Page 45 of Vicious Princess
Oh, I hope it’s nothing about Daegel sleeping with one of his cadets.
My heart sinks in my chest.
So far, I’ve been lucky. Daegel doesn’t look interested in turning me in, which means that he would probably get in trouble if the administration found out about our little adventure. And thanks to his cold and ruthless behavior towards me, nobody can suspect it. At least, I hope nobody does.
Right as the last trainee enters the lecture hall, our instructor arrives, too. A scarred man with beige skin and a long braid that reaches all the way to his hips. When his gaze sweeps over us, a chill goes down my spine.
He’s got haunted eyes.
“Good morning, cadets. I’m Ezkai Captain Gavriel Lasso, the Scrivener Unit,” he says. His voice is rough like gravel. “I’ll be your history and politics instructor. Before you assume that my discipline matters less than physical training or emotional manipulation, let me assure you that it does not. You fail my training, you don’t get to graduate. So I hope all of you know how to read and have at least two brain cells to help you comprehend everything.”
“He’s a real ray of sunshine,” Roman whispers.
I snort a laugh. When the instructor’s gaze snaps to me, I pretend to cough. Which makes Roman snort a laugh, too. Then we’re both coughing.
“Because we’re having so much fun in my lecture already, why don’t we make things even more fun with a test to determine your current knowledge levels?” Everyone in the auditorium whines. Ezkai Gavriel picks up a stack of papers and drops it on the desk in front of a cadet. “Share these with your fellow cadets. You have two hours.”
I know I’ll fail this test the moment the paper lands in front of me. Not only is everything in an advanced Ekiosh that I’m not very fluent in but it includes complex Ekios history-and politics-related questions which I know nothing about.
A splitting headache forms in my right temple by the time I get to the third question. I steal a glance at Roman at my side. He’s scribbling away on his paper, hunched over the desk.
Pretty damn enthusiastic for someone who claims to hate history.
I return to my paper. For a minute, I just stare at the next question, tapping my pencil against the wood.
Tap, tap, tap.
The way I see it, I have two paths ahead of me—answer the questions pretending like I know what I’m talking about. Or leave it all blank. Both options mean I’m fucked. But one will make me look like someone who doesn’t give a fuck, while the other option will make me look like a lost cause.
Judging from how much Ezkai Gavriel tried to establish that his lecture matters as much as others, my guess is that the second option will put me in a less problematic relationship with him.
With a sigh, I put my pencil to the paper and get to writing.
Surprisingly, spinning bullshit makes time fly.
“Time’s up,” Ezkai Gavriel says.
I lift my head and toss the pencil down. He stands from his desk and collects the papers.
“I’ll evaluate these by your next lecture. Once I know what atrocities I’m dealing with here, I’ll have a lecture plan prepared that will hopefully turn you into at least half-decent strategists and thinkers.” He leans his hip against the desk and crosses his arms. “Until then, the best way to understand the inner workings of the Order, and how all we do intertwines with the work of our General and House Dzuni, is to see it all unfold in real life.”
I perk up in my chair, and I’m not the only one. Chatter rises in the auditorium.
“Silence,” Ezkai Gavriel says, raising his palm in the air. “If you want an opportunity like that, you better know how to behave. I won’t have you humiliate yourself and this academy in front of our General, his government, and noble society.”
The auditorium is so silent you could drop a needle and hear it cling on the stone floors.
“Tomorrow, the Ezkai General is hosting a political soiree at the castle, as part of his negotiations with Wetra and Emera on the new trade deal,” Ezkai Gavriel says. My heart races in my chest. “You’ll attend the soiree so you can see how much understanding and respecting history, having knowledge of politics, and possessing the ability to use the strategic part of your brain matters if you’re to become one of the Ezkai.”
Ezkai Gavriel rises to his feet and turns his back on us, tidying the documents on his desk. “Wear your training leathers, clean and sharp. You are dismissed.”
As I collect my notebooks and rise from my seat, my skin buzzes with anticipation. This is the moment I’ve been dreaming about, to be part of the ancient order of powerful soldiers.
Even if it’s only part of the training.
Even if it’s only for a night.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
