Page 41 of Unbound

I make sure my braid is tight and my training weapon is strapped to my belt before I get up to leave.

If I rule out the ever-present possibility of death, then weapons training has already become my favorite part of the day. I’m neither the strongest, biggest, or even the fastest of students here. Fighting unarmed puts all those deficiencies on full display. Without a weapon, I’m hopeless.

My only talent there is an ability to endure pain and punishment, meaning I tend to tap out and yield much later than other students. But I’ve taken to the rapier right away.

Sure, I still take blunted weapons to the face, arms, and stomach more times than I'd like, but it's all in the name of training. And so far, I’ve been able to avoid getting matched against any of Malakai’s people.

But today is open for challenge matches, which means the danger level is amplified. A lot.

We reach the eastern training room just as Instructor Blackstone is pairing students for sparring. As usual, the training room smells like sweat with the faint scent of copper—no doubt from recently cleaned blood.

Blackstone's eyes sweep over us, narrowing when they land on me.

"Thorne. You've been challenged by Davrin today."

I freeze, my blood turning to ice. My heart slams against my ribs so hard I swear I can hear the echo.

Davrin. One of Malakai's soldiers. Built like a mountain with eyes as dead as a shark's.

Our instructors are careful not to show anything resembling mercy most of the time, but I think I sense a flicker of something from Blackstone. Maybe it's the knowledge that Davrin is almost certainly planning to use this challenge match to kill me.

I look at Mireen, Ambrose, and Beck. All of them have gone shades of white. But then Blackstone continues pairing up the challenge matches, revealing that we've all been challenged by Malakai's people today.

Shit, shit, shit.

We share a wide-eyed panicked look, and then we're ushered into our training rings. Each of us faces death, and I already know my heart will break if any one of us doesn't make it.

This isn't random. Malakai's been watching me since yesterday's hallway confrontation. This is his answer—a not-so-subtle attempt to remove me from the equation. Worse, he's targeting my friends because of me, too. The guilt crushes down on my chest like a physical weight, making it hard to breathe.

This is exactly why I’ve stopped myself every time I’m tempted to confide in them about my unbound affinity. All my precautions and one moment of carelessness in class yesterday put our lives in danger.

Beneath the fear and worry, I feel something else. Something hot and prickly. Something like rage.

Fuck Malakai. Fuck the people who want to turn this place into more of a horror show than it has to be. Fuck them forwantingto kill. For targeting us because I had the nerve to speak up in class.

A cold calm settles over me. A strange confidence. A sense of determination that I will not let this be the day that anybody I care about dies. Not today.

Davrin collects his practice sword—a heavy, two-handed affair that could crush my skull with a single blow, blunted edge or not. His lips curve in a smile that doesn't touch his eyes as he takes his position across from me. I draw my practice rapier, feeling its familiar weight settle in my palm.

I scan my eyes around the large training room. Nobody is paying the waters any attention. The airs are sparring and dealing with challenge matches, too. The fires are fighting in organized pairs, with Raith's large form easily visible from this distance. The earths are fighting as well.

Nobody is coming to save you, Nessa. Nobody is going to save your friends.

And nobody is watching… the realization makes me smile, just slightly. No audience means that maybe—just maybe—there’s something I can do.

I only have moments, so I work quickly. I reach my senses into the room around me, searching for elemental essence the unbound book said I should find. I feel only traces, but I desperately urge them inward,pullthem inward by force. And it works.

It’s not the sudden rush of power I feel when touching other affinities, but it’s something. It’s a candle flame instead of an inferno, but it’s better than nothing.

I draw in as much as I can of each element, slowly building a reserve of magical energy in my core.

"Begin!" Blackstone calls, and Davrin charges, throwing himself into a deadly horizontal swing that will cleave me in half if I don’t move.

I dance to the side. The practice blade whistles past my ear, disturbing the air enough to ruffle my hair. I dart forward, landing a quick thrust against his shoulder before retreating out of range.

"Lucky," he growls.

Maybe it was. But if I'm going to survive this, I need more than luck.

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