Total pages in book: 214
Estimated words: 195876 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 979(@200wpm)___ 784(@250wpm)___ 653(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 195876 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 979(@200wpm)___ 784(@250wpm)___ 653(@300wpm)
"Nessa..." he begins, his voice rough.
Someone knocks at the door, dragging Raith’s focus from me. He guides me to sit on the edge of the bed again, taking time to make sure I'm settled before he moves to answer the door.
I hear him stopping each person before they can enter and see them whispering what I assume is the daily passcode in his ear.
Mireen bursts in first, Beck and Ambrose close behind her. Brunhild brings up the rear, her massive frame filling the doorway as she surveys the room with obvious curiosity.
"You're looking better," Mireen says, assessing me with a critical eye. "There's actually some color in your face now, though you still look like you could use about three more days of sleep."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence," I say dryly, but I can't keep the smile from my face. Despite seeing them just yesterday, the sight of my friends brings comfort. "I'm getting stronger by the hour."
"Looks like you could already get on your feet and give us a run for our money," Beck notes, dropping into Raith's desk chair and immediately putting his feet up on the small writing desk.
"Get your feet off my desk," Raith says, voice low and deadly.
Beck pops out of the chair like he's been stung by a bee, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yep. Yes, Sir.."
"It's remarkable how quickly you're recovering," Ambrose says. "I assume it's a benefit of your healing manifestation?"
"I'm still not sure how to explain it," I say, conscious of Raith watching from the doorway, his posture alert as if he expects danger to follow my friends into the room.
"Any other perks manifesting?" Ambrose asks, his expression eager behind his glasses. "After what you did for Raith, I've been theorizing about the possible extent of your healing abilities."
"Nessa has better things to do, Ambrose," Mireen cuts in. "She's probably dying for updates on what's going on while she's stuck in here."
Brunhild strides forward, assesses me, and nods seriously. "Good. Power returns," she says with an approving nod. "Need strength for Crucible."
Her presence here and apparent knowledge of my status means she must officially be our fifth member, now. And if we can’t trust her… well, I suppose the consequences would’ve already come for me.
"Speaking of the Crucible," I say. "What's the latest? I heard you had some kind of important Crucible prep to do last night."
"We spent the afternoon doing reconnaissance," Mireen says, settling beside me. "I think we've identified where Malakai's allies are storing those weapons I mentioned."
"Where?" Raith asks, suddenly interested.
Nobody mentioned stored weapons to me, but I assume it must have been something I learned while half-conscious. Either that, or they’re assuming I won’t be recovered in time to help.
"Eastern wing, third floor, behind a false panel in what used to be an old armory storage room," Beck says. "And these aren't just practice blades. We're talking actual steel. Daggers, short swords, even a few bows and arrows."
"How did they get those?" I ask, stunned. "Weapons like that are locked up until graduation. And I can't imagine upper years caring enough about their... cause to risk their own status here by providing them."
"That's the interesting part," Ambrose says, leaning forward. "Based on the markings I glimpsed, they appear to be Empire issued weapons. Not the kind made for Confluence primals-in-training. The kind given to rank-and-file soldiers."
Raith and I exchange looks. "Someone on the outside is helping them," Raith concludes, his voice hard.
"Exactly," Ambrose confirms. "But I asked around and consulted a few texts. Soldiers can't just ask nicely for replacement weapons. And the blacksmiths under Empire employ get only enough raw materials to make what is ordered."
"So you're saying someone should know these weapons are missing," I say. "Somebody high up. Or somebody with enough power to cover up that number of weapons going missing is helping them?"
Ambrose nods. "Right. Either way, somebody important with a lot of power is trying to help Malakai and his people slaughter us during the Crucible."
"Legacies have power and connections," Mireen says slowly. "Could it be one of them? Bastian, maybe?"
"No," I say a little too quickly. I wince when every head in the room turns to me.
A faint throb of jealous anger flashes in my mind. I have no doubt it's from Raith.
"It just doesn't add up," I continue. "If Raith told you everything, I assume he told you about the conversation we heard Bastian having with his father."
Mireen's eyes fall. "That's right. Bastian wanted him to call off the Crucible entirely. Not exactly logical if you're risking everything to smuggle weapons in to make it more deadly."
"Unless he planned on you hearing that conversation," Ambrose suggests. "Or if the weapons are for something else unrelated to the Crucible."
"There are more legacies," Beck says. "I only know of one that wishes he could get in Nessa's pants. Probably safer to assume it's another one of them. Or somebody completely on the outside. Does it really matter, though? The bad guys are going to have sharp pokey sticks. So fucking what? We've got magic and elementals. Fuck 'em and their weapons."