Chapter 116 — Rivers

Chapter 116: Chapter 116 — Rivers

~ Raven ~

"—and it isn’t only forms. That’s the part everyone gets wrong. Marek had us drilling the same eight transitions for a year before he let me spar anyone outside the House. I hated him for it, and then the first time I fought somebody who’d learned in a yard instead of a proper training court, I understood exactly why."

"Mm," Raven said.

Brielle looked at her.

"You’re not listening."

"I am."

"You’re doing that thing where you stop listening and wait for me to stop talking."

"There hasn’t been an opportunity."

Tessa snorted.

Brielle ignored both of them and kept going, which was the whole of Brielle. She had been talking since they left Hale Wing, faster than usual, one hand repeatedly adjusting the strap of her kit bag as though she had forgotten how she wanted it to sit.

Tessa seemed less openly excited, but she had already pushed her sleeves above her elbows and tied her hair back before they reached the drill yard.

Thalia had barely said anything since the bridge.

Raven noticed because silence suited Tessa. On Thalia, it felt wrong.

She glanced sideways.

"You alright?"

"Fine."

Thalia kept walking.

Raven watched her for another second, but there was nothing in her face that invited another question, so she let it go.

For now.

~~~~

The combat courts were already crowded when they passed beneath the arch.

Raven had made it perhaps ten paces inside before realizing the morning was going to be considerably worse than she had hoped.

People were looking at her.

That part was not new.

People had been staring since the Hunt, and the attention had only worsened after her Court Standing changed in front of the entire academy.

What was different was the way they were doing it now.

A boy beside the weapons rack looked at Raven, leaned toward his friend and said something under his breath. Both of them looked back together, and neither bothered pretending otherwise when Raven caught them.

Somewhere behind Raven, somebody said, "Seventh Seat," and another voice answered with a laugh.

Raven slowed slightly.

Ah.

They wanted to fight her.

Not all of them for the same reason.

Some were curious about the girl half the academy had watched during the Hunt. Others had clearly decided the Court had pushed Raven too high too quickly and wanted the satisfaction of proving it.

And a few had simply done the calculation everyone at Valerius eventually seemed to make.

If they beat Raven Rivers in front of enough witnesses, somebody would care.

Apparently that was what importance bought her.

A target.

Raven put her bag down beside the others and deliberately ignored every person still looking.

For one hour, she would have liked to be completely uninteresting.

Valerius had apparently decided against it.

~~~~

The instructor did not begin by pairing anyone.

Instead, he walked into the center of the court, waited until the remaining conversations died down and looked over the students gathered around him.

"Most of you arrived here already trained."

Nobody reacted.

He continued.

"Private tutors. House drill masters. Sparring partners chosen for your age, size and level. You learned on even ground, under rules you understood before the first movement, with somebody standing close enough to stop the fight before anything went badly wrong."

Raven finished tightening the wrap around one wrist.

"None of that existed inside the Founders’ Ward."

That got their attention.

"The people who entered that Hunt did not care what forms you had been taught or how cleanly you performed them. The corrupted wolves certainly didn’t."

His gaze moved slowly across the court.

"A normal opponent feels pain and adjusts. A corrupted wolf can take damage that should force something else back and keep coming anyway. If the only reason your technique works is because your opponent reacts the way your instructor taught you they should, then the moment they don’t, your technique falls apart with you."

The court had gone completely quiet.

"And outside Valerius, nobody is going to arrange every fight so the person trying to kill you happens to be close to your own level."

He glanced toward the banners recently hung along the far end of the grounds.

"Which brings us to the Concord."

A few students shifted.

"We are at peace with the vampire Houses. Nobody here is being trained to attack the people coming through these gates next month."

He paused long enough for that to settle.

"But peace does not mean you will never encounter a hostile vampire in your life. And if that happens, assuming they will move, recover and fight exactly like a wolf is the sort of mistake you may only get to make once."

Raven saw several older students exchange looks.

"A faster opponent does not slow down because you performed every drill perfectly when you were twelve."

The instructor turned back toward them.

"What you were taught matters. What matters more is whether you can still use it when the fight stops resembling the one you practised."

He gestured toward the side of the court.

"That is what we are testing today."

A row of upper-years pushed away from the wall and stood beside him.

"Pressure partners. Mostly fourth-years, with a few thirds. They are restricted from using House abilities in any way that would end the exercise before it begins, and none of them are going to deliberately injure you."

He looked toward the upper-years.

"They are also under no obligation to make any of you look competent."

A few students laughed.

It was not an especially confident sound.

"You are not expected to beat them."

His eyes returned to the younger students.

"In most cases, you won’t."

