Page 85 of The Knights of Gaia

Asher spoke through a full mouth, which meant we all got front row seats to the half-chewed sea of mush in there. I hoped he learned better manners before they made him a Knight.

Bronte glanced at his plate. “That’s apple pie,” she told him. “And you’re meant to save it for dessert.”

“Are you kidding? I’ve been waiting my whole life for dessert!” Asher grabbed the pan and a spoon—and scooped the rest of the pie onto his plate, not caring how messy it looked. “And I’m not waiting a second longer.”

“I’ll drink to that!” Dutch said, decidedly relaxed, holding up his mug of hot chocolate.

The two boys clinked cups, then continued their assault on the feast.

“This certainly is a lot of food. I can’t decide what to try next.” Kylie’s eyes panned up and down the table.

“This.” Bronte passed her a flat plate. “Trust me.”

Kylie cut off a corner of pizza. “Mmm. Yes. This.” She grabbed the whole plate.

“Is this is what it’s like to be a Knight?” I asked Eris.

Our mentor looked up from her sensible green salad. “No, this is a special feast to celebrate the completion of your first two Quests.”

And afterwards, we Apprentices had to go back to Killfield. I guess it was the General’s way of reminding us that we weren’t Knights yet—and that we’d only become them with his blessing.

“The life of a Knight is about moderation.” Eris frowned at Asher and Dutch, who were piling even more desserts onto their already-overflowing plates. “It’s about self-control. And following the rules.”

“And who makes these rules?” I asked, though I was pretty sure I knew the answer.

“The General.”

Yep. Just as I’d thought.

“Is that why some Knights became Rebels?” I asked. “Because they didn’t want to follow the General’s rules?”

“The Rebels are…complicated.” She skewered a cucumber with her fork.

“You don’t hate the Rebels, do you?”

“No. In fact, some of them were my friends.”

“But not anymore?”

“I’m not allowed to be their friend,” Eris sighed. “Like I said, being a Knight comes with a lot of rules that we must follow. We can’t do everything we want to. And we shouldn’t either.” She poked a lettuce leaf with her fork. “The Rebels don’t subscribe to that philosophy. And that makes them dangerous.”

Eris didn’t say anything more. She stood up, grabbed her salad, and walked over to one of the other mentors. The Knight in blue, the Dreamweaver.

“Miss Winters.”

I looked up at the pair of soldiers who’d parked themselves beside our table. They were dressed in the Watchers’ distinctive black armor. That meant they were the General’s men.

“Come with us. The General wants to speak with you.”

A few eavesdropping Apprentices made dramatic noises. Forcing a smile, I followed the Watchers out of the dining hall. They smelled like soap and metal—and not a bit like magic.

At the top of a twisted staircase inside a twisted tower was the General’s office. To call the room ‘sparsely decorated’ would have been a massive understatement. The place was cold, barren, and unwelcoming. There were no pictures or decorations on the ugly, unpainted concrete walls, and the only window in the room was barricaded behind iron bars. What was the General afraid of? His office was at the top of the tower, deep inside the Castle grounds.

“Sit down, Miss Winters,” he barked as soon as I entered the room, just as unpleasant as ever.

I took a seat opposite his desk, but he remained standing. Probably so he could look down on me. I tried to calm my frayed nerves by counting to ten in my head as I watched the unnatural fluorescent lighting bounce off the General’s broad forehead.

“The 4thof January. 17:36,” the General rattled off like an old typewriter as one of his soldiers wrote in a notebook. “Inquisition begins.”

---