Page 32 of Kingdom of Tomorrow
Most of the soldiers laughed with her. I tried not to choke on my tongue as I readied the digital reader I’d gotten from the archduke.
She continued. “The weapons you carry can mean the difference between life and death. While some work well in Ourland, others work better in Theirland.”
Another reason to pay attention to Archduke Heta’s lessons.
“We’ll be practicing with pyre-guns, netters, semiautomatics, daggers, swords, triwhips, pritis cannons, throwing stars, and spears.” She held up an example whenever she listed a new weapon. “If you ever get the chance, observe Archduke Heta with a spear. He’s a master.”
Each apparatus looked more dangerous and deadly than the last, and my stomach twisted.
“Your weapons are your best offense and first line of defense. And there will be many times you need to defend.” She paused to scan us, dead serious. “First principal of warfare with the maddened. They attack on only two occasions. When you’re ready, and when you’re not.”
Chapter Nine
Words spoken are planted in the garden of your heart to feed your life; choose wisely.
—The Book of Soal1.20.18.21
Can’t process . . .
Too many weapons, facts, safety features, and warnings jumbled together in my brain. Oh, the warnings. Do this, and you’ll fry your internal organs. Do that, and you’ll only have the strength to curl into the fetal position and sob. Forget this or that, and you’ll ravage such and such.
On the walk to lunch, I felt as if I were drowning in a sea of information. Most of my classmates were already in the commons, congregated in the cozy, oversize living room with clusters of couches, matching recliners, and a pair of coffee tables. The small section designated for dining showcased a wall of vending machines, offering snacks far better than the meal bars. There was no sign of yesterday’s circle of pain.
“Did you guys read this?” Juniper stood near the “sandwich” machine, pointing to a sign above the ID pad. “We’re charged three trills or a two-hour shift of labor.”
Whoa. Three trills was an exorbitant amount for a seven-course dinner, much less a small sandwich. And. Hmm. The amount oflabor wasn’t even close to being worth three trills. Why—oooh. A test. Everything was. I bet the moral of this one was, don’t choose today’s stomach over tomorrow’s future.
Smart. With my eye on the prize and only four trills in my account, with no new allotment due, the sandwiches weren’t even a temptation for me.
“Two hours of extra work is nothing when you’ll pay anything. I’m starved.” Jericho shoved his way over, pressed his palm against the pad, then pushed a few buttons. The machine spit out the promised sandwich.
“You’ll regret that,” Titus muttered.
“I have money. I regret nothing.” The second Jericho possessed the package, he tore into it, freeing the food and chomping a bite. His eyes closed as he chewed. After he swallowed, he released a moan, as if he’d never tasted anything sweeter, and held out the food to Titus. “You want a bite? Too bad.” He shoved what remained into his mouth and chewed too much at once, uncaring as crumbs tumbled out.
A few others rushed over to purchase a sandwich of their own. I admit, envy pricked me. Maybe I experienced a little temptation. But my determination didn’t waver. I had a competition to win. Pleased with my restraint, I nabbed a free meal bar and a cup of hy-water. The slightly bitter liquid provided the minerals and electrolytes the bar lacked.
Around me, conversations and laughter rose and ebbed. Roman sat at the center of it all, holding court. Lark perched at his side. A group of six stood off to the side, appearing as shell shocked as I felt. Like me, these soldiers hadn’t forgotten our day was only half over. Although, granted, I looked forward to our next class. Learning self-defense aided my mission.
In a corner alone, Titus finished off a meal bar. Out of everyone, he was the one I wished to get to know most. But as I approached him, he stiffened and stalked off.
Okay then. I tried not to let the obvious denunciation sting. Had I done something to offend him?
As I ate, I talked myself into and out of trying to converse with someone else. A desire to do as the HP suggested and get to know my teammates prevailed. Before I could select a second soldier, a sweating Mykal rushed into the commons. My relief at seeing her was short lived.
Spotting me, she hurried over, clasped my wrist and tugged me toward the door. “You’ve been summoned by His Lord High and Mighty. Don’t know why. Run to gym C as if your feet are on fire. Okay, bye!” She let go and shot off with the speed of a bullet.
Dread curdled in my stomach. I didn’t have to wonder what had sparked this. The HP had learned of my faux pas in Realms and Travel. I trudged to the gym, hoping against hope I’d bump into Shiloh, my sole source of comfort. Alas, he never appeared.
Worked into a lather but fighting to hide it, I entered the gym. My heart stuttered as soon as I spotted the high prince. He sat on a bench, facing a bank of lockers, his back to me. He’d changed into a tight T-shirt that hugged his broad shoulders and huge biceps. A pair of shorts revealed well-defined legs with a light dusting of hair.
He didn’t glance my way but called, “Lady Pink. Come here.”
The fact that he’d known of my arrival without turning ... Trying not to wilt, I marched over and stopped behind him. At least he hadn’t referred to me as “miss.”
He pointed to the space in front of him. I swallowed a groan and dragged my feet to the commanded spot, suddenly hemmed in by the cold metal lockers and the hot, frightening instructor.
He was in the process of wrapping tape around his knuckles. Beads of sweat dripped from his temples. “You ran out of the archduke’s class.” My great leader didn’t bother to meet my gaze, just continued to prepare for battle. “Convince me you had a good reason to do something so ill advised.”
