The sparring ring is where riders are made or broken. After all, no respectable dragon would choose a rider who cannot defend themselves, and no respectable cadet would allow such a threat to the wing to continue training.
—Major Afendra's Guide to the Riders Quadrant (Unauthorized Edition)
"Elena Sosa, Jace Sutherland." Captain Fitzgibbons read from the death roll, flanked by two other scribes on the dais as we stood in silent formation in the courtyard, squinting into the early sun.
This morning, we were all in rider black, and there was a single silver four-pointed star on my collarbone, the mark of a first-year, and a Fourth Wing patch on my shoulder.
We were issued standard uniforms yesterday, summer-weight tight-fitted tunics, pants, and accessories after Parapet was over, but not flight leathers.
There was no point handing out the thicker, more protective combat uniforms when half of us won't be around come Threshing in October.
The armored corsets Mira made Violet and me weren't regulation, but we did fit right in among the hundreds of modified uniforms.
After the last twenty-four hours and one night in the first-floor barracks, I was starting to realize that this quadrant was a strange mix of we-might-die-tomorrow hedonism and brutal efficiency in the name of the same reason.
"Brayden Blackburn." Captain Fitzgibbons continued to read, and the scribes next to him shifted their weight.
Brayden's name sounded familiar. I tried to trace the memory and when I figured it out, I gasped and turned to Violet, a teasing smirk on my face. She stared straight ahead, her lips pursed. "Not. A. Word."
She slept with him last year at a party his friend had thrown. Although, she didn't even count it as actual sex because of how awful it was.
"Dougal Luperco." I think we were somewhere in the fifties, but I lost count when he read Dylan's name a few minutes ago.
I tried to remember everyone's names but there were just too many, and eventually, they slipped from my mind almost as soon as they were read.
My skin was agitated from wearing the armor all night like Mira suggested, and the wound on my hand itched.
There were a hundred and fifty-six of us in the first floor of the dormitory building, our beds positioned in four neat rows in the open space.
Even though Jack Barlowe was put in the third-floor dorms, I was not about to let any of them see any weaknesses. Not until I knew who I could trust. Private rooms were like flight leathers - you didn't get one until you survive Threshing.
"Simone Casteneda." Captain Fitzgibbons closed the scroll. "We commend their souls to Malek." The god of death.
There was no formal conclusion to the formation, no last moment of silence.
The names on the scroll left the dais with the scribes, and the quiet was broken as the squad leaders all turned and began to address their squads.
"Hopefully you all ate breakfast because you're not going to get another chance before lunch," Dain had been staring at Violet for the past twenty minutes but now he ripped his gaze away.
"He's good at pretending he doesn't know you," Rhiannon whispered at our side.
"He is," Violet replied.
He was most definitely not. Dain was a horrible actor and whenever we tried play-acting as children, he would absolutely ruin it for me and Violet by laughing every five seconds. Even now, his eyes kept finding her, almost unconsciously.
"Second and third-years, I'm assuming you know where to go," Dain continued as the scribes wound their way around the edge of the courtyard to my right, headed back to their quadrant.
There was a mutter of agreement from the senior cadets ahead of us. As first-years, we were in the back two rows of the little square that makes up Second Squad.
"First-years, at least one of you should have memorized your academic schedule when it was handed out yesterday." I was definitely not one of them. I would bet all my money that Violet, however, memorized it within the first few minutes of receiving it. "Stick together. I expect you all to be alive when we meet this afternoon in the sparring gym."
Sparring was one of my favorite parts of training. I was fast and strong and confident I could get through most sessions unscathed.
"And if we're not?" the smart-ass first-year behind me asked. I didn't bother looking at him, and neither did Violet, but Rhiannon did, rolling her eyes as she turned back forward.
"Then I won't have to be concerned with learning your name since it will be read off tomorrow morning," Dain answered with a shrug.
A second-year ahead of me snorted a laugh, the movement jangling two small hoop earrings in her left lobe, but the pink-haired one stayed silent.
