Page 30 of Obsession

Volten was counting on me to get help, and the Taori I hoped could save our friends was at the end of the corridor. As my feet pounded on the stone and my arms pumped by my sides, I tried not to think about what might be happening back in the holochamber. Then I told myself that if anyone could stay safe and keep Britta out of danger, it was Kann.

After all, he was a Drexian and a Blade. He was made for things like this.

Then I remembered him telling me that he was hoping that his simulation would recreate the academy like it had been hundreds of years earlier when dungeons had been in frequent use and cadets washed out of the school by dying.

“Grek, Kann.” I muttered to myself, as I ran past a pair of Iron cadets who stared at me, open-mouthed, and I skidded to a stop in front of the last classroom door. “What have you done?”

Chapter

Nineteen

Kann

Iheld her against me, barely breathing as the footsteps grew closer, trying to ignore how perfectly she fit in my arms. The sounds of the leaves crackling under boots, of salty wind whipping through trees, of dark voices rumbling—it all seemed to go quiet as my own heart thudded in time with hers.

Calm breath, I told myself as I tried to remember my training. Breathe in for four, hold for four, breath out for four, hold for four, breathe in…

But it was hard to steady my breath when I held Britta and could feel even her slightest movement—her tensing arms, her stiffened spine, the shiver that went through her as a cold blast of air hit us.

The crunch of leaves grew louder, and I tightened my grip, hoping we wouldn't be discovered. Was this a group of hunters or cadets also trying to hide? Neither one was good, considering I was with a female who had no business being on the grounds of the ancient academy.

A shudder passed through me as I realized I had no weapons and no way to defend Britta against whatever was out there. But I was a Blade. I had been trained to use my body as a weapon. I would just have to hope the simulation wasn’t so real that the NPCs—as Britta liked to call them—were skilled fighters.

I braced myself to push Britta to the ground and leap into action, but then the footsteps stilled.

“I thought I heard voices here,” one of the mystery Drexians said, his tone gruff.

"Probably some first-years who can't keep from talking during the hunt.”

A grunt of agreement. “Assassins.”

“They do like to talk about their strategies to escape capture, which makes it easier to catch them.”

Rough laughter came from multiple males.

"Might have been animals moving through the brush. Cadets would have run by now.”

"True enough." There was a pause, followed by the sound of branches being pushed aside. "Should we check the pit traps? Those are usually good for catching a first-year or two.”

I bit back the urge to groan. I had almost forgotten about the pit traps.

The footsteps resumed, but they were moving in the opposite direction. Even so, I waited until I could not hear them at all, in case one of the group had remained to draw out hiding cadets. When I was certain they were truly gone, I relaxed my grip on Britta.

She whirled on me. “Pit traps?”

I nodded, not meeting her gaze. “The Silent Hunt was filled with traps and snares. I had almost forgotten about them, but I did include them in the design.”

Britta folded her arms across her chest. “I didn’t work on any traps or snares, but I wasn’t the one doing most of the work.”She blew out a breath. “If you put them in the design, we have to assume they’re in here. Zav is very thorough.”

Hearing Zav’s name sent a pulse of irrational frustration through me. “Of course, he is.”

She shifted her gaze to me, annoyance flickering across her face. “What does that mean?”

I made a harsh sound in the back of my throat. “Nothing.”

“You aren’t blaming him for the mess we’re in, are you?” She threw one arm wide. “Or maybe you think this is my fault?”

I made a motion with my hands for her to keep her voice low, forgetting for a moment the sign she’d taught me for quiet. “I never said it was anyone’s fault.”

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