Page 72 of House of Ydril

“Your fucking attitude.”

“Myattitude?” I take a step closer to him, my hands balling into fists. “I’m not the one refusing to apologize for being a complete asshole and adding insult to injury by pouting like a fucking toddler.”

He just keeps staring at me, but now his nostrils are flaring and his chest heaving.

But it’s at that exact moment that I hear voices boom from the other side of the training grounds. The Vipers are coming for their session.

He takes a step back and squeezes out, “Good job, you’ve managed to waste all our time. You’re dismissed.”

I ignore the stab, turn on my heel and start walking towards the benches. “I’m going to watch them train.”

“Suit yourself,” he replies coldly.

Once I take my seat, I see that he’s gone to greet them and that they’ve surrounded him like a waddle of ducklings. I squint. Harry’s patting him on the back while Zelda and Sarya are laughing at something he said. I frown, although it’s not the first time he’s proved that he can be pleasant. When he wants to, at least.

It’s only then that I notice Leo missing. Fucker, I think as I recall the last box of chocolates. I honestly can’t believe I’m letting that guy force me into saying no to dates for the Ball. I’ll really have to do something about it, as soon as I catch some free time between trying to prevent the bloodbath and not letting my royal trainer’s pleasant personality drive me crazy.

I spend the next hour on the bench, watching the Vipers train. Faust doesn’t join, he just cuts in with feedback every now and again. At one point, I hear him let out a laugh and it makes me freeze. He’s never done that before, at least not when I was around. The sound is rough and playful and makes me want to hear more, my thighs clenching in anticipation.

But the session seems to be over and now he’s walking up to where I’m sitting, his face back to being devoid of any expression. And there they all are, running after him. I keep sitting there awkwardly as they all throw themselves on the benches around me.

And they start talking as if I’m not there, but they don’t try to put a lot of space between us. They’re chatting about techniques I’ve never heard of. Three-Legged Monster, Duncan’s Lock and others with names I wouldn’t even be able to repeat.

I keep sitting there hoping for a chance to cut in with a question about the Trials. But I don’t expect them to include me in the conversation themselves.

“Longborn,” Harry barks out at one point, making me practically jump up with surprise, “you probably know everything there is to know about the Herigast Stance.”

For a second, I just blink at him, expecting them all to take his lead and start mocking me. But when I see the grins on their faces, I realize that that’s not what they’re doing. They’reteasingme.

I scoff. “That one’s so basic, Harry,” I dare to say. “If you want, I can teach you some more advanced things,” I continue, determined to see this through as I lift my hand to start counting on my fingers. “Falling Face First, Not Even Spotting Your Opponent…”

At this point, there’s already loud laughter coming from everyone but Faust, but I add one more, just for the fun of it. “Blinking Your Enemies Away…”

It makes me smile, the way Harry in particular seems to be dying of laughter. The moment doesn’t get ruined even when I notice Faust’s eyes dart to me and linger, not even cracking a smile.

“But seriously,” I say when the laughter dies down a little, “does anyone know what we’ll be up against in the Third Round?”

Harry laughs. “Gotten cocky, have we?” he says. “If I’m not mistaken, you have to survive the Second first.”

I smile. “Sure, but the Third is far deadlier, right?”

There’s a moment of silence during which everyone seems to turn serious. I hold my breath, thinking I’ve made a mistake.

To my surprise, Faust is the first to break the silence. “All assignments are kept secret,” he says, surprising me with the lack of condescension in his tone. “That’s the only way to keep things fair.”

I notice Sarya shooting him a look, her eyes darting to me first, which makes my ears prick up.

He catches it, pauses for a second and then just tips his head back a little, nudging her to speak.

“Well,” she starts, “I was planning on telling you after the session. Just yesterday, I overheard my parents talking about it.”

How convenient, I think to myself, but I don’t linger on it.

“And?” Faust urges her to go on.

“I guess there are rumors about a donation made to the Academy to bring out some stone for the Third Round.”

My eyes dart to Faust, whose eyebrows are pulling into a frown. “A donation? Made by whom?”

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