2. Rowan

Chapter 2

Rowan

" Y ou alright, Ro?" Collin gives my hand a quick squeeze as Spire East’s third year cadets assemble on the main courtyard for first formation, the two seas of red and black uniforms touching in the middle. Once squads are assigned, enchanters and combat cadets will be mixed, but for now neither side is going out of their way to meet the other after two years of training apart. Collin gives the black uniforms of combat cadets a quick envious glance, then returns his attention to me. “You look pale.”

“I’m fine.” I pull my red enchanter jacket down to get rid of non-existent wrinkles and lift my head, lest the others smell blood in the water. Really though, my stomach is rolling with my mother’s warning about Grayson. For all the good that worrying is going to do me.

“You don’t look fine.” The lift in Collin’s brows says that sees right through my horseshit. Which is fair, since we’ve known each other for years, owing to our families’ standings. More importantly, he’s helped me through more dizzy spells and migraines than I can count. I still don’t understand why a man as popular and a perfectionist like Collin would care about someone as damaged as me, but he does. Enough to court me. To have pushed us from friends to lovers.

My getting together with Collin is the only thing I’ve done in the past two years that my mother actually approves of.

“I’m not ill,” I reassure him, returning the squeeze. “Just nervous. Fusion year is supposed to be brutal. Like people getting hurt and killed brutal.” And that’s without the commandant telling the incoming commander to fix your deficiencies.

Collin steps closer, his fingers brushing along my chin possessively. "Why did the commandant call you in?”

I look away, my gaze trailing over the stone arches and spires surrounding the courtyard, the academy's banners snapping in the brisk wind. Trust Collin to notice everything, even with a hundred other things vying for his attention this morning.

“Tell me,” Collin orders.

“They are putting Grayson in charge of our fusion year,” I say under my breath, pulling away as my mother ascends the dais. Her powerful voice carries over the parade grounds, bringing the hundred and twenty of us to order. My gaze skids over the black uniforms on the other side of the field, as if I could read their name ribbons from here to figure out who he might be. “And I think my mother ordered him to fix me.”

Collin’s eyes widen. “Shit,” he says under his breath while my mother launches into a speech we've heard in one way or another a hundred times by now. Eryndor is special because we have powerful magic running in our bloodlines and auric alloy that levels the playing field with the immortal fae. They hate us for it. They want to wipe us off the continent. They want humans to remain powerless. Eryndor is the front line of defense, not just for ourselves, but for all humankind. And so on. Collin curses and drums his hand on his thigh, a tell of his nerves. “That’s… not good. Grayson in charge of the fusion year is not good for any of us.”

“You know him?”

“I know of him,” Collin says. “And I have it on good authority that he gives zer o fucks about anyone but his friends. All the effort I’ve put in, the work, the high marks, they are going to count for nothing with him in charge.”

“Horseshit,” I assure him.

“You know what I heard Grayson said about enchanters? That we are like potted plants, useful to have on hand when needed but a pain in the ass to keep alive and haul about otherwise.”

“The queen is an enchanter.”

“Do I look like I’m the queen?” Collin snaps.

I hold my hand out placatingly. “I know combat always snubs its nose at enchanters, but you are different. A healer with top marks in combat training? You are every commander's dream. The squad leaders are going to be fighting over you no matter what. If Grayson has anything but muscles going for him, he’ll mark you for the asset you are.”

Collin gives me a tight, appreciative smile. It’s harder for enchanters to get promoted and I know Collin was disappointed to not make the combat track—but I’m telling him the truth. The fusion year, when the tracks merge, is all about real field training. Within a few months, we’ll be going beyond the wards—and then everyone will want a healer around.

Unlike me. I’m going to be an utter liability all year long.

“You really think all my work will count for something?” he asks, giving me those large puppy dog eyes that he knows I can’t resist. Even if I know he’s fishing for compliments.

“Absolutely. Grayson is irrelevant—your ratings speak for themselves. I completely expect to see you at the top of the merit list at the end of the year.” That means promotion, choice assignments, privileges that everyone covets but only the few favored get.

