first page and then flipped to the second.
Mira,
You're a Sorrengail, so you will survive. Perhaps not as spectacularly as I have, but we all can't live up to my standards, can we? All kidding aside, this is everything I've learned. Keep it safe. Keep it hidden. You have to live because Isla and Violet are watching. Isla will need this when it's her turn.
You can't let her see you fall.
Brennan.
Tears pricked at my eyes again, but I blinked them back. Gods, I missed him.
"It's just his journal," Violet lied to Rhiannon, thumbing through the pages.
I could hear his quippy, sarcastic tone as I skimmed over his words, as though he was standing here, making light of every danger with a wink and a grin.
"He died five years ago." My voice was barely above a whisper.
"Oh, that's-" Rhiannon leaned in, her eyes heavy with sympathy. "We don't always burn everything, either. Sometimes it's nice to have something, you know?
Rhiannon sat back on her bed, opening her history book, and giving us as much privacy as she could as my eyes fell onto the pages.
I sat down on Violet's bed, knees pressed to my chest, and pulled out my sketchpad, drawing the outline of Brennan's eyes as she began reading aloud, soft enough that only I could hear her. Violet lay down, placing a pillow against my legs as she lay against them, as we had done countless times before.
"You survived Parapet. Good. Be observant the next few days, and don't do anything to draw attention to yourself. I've sketched a map that shows you not only where the classrooms are but where the instructors meet, too. I know you're nervous about challenges, but you shouldn't be, not with that right hook of yours. The matches might seem random, but they're not. What the instructors don't tell you is that they decide challenges the week before, Mira. Any cadet can request a challenge, yes, but instructors will assign your matches based on weeding out the weakest. That means once the real hand-to-hand starts, the instructors already know who you'll be up against that day. Here's the secret - if you know where to look and can get out without being seen, you'll know who you're fighting so you can prepare."
My eyes opened at that and Violet and I exchanged glances. If she knew who she was fighting, then she could begin the battle before they even stepped on the mat.
Two weeks, that was how long we had to get everything we needed before challenges began. A slow smile spread across my face.
I knew how to help Violet survive.
