Resistance (Ilyon Chronicles Book 1) (8 page)

Kyrin gave him a grateful look and shrugged to release the tension. “As long as I’ve got you, I’m fine. Now, let’s finish up.”

With a final glare toward the bullies, Kaden turned back to work with Kyrin, who breathed out a sigh. How many similar situations had ended with Kaden in the infirmary nursing painful cuts and bruises? More than she could count on both hands twice, and each one she could recall in vivid detail.

Some time later, they rose, stretching their sore knees, and returned the buckets and brushes to the shed. Once inside the Hall, Kyrin went straight to Master Zocar’s office. She smoothed her still wet jerkin and knocked lightly on the huge mahogany door. At his permission to enter, she slipped inside and let the door close with an echoing click. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dim interior, made more so by the dark wood furnishings and drapery. It gave the space a feeling of gloom that a child would find menacing. Intentional, no doubt. It had certainly terrified her at first. But she smiled now at such memories because Kaden had always been right there with her, holding her hand and making her feel protected. Now, however, she could handle Master Zocar on her own.

“Please, sit,” he told her.

Kyrin took a seat in the hardback chair in front of his wide desk. At one time, she and Kaden had both fit sitting side by side in this chair. It still left her feeling small.

Elbows on the desktop, Master Zocar
steepled his fingers and peered at her through half-closed eyelids. It was an old habit of his used to intimidate, but the effect was lost on Kyrin. Realizing this, he moved his hands to the arms of his chair and said, “This is already the second time this month you’ve taken the blame for someone else.”

Kyrin said nothing. Of course, he would know exactly what she had done earlier. Little escaped him after all this time.

“Why would you do that?” he asked when she did not speak.

“I just wanted to make sure Meredith and Kaden got their lunch.”

One corner of Zocar’s mouth rose a fraction as if in triumph. “And not Elise?”

Kyrin shrugged.

“You know, anyone else would’ve been happy to blame her for being late.”

She considered her conversation with Kaden. No one else had their reputation—one exacerbated by almost everything they did. “It seemed like the best way to handle it.”

Master Zocar narrowed his eyes and tapped his fingers as if trying to find an answer to an impossible question. He never had understood her or her brother. While everyone else competed for their own interests and achievements, she and Kaden fought for each other and the weaker children at Tarvin Hall. It did nothing to help them reach their full potential, as Master Zocar continually pointed out, but she didn’t expect anyone to understand their reasons.

Finally, he gave up his scrutiny. “All right, you may go.”

“You don’t have any extra chores for me?”

“No. Now, go down to the kitchen and get something to hold you until supper. I won’t bother giving Kaden permission since I know he’ll end up down there anyway.”

Kyrin’s expression fell, her conscience bruised. “We don’t mean to undermine your authority, Master Zocar,” she said softly. At least, she didn’t. Kaden had far less respect for the authority at Tarvin Hall, though, on rare occasions, he did confess his contrition over this.

Zocar just waved off her apology. Though dictated by discipline, Kyrin had long suspected he had something of a soft spot for the two of them. Not that he’d ever admit such a thing.

“Go on now.”

Kyrin rose and stepped to the door.
Hand on the cold, ornate knob, she glanced back. “Thank you.”

Zocar nodded, and Kyrin let herself out. In the hall, she pulled the door closed and turned to face Kaden, who stood against the wall waiting for her. A look of defiance already lurked in his eyes.

“So what are we doing next?”

“What if the chores are only for me?”

“I’m still helping.”

She shook her head and moved past her brother. “You have to stop doing that.”

“What?”

“Defying Master Zocar.” She looked over her shoulder and caught that familiar look of stubbornness, but deep down he surely agreed with her. Before he could attempt any weak argument, she said, “Come on, he told me we could get something to eat.”

Kaden’s expression brightened. It always did at the mention of food.

The kitchen staff showed little reaction to their entrance. Kyrin found Kaden here nearly every day, despite the rules against it. No one ever mentioned it though. The motherly head cook loved to feed him due to his appreciation for her cooking and his ready compliments.

After a quick snack, which for Kaden turned into a full meal, they wandered back upstairs with a couple of hours yet before supper.

“I think I’ll head out to the training field,” Kyrin said.

Kaden grinned at her. “Feel like beating something up?”

She laughed. They might be twins, but she wasn’t that much like her brother. “No, I just enjoy practicing.”

“Yeah, I suppose I’ll head out there too. Last time Kurt and I sparred, he said I needed to practice more. Apparently, I was sloppy.”

