Page 3 of Power of Draken

Collin gives me a tight, appreciative smile. It’s harder for enchanters to get promoted and I know Collin was disappointed to not make the combat track—but I’m telling him the truth. The fusion year, when the tracks merge, is all about real field training. Within a few months, we’ll be going beyond the wards—and then everyone will want a healer around.

Unlike me. I’m going to be an utter liability all year long.

“You really think all my work will count for something?” he asks, giving me those large puppy dog eyes that he knows I can’t resist. Even if I know he’s fishing for compliments.

“Absolutely. Grayson is irrelevant—your ratings speak for themselves. I completely expect to see you at the top of the merit list at the end of the year.” That means promotion, choice assignments, privileges that everyone covets but only the few favored get.

"You are important too, Ro," Collin says quickly. "I mean with your alchemy. Without you, we've no chance against the fae and draken."

"Without the auric alloy I make, you mean.” Alchemical magic might be vital for Eryndor’s survival, but the container said magic comes in—me—is anything but a source of pride to, well, anyone. I shift my weight to take the pressure off my aching hip. I didn’t injure it—it just aches. Like my joints do from time to time. Because… there is no because. It's just the way it is. “Grayson is going to make my life hell.”

“You don’t actually know that the commandant told him to do that.”

“From what we know of him, does he need to be told?”

Collin gives me a sympathetic look. "It’s just one more year, Ro. One final hurdle. Everyone knows that the minute you get your rank, you’ll be pulled right back to an alchemy workshop at a Spire."

"Because no one wants me at the front."

"You don't want you in the front,” he counters. "What does it matter if other people agree? Plus, you want us stationed together after graduation, don’t you?”

I nod. Collin is right. Even if I was a contender for the top of the merit list—which I'm not—the only way for us to be stationed together is for one person to follow the other’s lead. Collin has always wanted to rise through the ranks and make a name for himself. I've always wanted everyone to forget mine. If we graduate and get married like he wants us to, I would be stationed close to him—most likely at the nearest large outpost or Spire. Anywhere I can set up a workshop, make alloy, and not get myself killed.

There is a shift up front and curt applause from the formation as one of the instructors steps forward to talk about the meticulous process leadership went through to select this year’s cadet commander. Which is utter fiction. The commander of the fusion year is always a top combat track cadet, who’d spent the previous two years beating out the competition for the chance to make other people's lives miserable.

“Why do we choose a commander based on who can throw the best punch or crank out the most push-ups?” I murmur to Collin. "I mean, does that not seem like a stupid leadership quality to anyone else?”

He starts to laugh but gets control of his face in time for the instructor to give the order I’ve been dreading.

“Cadet Commander Kai Grayson, you are hereby ordered to present yourself and assume command of the forty seventh cohort of Spire East Command.”

There is a momentary pause as a man detaches himself from the sea of black uniforms and strides to the front of the formation with a predator’s prowl that spurs my heart into a gallop. As he passes between the rows of cadets, they straighten instinctively and seem to somehow move out of his way, though no one breaks formation. Then he ascends the dais, and I get my first clear look at Kai Grayson.

Grayson looks like he was bred for war, all lean muscle and coiled power. Dirty blond hair, long enough that he has it tied back with a leather thong, frames the defined lines of his jaw and intense blue eyes that hold all the warmth of glacial ice. The brace of throwing knives he has strapped to one thigh is a perfect match to the friendly demeanor of his. I don't doubt he has more blades hidden about him too—with that aura of leashed violence that clings to him, he must.

Grayson surveys the assembled cadets, the movement stretching his uniform taut across his chest and shoulders. I try not to stare, try to blend into the anonymity of the formation. Maybe Collin is right and the commandant said nothing to Grayson about me at all. Maybe he won’t give a rat’s ass for anyone in enchanter red, much less an awkward alchemist who stays out of his way. Grayson is the most dangerously attractive man I have ever seen. He’ll have better things to occupy him than bother with the likes of me.

I’ve just about convinced myself of all that, when Grayson’s gaze lands right on my face and lingers there, a flash of recognition and then evaluation.

Shit.

As I watch, Grayson reaches up to briefly brush a small pendant hanging from his neck, his thumb pressing a dark ring with an iridescent core. Shadows spread outward from around him, flaring for a moment before he pulls them back. Great. Grayson isn’t just a honed warrior, he has umbromancy in his blood too. Just… perfect.

And he is still staring at me, as if trying to commit my every flaw to memory. Or maybe he just wants a good before image, to compare to the after he thinks he can forge.

As quickly as it had found me, Grayson’s attention moves on, his hands locking behind his back as he faces the instructors, his eyes once more cold and remote. And yet I can still feel the intensity of his gaze boring into me—and it makes heat flood every cell of my body.

Chapter3

Rowan

"This feels like a horse market," I mutter, setting my lunch tray down beside Ellie's at the mess hall. Until this year, we took our meals with the other enchanters studying at Spire East, but now we are officially in our fusion year so we have to eat with the combat track students. At present, that amounts to Kai Grayson and his leadership cadre looking over us before making squad assignments that maximize unit efficiency. Or minimize liability. Same difference.

And by leadership cadre, I mean the triad. Kai Grayson, Kyrian Sorel, and Logan Vance—plus two tall blondes from the combat track, who are perched on each of Logan’s thighs—preside over the mess hall from a table by the back wall. The girls alternate feeding Logan from a bowl of nuts and berries, and folding their hands on top of each other, as if touching him directly is beyond their right as mere mortals. The three don’t just look like gods of war made flesh, they act like it too.

Grayson shifts his weight and, before I can look away, his ice blue eyes go right to me. The way they did at formation. Penetrating me. Making my body heat in response.

I clear my throat and snap my focus back on Ellie. "It's one step short of them asking us to smile and check our teeth out."

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