That killed the laughter.

"I want to know three things. Can you keep thinking when somebody better than you is controlling the fight? Can you get yourself out of a position you should not have allowed yourself into? And can you create one genuine opportunity to counter or disengage?"

He held up one finger.

"One."

The instructor lowered his hand.

"Do that, and I have something to work with."

The interest aimed at Raven increased almost immediately.

She could feel it without turning.

One of the upper-year girls along the wall, broad-shouldered with closely cropped hair, was studying Raven openly now. A first-year nearby murmured something about Seventh Seat to the boy beside him.

Raven stared ahead.

Just one hour.

That was all she wanted.

Beside her, Thalia had become even quieter.

Raven glanced over.

Thalia had folded her arms tightly across her stomach and was watching the upper-years with an expression Raven could not quite read.

The instructor began introducing the upper-years one by one.

"Lucan Ferrow. Adrian Ashcombe. Mira Dalen. Sabine Kestrel."

Then the next name came.

"Grace Wren."

Raven’s head turned immediately.

Wren.

She looked at Thalia.

Thalia had mentioned before that she had an older cousin at Valerius. Raven had never asked for the girl’s name, and until now there had been no reason to.

A small smile was already pulling at Raven’s mouth.

"Thalia, that’s your—"

Thalia squeaked.

Raven stopped.

Tessa turned toward her. Brielle did the same with a raised eyebrow.

Whatever Raven had expected to see on Thalia’s face, it was not this.

She was staring at the upper-year Wren as though she wished the instructor had never said the name at all.

Raven followed her gaze.

Grace Wren was tall, with a dark braid over one shoulder and third-year trim along her uniform. She had already seen them.

More specifically, she had seen Thalia.

Their eyes met for perhaps a second.

Then Grace looked away.

There was no surprise in it. No hesitation. She simply turned toward the student beside her and continued listening as though she had looked across the court and found nobody she recognized.

Raven’s smile disappeared.

She looked back at Thalia.

"Thalia?"

"Don’t."

Her voice was so quiet Raven almost missed it.

Thalia kept her eyes lowered.

"Please don’t go over there. Any of you."

Brielle opened her mouth.

Tessa touched two fingers to her wrist before she could speak.

Brielle stopped.

Raven wanted to ask what had happened.

The question was already forming when the instructor spoke again.

"One more."

Something about his tone made the entire court pay attention.

"We have another volunteer today. He was not part of the assisting roster."

The instructor turned toward the arch.

"Prymont."

Every head in the yard followed.

The noise rose for a moment before sinking into something lower and far more interested.

Upper-years assisting younger students was ordinary enough.

A Cardinal joining them was not.

Dante walked along the edge of the court and stopped beside the instructor.

Raven looked at him.

Something was wrong.

She knew it immediately.

Dante was not smiling.

Raven had known him for long enough that his amusement had become almost irritatingly familiar. He entered rooms like they already belonged to him and usually looked as though whatever was happening inside them had been arranged for his entertainment.

None of that was there today.

He stood beside the instructor with his shoulders relaxed, but there was nothing casual about his expression. For once, Dante looked completely serious.

Then his gaze shifted across the court and settled on Raven.

He did not raise an eyebrow or tilt his head. There was no smug little smile waiting for her to react, none of the amusement that usually appeared whenever he caught her looking at him.

He simply watched her.

Somehow, the absence of everything familiar unsettled her more than any of it would have.

Raven held his gaze for a moment before looking away.

Whatever his problem was today, she would greatly prefer it remained his problem.

The instructor continued.

"The assisting students will select their first partner. I will approve the pairing and set restrictions where necessary."

Of course they got to choose.

Raven resisted the urge to close her eyes.

She could almost predict what was going to happen next.

The first upper-year selected a second-year near the far wall.

The instructor approved it and sent them toward one of the northern squares.

Ferrow chose next.

Then Mira Dalen.

The broad girl with the cropped hair made her selection without choosing Raven, which produced considerably more relief than Raven wanted to admit.

Students began breaking away toward their assigned sections.

Through all of it, Thalia stayed beside them.

Quiet.

Raven caught her looking once toward the line of upper-years.

Just once.

Grace Wren was speaking with Ferrow and did not look back.

Then the instructor said,

"Prymont."

Something in Raven tightened before she even turned.

"Your choice."

Dante did not scan the students or spare a glance for the second-years waiting nearby and the first-years standing straighter in front of him.

He did not appear to consider anyone at all.

He was already looking at Raven.

The full weight of that attention settled on her so suddenly that her breath caught before she could stop it.

For the first time since entering the court, Dante spoke.

"Rivers."