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)
"Good," Instructor Pilton says, tapping his pointing stick against his palm. "Your enemy outnumbers you, so find a clever edge to gain an advantage. This is a wise line of thought."
Raith's deep voice surprises me, rumbling through the classroom like distant thunder. "Nerra River is a mile south of the enemy's position. Prepare an ambush. Destroy the bridge when the primals are on it. Use the element of surprise to slaughter them before they know what has hit them."
Pilton raises his eyebrows, nodding. "Ah. Good. The fifth element, if you will. Surprise. While Bastian's idea is less direct risk, we must also consider the enemy will steal and pillage whatever we deprive them of by destroying logistics. They'll take a toll in blood before they are weakened enough for the advantage to hold. Raith's plan has the advantage of nearly immediately dealing with the problem, rather than letting enemies continue to ravage our lands and claim lives. Very good."
I roll my eyes at Mireen, who bites back a smile.
In every class I share with Raith, he excels. Even our instructors already seem to be favoring him. We haven't shared the sparring ring since the first day, but I can see him easily enough dominating his opponents. He's the most skilled first-year offering in the sparring ring, the strongest in the weight room, and when he decides to speak up in class, he always earns the approval of our instructors.
In truth, part of me is just annoyed I can't dare try to show him up in our academic classes. But trying to flex my brain and prove how smart I am would only draw attention. Attention, I've decided, is something I must avoid at all costs. Attention means questions. It means scrutiny. And scrutiny would likely mean exposing my unbound mark.
"What do you think Pilton would say if I suggested talking to them?" I whisper to Mireen and Ambrose. If the situation Pilton described was real, I'd honestly just want to know why they were in our territory. Chances are, it would be on orders from their leadership, and there could be a way to negotiate. Maybe they just need supplies or some information. Compared to thousands of lives, it seems like a much better option.
"Talking to them?" Ambrose asks, eyebrows raised high above the rims of his glasses.
"I think he might throw chalk at your head if you suggest that," Mireen says, nudging me with her elbow.
Instructor Pilton is currently ripping apart Serena’s idea about attacking them head on "for the glory of Empire."
"The enemy is not human!" Ambrose mocks in a whispered impression of Pilton. "They're violent, bloodthirsty animals. Would you—"
A piece of chalk bounces off Ambrose's forehead, stopping him mid-sentence. He adjusts his glasses, blinking in surprise.
"If you have something to add to this discussion, offering," Pilton says, his voice deadly calm, "I invite you to stand and share it with the rest of us."
Ambrose pales. "No, sir. Sorry, sir."
Pilton snorts and turns back to the map, but not before his eyes flicker briefly to me. I drop my gaze to my notes, suddenly very interested in the sketch I've made of troop formations.
I feel someone watching me and glance up to find Raith turned in his seat, eyes boring into mine. His expression is unreadable, but there's something assessing in his gaze that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I hold his stare for a heartbeat, or two, before he turns back to the front, leaving me feeling undressed by his eyes, measured me for a coffin, or both.
Charming.
When class is over, legacies rise first to leave. Aspirants follow, and then finally the offerings head out.
"Think Instructor Sestra is going to go any easier on you today?" Mireen asks as we head toward the southern wing of campus where channeling class is held.
"Doubt it." The thought of channeling class makes my stomach clench with dread. Two weeks of trying and I still haven't been able to produce even a drop of water.
Ambrose nudges me from my other side. "Have you tried... not being terrible at magic, Nessa? I imagine that would really work wonders with the woman."
"Oh, yeah? That's a genius idea. I can't believe I didn't think of it." I shove him back, but there's no real force behind it.
We're passing through the courtyard when I see Serena and a pair of fire affinities huddled in the shade of a tree with Malakai and what must be his "team."
I slow my pace and then stop to stare. "What do you think that's about?"
Ambrose runs his tongue over his teeth. "Well, Serena doesn't appear to be stabbing anyone. That rules out my best guesses."
"You think Malakai is trying to make some kind of cross-affinity alliance? Is that a thing?" I ask.
Mireen shakes her head, blue eyes catching the mid-afternoon sun streaming into the courtyard. "If it's not, I think they're trying to make it one."