"You are important too, Ro," Collin says quickly. "I mean with your alchemy. Without you, we've no chance against the fae and draken."

"Without the auric alloy I make, you mean.” Alchemical magic might be vital for Eryndor’s survival, but the container said magic comes in—me—is anything but a source of pride to, well, anyone. I shift my wei ght to take the pressure off my aching hip. I didn’t injure it—it just aches. Like my joints do from time to time. Because… there is no because. It's just the way it is. “Grayson is going to make my life hell.”

“You don’t actually know that the commandant told him to do that.”

“From what we know of him, does he need to be told?”

Collin gives me a sympathetic look. "It’s just one more year, Ro. One final hurdle. Everyone knows that the minute you get your rank, you’ll be pulled right back to an alchemy workshop at a Spire."

"Because no one wants me at the front."

"You don't want you in the front,” he counters. "What does it matter if other people agree? Plus, you want us stationed together after graduation, don’t you?”

I nod. Collin is right. Even if I was a contender for the top of the merit list—which I'm not—the only way for us to be stationed together is for one person to follow the other’s lead. Collin has always wanted to rise through the ranks and make a name for himself. I've always wanted everyone to forget mine. If we graduate and get married like he wants us to, I would be stationed close to him—most likely at the nearest large outpost or Spire. Anywhere I can set up a workshop, make alloy, and not get myself killed.

There is a shift up front and curt applause from the formation as one of the instructors steps forward to talk about the meticulous process leadership went through to select this year’s cadet commander. Which is utter fiction. The commander of the fusion year is always a top combat track cadet, who’d spent the previous two years beating out the competition for the chance to make other people's lives miserable.

“Why do we choose a commander based on who can throw the best punch or crank out the most push-ups?” I murmur to Collin. "I mean, does that not seem like a stupid leadership quality to anyone else?”

He starts to laugh but gets control of his face in time for the instructor to give the order I’ve been dreading .

“Cadet Commander Kai Grayson, you are hereby ordered to present yourself and assume command of the forty seventh cohort of Spire East Command.”

There is a momentary pause as a man detaches himself from the sea of black uniforms and strides to the front of the formation with a predator’s prowl that spurs my heart into a gallop. As he passes between the rows of cadets, they straighten instinctively and seem to somehow move out of his way, though no one breaks formation. Then he ascends the dais, and I get my first clear look at Kai Grayson.

Grayson looks like he was bred for war, all lean muscle and coiled power. Dirty blond hair, long enough that he has it tied back with a leather thong, frames the defined lines of his jaw and intense blue eyes that hold all the warmth of glacial ice. The brace of throwing knives he has strapped to one thigh is a perfect match to the friendly demeanor of his. I don't doubt he has more blades hidden about him too—with that aura of leashed violence that clings to him, he must.

Grayson surveys the assembled cadets, the movement stretching his uniform taut across his chest and shoulders. I try not to stare, try to blend into the anonymity of the formation. Maybe Collin is right and the commandant said nothing to Grayson about me at all. Maybe he won’t give a rat’s ass for anyone in enchanter red, much less an awkward alchemist who stays out of his way. Grayson is the most dangerously attractive man I have ever seen. He’ll have better things to occupy him than bother with the likes of me.

I’ve just about convinced myself of all that, when Grayson’s gaze lands right on my face and lingers there, a flash of recognition and then evaluation.

Shit.

As I watch, Grayson reaches up to briefly brush a small pendant hanging from his neck, his thumb pressing a dark ring with an iridescent core. Shadows spread outward from around him, flaring for a moment before he pulls them back. Great. Grayson isn’t just a honed warrior, he has umbromancy in his blood too. Just… perfect.

And he is still staring at me, as if trying to commit my every flaw to memory. O r maybe he just wants a good before image, to compare to the after he thinks he can forge.

As quickly as it had found me, Grayson’s attention moves on, his hands locking behind his back as he faces the instructors, his eyes once more cold and remote. And yet I can still feel the intensity of his gaze boring into me—and it makes heat flood every cell of my body.