Page 24 of Trial of Three
Snap, snap, snap.The release of each crossbow sings through the air, each bolt in turn just missing Tye’s perfectly moving body. His bare torso and red hair reflect flashes of his fire, the light and shadow sculpting each perfect, lithe muscle into ethereal, deadly beauty.
A gong sounds through the practice arena just as five crossbows all fire at the same time. Tye spins through a final, gravity-defying sequence and lands directly in their path, a column of flames around him. I twist to see where the arrows hit and come up short.
“Good stars, that isn’t a shield,” the tall second-trial whispers. “He... he incinerated the arrows.”
“Of course he did,” someone else replies. “Haven’t you ever seen a flex tourney, Yalis? That trick’s a mandatory element for fire affinities.”
“Not at any tourney I’ve ever seen,” Yalis mutters. “They only do it at Realm Championship meets.”
Tye’s fire dies down, leaving the solitary sound of two hands applauding. “Quite the demonstration, Tye,” Klarissa calls musically as she strides across the sand, her golden dress streaming behind her. “Though most instructors prefer to wait until after the students have arrived.”
“It was a warm-up, not a demonstration.” Tye blinks, his brows rising in mild incredulity as he marks the gathered crowd. As if he’d truly not noticed eight male trainees, two elders, and one mortal until just now. Though shorter than River, Tye still stands above the other trainees, his carved muscles and latent power making some of them look like spindly teenagers. His emerald eyes are all too serious. Dusting a white, chalky powder from his hands, he grabs a gold-colored vest from the base of the horizontal bar and pulls it over his arms. The sleeveless piece hangs open down his chest, leaving his corded arms bare and the smooth skin of his abdomen rippling with each motion. The loose black pants hanging on his hips are the only echoes of the trainee uniform.
“Why is everyone here so early?” Tye’s rich voice rumbles through my core. Power, the kind I’ve not seen rolling off the male before, now burns up all the air in the arena. Judging by the other males’ lowered gazes, they sense it too.
“Because we are all eager overachievers,” I say, closing the short distance to Tye and poking him hard in the ribs, catching his emerald gaze. I little care what response Tye gives me—a smile, a curse, an insult—so long as I can glimpse my Tye again. Just to make sure he ismyTye. My voice drops. “And you scared the hell out of me, I’ll have you know.”
The male catches my wrist, his grip firm. Not painful, but hard enough to tell me he finds the jest unacceptable. “Fall in line with the others, lass,” he says, his eyes already on the nine of us making up the class. On Klarissa in the back, standing with her arms crossed.
I feel cold as I step back, the second-trial Yalis moving over to make room for me. As if I’m suddenly more aligned with him than with my own quint mate.
“Wait,” Blayne calls out again, this time stepping forward and taking in both Tye and the trainees with his gaze. “Are we actually here for flex instruction? For stars’ sake, someone tell mewhy.”
“Don’t look at me,” Tye says darkly, crossing his arms over his chest. “This wasn’t my notion.”
“You are here learning flex for two reasons, Blayne,” Klarissa says, strolling forward and smiling at the stout male, who has the good sense to blanch. “First, control of body guides control of magic, and flex represents the ultimate mastery of this connection. Second”—Klarissa reaches out and straightens Blayne’s collar, her long fingers moving gracefully—“you are here, Blayne, because I ordered you to be here. Fail to perform to your limit, and you can take a rest against the flogging post. Does that help?”
“Yes, Elder. Thank you, ma’am.” The apple of Blayne’s throat bobs as he swallows.
Klarissa’s eyes flow from him to me to Tye, silently making sure we all received the message.
Cold fear clutches my chest and Tye’s jaw tightens, his green eyes flashing for a split moment of raw fury before a cool mask snaps into place.
“By demanding simultaneous mastery of both physical and magical power,” Elidyr says, walking up to stand beside Tye, “flex allows for feats that would be impossible to achieve using muscle or magic alone.” The elder wears black pants and a vest cut in a similar style to Tye’s, though his is a shimmering silver fabric instead of gold. His usual long brown braid hangs down his back, the calluses in his wide palms belying his passion for horses. “They are all yours, sir,” Elidyr says to Tye, bowing with a mix of respect and suspicious familiarity.
As if the two know each other well. Or did.
Tye nods and straightens his back. “Today we’ll be working toward a core exercise in the flex program for fire.” His smooth, lilting voice fills the air, sending a shiver down my spine. Replacing the crossbow stands with two targets twenty paces apart, Tye stands directly between them, beneath the horizontal bar. “Elder Elidyr, if you could assist?”
Elidyr, whose magic seems to have an air affinity, snaps his fingers. The targets begin to turn to the rhythm of his snaps, facing Tye then swiveling away a heartbeat later.
Without hesitating, Tye flicks his hands and two small spheres of fire whoosh from him in opposite directions, each striking its target’s center.
“This is what we’re working toward?” Blayne says, just loudly enough to make ignoring him impossible. “A most effective use of time, to be sure.”
Tye turns to the squat male, studying him silently before sighing and stepping out from beneath the horizontal bar. “The sooner you pass this exercise, the sooner we can be rid of each other.” He motions for Blayne to take his place between the targets. “All you must do is strike both targets, the right and left, simultaneously. The targets are turning in unison, so releasing your spheres at precisely the same time will be the only way to accomplish this goal.”
“What’s the catch?” Blayne asks, frowning suspiciously.
“The time limit.” Before Blayne can ask what Tye means, a neat wall of fire flares to life in front of Tye and moves steadily toward the trainee. All the while, Elidyr’s snaps turn the targets in a steady rhythm, facing Blayne then blading away.
Face. Blade. Face. Blade.
I hold my breath.
On the third swivel, Blayne confidently presses outward with his palms, great flaming spheres shooting from his hands... and hitting the wall. He curses. Glances at Tye’s approaching flames. Watches the targets.
Face. Blade. Face. Blade.
