Page 5 of Power of Draken

Collin musters a dignified nod and stares at the tomatoes on his plate.

"Let me save you some time, Grayson," I say. "We are all below your standard at this table. So go intimidate someone else."

Collin struggles to suppress a cringe.

Kai stares me down, which makes his strong jaw look even more pronounced."You don't want a chance to be in the flag patrol, Lexington?"

"Not if it's your flag being carried." I pop a piece of strawberry into my mouth. We might as well have this out now, just so there is no misunderstanding on where I stand on whatever plan he and my mother may have concocted. Or where I stand with him in general. "Like you said, you only want the top. So, off you go."

I pick up another strawberry as if mouthing off to commanders is a daily occurrence for me, but inside my heart is beating faster with every second Grayson sits with us. If he is going to throw me into the brig for insubordination, I’d rather get it over with now though, because I know there is no way in hell I’m going to spend the year genuflecting to him. I despise bullies, no matter how gorgeous a package they come in.

Kai ignores me and raises his hand, beckoning to someone. A moment later, another of the triad saunters to our table, grabbing a chair on his way. His dark hair is tousled, covering the tops of his ears and his eyes, his eyes—as blue and piercing as Grayson’s but dancing with a great deal more mischief—lock with mine briefly. He sets the chair beside Kai and straddles it, swinging one leg over the back effortlessly to sit. “What?”

“Kyrian, meet Rowan Lexington. The newest member of your patrol.” He points toward me with his chin. “Top academic scores in her year. So you’ll have at least one body that can read. Lexington, this is Kyrian Sorel. Your new master and commander.”

Kyrian shrugs a shoulder, which shouldn't look sexy as hell but somehow does. "Right. Welcome to the flag." He extends his hand, the sleeves of his tunic rolled up and showing off corded forearms with the tail of a tattoo I can’t make out peeking from the left side.

His handshake is brief but confident, a subtle show of strength that makes my already swift pulse rise another octave. “Good to have ye, Rowan.” Kyrian adds, his words rolling off his tongue with a melodic lilt. His accent wraps around each syllable like a velvet embrace, the r’s curling and purring in his throat.

I pull my hand back quickly, but not without feeling his calloused fingers trail along my palm. Even with my hand safely back in my lap, I still feel the warmth of his touch.

What in the hells just happened?

Kyrian pulls a patch from his pocket and tosses it onto the table. “Put that on yer left shoulder. And while you are at it, get yourself a black uniform.”

“But… Enchanters wear red.”

“So do corpses. I think I’ll do without turning my patrol into a walking bullseye from a draken’s perspective. Change.”

Ellie chokes on a laugh.

Collin clears his throat. As if I'd forget him. I straighten my spine, quickly recalibrating myself. "I need Collin Chambers assigned to the same patrol as me,” I tell Kyrian.

"Not my problem," Kai answers for Kyrian. “Or his either.”

"An alchemist has to be assigned with a healer,” I protest. “And Collin knows me best. So either we go together, or neither of us comes. I personally would really rather you chose the second option." I'm completely making up the rule about alchemists and healers, but Collin and Ellie nod along as if it's true. With some luck neither of the combat cadets have dug through the enchanter's three inch thick regulations codex.

Kai rises and turns away, as if I’d not spoken. "Chambers, rut-off. Lexington, change your uniform and report to Kyr when he says. We are done here."

“Wait.” Collin jumps to his feet, his hands pressing into the table. Kai ignores him and keeps walking, but Kyrian turns, gracing him with another moment of his time.

“You are making a mistake,” Collin tells him. “You don’t need an alchemist in a flag patrol, you need a healer. Lexington is going to be a liability. Read her performance reviews for gods’ sake. She is a walking disaster. I?—”

All hints of civility disappear from Kyrian's face. In one fluid motion, he whirls back to the table, grabs Collin by the collar, and slams his face down onto the hard wood table with a sickening crunch.

Chapter 4

Rowan

The mess hall falls deathly silent. Collin groans, blood trickling from his broken nose onto his lunch tray as he struggles to regain his balance. Ellie grabs my hand before I can rush over to help him, her fingers digging into my wrist.

“Dead rescuers help no one,” she warns quickly under her breath.

Kyrian leans in close to Collin, his tousled hair—which looked roguish a few moments ago now painting a savage edge. “First, the only walking disaster I see is the one whimpering in front of me right now,” Kyrian says, not bothering to keep his voice down. Or the menace behind it. "Second, Rowan is one of mine now. And you will treat her with all the respect due a cadet in my flag’s patrol. Am I understood?”

Collin wheezes out a choked affirmative, blood and spittle spraying from his injured face. The metallic scent fills my nostrils, making my stomach lurch.

“I didn’t hear you,” Kyrian's face remains impassive, glacial eyes boring into Collin's. “Am I understood?”

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