Page 41 of A Sword of Shadow and Deceit

I follow the Darkhaven brothers to their classes in the mornings after my breakfast and carry their supplies—which mysteriously appeared on the table of their common room the morning following the first day. If Ruen is angry that I’ve refused his offer to escape, he doesn’t let on. Instead, he chooses to ignore my presence as much as he can. That, too, I’m fine with. Being an object with little to no animation suits my purposes quite well.

I watch as they yawn and half sleep through lessons on Divine history and Divine lineage but never fighting. It’s the fighting that confuses me. All Mortal Gods, regardless of Tiers, are taught—and with great concentration, I might add—to hone their individual abilities and use them in battle. Swords. Archery. Hand to hand. Even the weaker of the Tiers—third-class students within these walls—are given the same strict guidelines to better themselves.

And the only thing I can wonder is … why?

For as long as I’ve known why my blood makes me so dangerous, I’ve known Gods to fear death. If the only thing that can kill a Divine Being is one with Divine Blood flowing through their veins, shouldn’t they want their children to be weak and unable to fight back? One might think so.

Instead, the Mortal Gods who fail at training their bodies and developing their Divine skills are ridiculed and scolded. Becoming a Terra versus a student was a far better choice as it allows me to stand back and see it all. I am, for all intents and purposes, invisible until I’m needed and that’s just fine by me.

A rushing oomph escapes the female Mortal God as she’s tossed from the ring of her training class. At my side, Niall winces as the poor thing slams into the dirt, her head smacking against the solid ground with a loud crack. Her opponent, however, doesn’t stop. Instead, she dives over her, driving a fist straight into her face. The crunch of cartilage breaking under the assault reaches my ears, reminding me of my childhood.

“Don’t.” The warning comes out of my mouth before Niall can dive forward and assist the fallen Mortal God.

His wide puppy-dog eyes lift to me. “But she might need—”

I shake my head, cutting him off. “No one has called for you,” I remind him. “If you step away from the wall now, you’ll be punished. Trust me, you don’t want that.”

And just like that, my words do the trick. He settles back into position. Though I’d hated it at the time, it appears that my example on the first day of classes was enough for the rest of the new Terra to understand what happens when they displease their Masters or the faculty of the Academy. Despite that, though, Niall is one of few with a particularly soft heart. Even if the girl is currently being pummeled by her red-faced and grinning opponent, he can’t step in to help her.

“Alright, that’s enough!” All heads turn at the call of the God in charge of today’s training class. Standing more than a head taller than anyone else in the nearby area, Axlan, God of Victory, leans against the staff at his side as the sounds of fighting diminish.

The Mortal God duo that Niall and I had been watching separate and the girl that rises to her feet blinks past the blood coating her face. Call it curiosity, but my attention moves past her to my own charges.

Theos, Kalix, and Ruen stand several paces away, but none of them have been fighting with the others in the class. Instead, they take turns battling it out with each other in their own ring. The first time I’d noticed they didn’t interact with anyone else in this class, I’d expected the God in charge to demand they change opponents, but it never happened. Which can only mean one thing—they’ve already fought everyone in this class and have beaten them all. That, in turn, begs another question. Why have they been placed here if they’re too good for anyone else?

The answer, I realize, is something I’m about to get.

“Theos,” Axlan calls out, and gestures for him to step forward. Theos moves through the students until he stands before the God. The two could not be more different. Where Theos is light-haired and pale-skinned, Axlan has the ruddy complexion of a man who spends a great deal of time beneath the sun. Where Theos is slender and wiry, Axlan is broad. “What do you think?” Axlan demands.

Theos places his hands behind him, curling them into fists at the small of his back in much the same way I had during my days of training when both Regis and I had been lined up along with many other recruits—forced to run miles into the night, sweat through blood and tears, as we were screamed at to keep going. The similarity makes me curl my lips back in disgust. I dislike the comparison even though it was mine to make.

“Enid is ready for advancement,” Theos announces.

Axlan seems to consider this and turns his head. “Enid, approach.” The girl that had pummeled the face of the Mortal God Niall had been watching moves through the crowd proudly, her head tossed back and her shoulders straight. She doesn’t stop until she’s stationed side by side with Theos.

She’s only a few inches shorter than Theos, but unlike many of the other students in this class, she’s got the solid build of someone well-versed in fighting. Her sandy blonde hair is pulled back and up out of her face. I realize that my charges have not been placed in this class for training at all, but to pick out those who are ready to move forward. Interesting.

“This is your choice?” Axlan asks Theos who nods. “Fine then. Ruen?”

Without moving forward, Ruen responds. “I recommend Darius for advanced placement.”

I’m so focused on the girl that it takes me a moment to notice the way Theos stiffens at her side. When I do, however, I turn my attention to him and the rather shocked expression that sweeps over his face a moment before he suppresses it in favor of a look that’s more enigmatic. It’s fast, unnoticed by most, I suspect, but not by me.

Axlan turns and points to a tall boy farther behind where we’re standing. Darius, I assume. He’s big and broad, like the God himself with a mane of red hair that hangs to his shoulders, wet with sweat. “Alright then. Enid and Darius will be moving to advanced placement. The rest of you will continue to train,” Axlan announces.

My brow creases. Along the ring where Ruen still stands, Kalix rocks back and forth on his heels. If he was asked to be in this class, why was he not also asked for a recommended student? As if he can sense my attention, Kalix turns his head and meets my gaze. His grin is predatory. I straighten my spine but otherwise don’t change my expression. There’d be no point anyway. No doubt he’d take that as a challenge.

“Class dismissed.”

The moment those two words are called out over the dirt training field, the air of tension that seemed to linger disperses. Bloody faces are cleaned up and Terra move away from their positions against the long wall that surrounds the sides of the arena as they’re called to their Masters. Across the field, Kalix lifts a finger and curls it in.

I repress a curse as I sway away from the wall. “Good luck,” Niall offers as he bows his head and scurries towards his charge.

Luck. I’m not entirely sure if my entire life has been one fucking battle with it or not. On one hand, I’m still alive. And on the other, I’m always on the edge of discovery and subsequently death. What kind of life is one where you’re constantly worried about it ending?

I make my way across the field, moving quickly around both Terra and Mortal Gods until I’m finally standing before Kalix and Ruen. “You called for me?”

Kalix grins and moves forward, turning to face his brother as he swings an arm over my shoulders. “Sure did. What do you say we have some fun tonight?”

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