"Sawyer?" Dain looked at the first-year to my left.
"I'll get them there." The tall, wiry cadet whose light complexion was covered with a smattering of freckles answered with a tight nod. His jaw ticked and my chest panged with faint sympathy. He was one of the repeats - a cadet who didn't bond during Threshing and now had to start the entire year over.
"Get going," Dain ordered, and our squad broke apart around the same time the others did, transforming the courtyard from an orderly formation to a crowd of chatting cadets. The second and third years, including Dain, walked off in another direction.
"We have about twenty minutes to get to class," Sawyer shouted at the eight of us first-years. "Fourth floor, second room on the left in the academic wing. Get your shit and don't be late." He didn't bother waiting for us to confirm we'd heard him before he headed off toward the dormitory.
"That has to be hard," Rhiannon said as we followed the crowd toward the dorms. "Being set back and having to do this all over again."
"Better than being dead," the smart-ass said as he passed us on the right, his dark-brown hair flopping against the brown skin of his forehead with every step the shorter cadet took. His name was Ridoc, if I remembered correctly. The brief introductions we went through before dinner last night were hazy. I've always had a terrible memory.
Normally, I think I'd agree with him, but knowing the General and what he'd do if I didn't graduate, I would rather be dead.
A bird whistled to the left, and I looked over the crowd because I immediately recognized the tone. Dain. The call sounded again, and I narrowed it down to somewhere near the door to the rotunda. He was standing at the top of the wide staircase, and he gestured toward Violet. I nudged her and he motioned toward the door with a subtle nod.
"I'll be-" She started saying to Rhiannon, but she had already followed her line of sight.
"We'll grab your stuff and meet you there." I winked at Violet as she walked toward him.
The sky was dark and the stars shined like floating specks of glitter and I was still awake.
I simply could not turn my brain off. I often ran at night. The cooler temperatures were much more amenable to exercise in and as the General repeated many times, heatstroke would only set my training back.
A burst of restlessness had me sitting up and climbing out of my bed, placing my shoes on so carefully as to not wake anyone up.
I slunk out of the barracks and walked the grounds as silently as I could, sticking to the shadows. If I were to get caught after curfew there was no telling the consequences. I walked to the edge of the camp, finding the edge of the buildings before I began running. I started in a jog, running around the expanse of Basgaith before I elevated myself to a sprint. My legs began to burn, and yet I pushed myself to the absolute limits as my breath began quickening and my heartbeat pounded mercilessly.
I only stopped - hours later - when I absolutely could not take another step. I stumbled to a halt, gasping for breath, legs trembling beneath me.
I placed my hands on my knees, hunching over as my entire body protested the extensive movement.
My father had had me sprinting until I'd thrown up the contents of my stomach, and the move had simply been ingrained in me over the years.
I hadn't done it in a long while, but that didn't mean the urge wasn't there anymore.
I caught my breath, a breeze shifting past and tousling my hair-
I felt it again.
That prickling feeling that had my entire body going rigid as I straightened my spine. My breath was still in a soft pant, but I forced myself to quiet, to listen. And...nothing. Not a sound, not so much as the whisper of an intake of breath.
But I could feel it. An odd feeling, albeit, but still a feeling. Someone was watching, waiting.
And I had the sinking feeling that I was in danger.
I palmed my dagger and turned on my feet, my gaze narrowing into slits as I studied the world around me.
I had stopped in a stone walkway, cobbled pillars lining the hall almost prettily. It was barren around me, not a person in sight.
My guard did not lower an inch as I took a steady step forward. My head tilted from side to side as I watched, waiting for the stalker to make themselves known.
No one came out of the shadows.
I shook my head, wiping the sweat off my forehead. Gods, I was going crazy here.
I didn't know how long it would take for me to hallucinate more than just eyes on my back.
But my dagger remained firmly in my grasp as I went back to my barracks and I still held on to it as I slept.
Better safe than dead.