Page 58 of Children of Anguish and Anarchy

In one square, the young warriors wield throwing knives made from black glass. They stand in a row across from a line of targets. When anoverseeing Lâmina gives a call, they release. Each weapon lands with precision, hitting the exact mark.

In another square, a member of the Lâminas inspects the different trainees. A thick scar runs through the right side of the warrior’s head. Unlike the young boys, his bare chest is covered with weapons. I take in the inked swords crossed over his abdomen.

When one of the young warriors fails to land an attack, the Lâmina steps in. He grabs the trainee at the knees, showing him how to throw an enemy onto his back.

In the central court, a Lâmina and a trainee face off. The Lâmina sports a boomerang around his neck and heavy clubs on his muscular arms. A circle of boys gathers as the Lâmina’s fingers glow green. Bones crack as he pulls one of the clubs free.

He winds up the ivory weapon to strike. Though weaponless, the trainee dives forward, giving everything he has to the fight. The way their trainees battle, I don’t know who to fear more—them, or the Skulls.

Behind the training squares, the warriors’ barracks stand. Crafted from hardened vines, each woven structure rises almost fifteen levels high. Winding ladders run from the bottom floors all the way to the top. I have no choice but to follow Köa as he climbs.

When we reach the third floor, two dozen men rise from their cots. Most are double my age; all but one are twice my size. The warriors protest at my presence, and Köa shouts back in their tongue.

My pulse spikes when the path to the ladders is blocked off. The warriors’ startling green eyes dig into me like knives. It’s like being trapped in another cage.

I need to get out of here.

I stiffen as the men close in like dogs. I feel naked among them. But as they corner me against the back wall, I don’t back down.

I don’t allow the warriors to see the sweat that gathers at my brow.

Each of the Lâminas sports an armory on his skin: uniquely shaped swords, bone whips, throwing knives. My fingers itch for the hilt of my axe.

Without it, I don’t stand a chance.

“My axe,” I say.

Köa blinks at me. The breeze from the window blows in our silence. I point to the blade on his arm and make a swinging motion.

“My axe. I want it back.”

Köa cracks his neck. He nods to one of his men. The warrior disappears to another room. After a moment he returns with the only weapon I have. They’ve wrapped the hilt in an animal skin to keep it from burning their hands.

The warrior gives the axe to Köa, and I reach for it, but Köa holds it out of my grasp. His taunt brings me back to being a child, all alone on the agbön court. I was a lowly fisherman’s son against the sons of Orïsha’s guard. They said I’d lose every match.

“Give it to me,” I growl.

My eyes widen when Köa speaks my tongue in a broken cadence.

“Or—what?” He arches his brow. “What—are you—going to do?”

With a hard shove, he throws me back. I tumble out of the window of the barracks. Air rushes past me as I fall. Shouts ring as I land on the hard rock.

Pain shoots through every part of my being. Sharp spasms travel up my spine. Köa practically glides down the vines, cornering me as I writhe.

“You want—your axe?” Köa dangles the weapon over my head. Unlike the other warriors, his hand doesn’t burn in contact with the metal. All around us the Lâminas gather.

“Take it.”

My jaw sets as Köa hands the axe to one of his men. The monster thatawoke in the Skulls’ cage rises in my abdomen. I think of all I’ve had to endure. What it took to make it to these foreign shores.

With a grunt, I rise to my feet. I don’t care about all the eyes on me. I shake through the pain and attack, launching myself at Köa’s hips.

In the span of a breath, Köa beats me to the ground. He slides, hooking his knee between my legs. With a twist, the world spins. My head smacks against the hard stone.

The other men laugh at my fall. They cheer Köa on in their tongue. Their leader stares at me like I am an ant.

Like I’m not worth the rock I lie on.

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