Kyrin glanced sidelong at him. He didn’t lack practice. That much she knew. A skilled swordsman for his age, he just didn’t apply himself most of the time.

They parted and turned toward the opposite ends of Tarvin Hall. Along the way, Kyrin passed several other students ranging in age from six to twenty years old. All wore identical uniforms—black pants, gold shirts, and black jerkins, though the boys’ jerkins ended at the waist while the girls’ fell longer, coming to a point at their knees.

The east wing of the Hall held the girls’ dormitory. At the one door leading into it, a hefty woman stood guard, tall and rigid. She barely took notice of Kyrin, but kept a watchful eye, ready to chase off any boy who might try to sneak past.

Down an incredibly long, polished wood hall, Kyrin climbed a staircase, and then another to the third floor. In the middle of this hall, she opened the door to her room. Two rows of three bunks rose one after another up the wall on the right. To the left stood a large wardrobe and a long table. A girl with flaming red hair that nearly reached her knees, the envy of the whole floor, sat on one of the bunks while a second pretty, blonde-haired girl stood at the window—Yara and Milly, two of Kyrin’s roommates. Their conversation ceased as she stepped inside.

“What happened?” Milly asked. “Where were you during lunch?”

Both girls appeared genuine. These two usually treated her civilly, at least to her face, though they tended to be a bit flighty and spoke of little besides their latest crushes or gossip. It always miffed them when Kyrin didn’t join in.

“Kaden and I were out with Elise and Meredith. Elise got distracted by an execution in the square.”

Yara wrinkled her nose. “And she got out of trouble again?”

Kyrin didn’t answer. Like Master Zocar, they would never understand. She walked to the wardrobe and pulled open the doors. Each girl had a shelf of neatly stacked clothing. Kyrin took great care to make sure the stack stayed straight and folded when she pulled out her training uniform. The girls’ head mistress would have a fit if one of her daily inspections turned up something out of place.

While she changed into the new uniform, which was similar but sturdier than the usual one to withstand the rigors of training, Yara and Milly resumed their conversation. Surprisingly, it didn’t center around boys, but rather the big evaluation and ceremony three days from now.

“I wonder how many will be chosen?” Milly said. “Surely more than last year. Do you think so, Kyrin?”

“I’m sure. Master Zocar hasn’t been especially hard on everyone for nothing.”

Yara agreed, and she and Milly speculated on who
would be chosen. Kyrin had her own guesses, but she did not share them. Talk of the promotion ceremony made her queasy. All through the year, reports went to the emperor’s men on the students’ progress. From the nineteen- and twenty-year-olds who completed their training, those with the most skill or talent received a promotion to specific positions within Arcacia’s most prominent cities. Anyone left over filled smaller government roles.

Only a couple of years remained until Kyrin’s promotion. How she wished to slow down the time. Not only would it mean separation from Kaden, but also a new, unfamiliar life. Though it might be everyone’s highest goal to achieve promotion, Kyrin wouldn’t mind if the officials overlooked her when the time came. What could she offer anyway? Acute observation skills and a perfect memory didn’t seem particularly useful. If only they’d think her useless and send her home
…with her troublemaker brother, of course.

She stuffed her damp clothes in the hamper and left Yara and Milly to their speculations. Outside, behind the Hall, the steps led down into a sweeping area with five separate training fields. Most existed for the young men and their weapons training. The riding arena took up the most space. At the creation of Tarvin Hall, they’d used it to train the students in dragon riding, not just horses. But the mysterious cretes, the only race with the skills to train dragons, had stopped dealing with Arcacia years ago. Only the very wealthy owned dragons these days, and those dwindled.

She caught another glimpse of the Draicon Arena out past the wall, a better view than on the streets, but she locked her focus on the building settled at the edge of the smallest training field. Inside the sunlit interior, the air glittered with dust particles and tickled her nose with a mixed scent of dusty wood and oiled leather. Large tables and shelves sat along the walls, but it did not contain as much equipment as the other buildings. The young women had no training in swordplay or the use of such weapons, with the exception of archery and self-defense using a quarterstaff.

At a tall wooden box, Kyrin inspected a collection of smooth oak staves. She pulled one out to weigh in her hand. Satisfied, she walked out to the training yard. A few of the older girls and trainers practiced nearby. They glanced her way, but then ignored her.

In one corner by herself, Kyrin took the staff in both hands and moved through the different stances she’d learned over the years, paying careful attention to her posture and fluidity. She came out to practice so often, her hands and feet moved almost without thought. She enjoyed this exercise. It was almost like dancing, but more precise, and helped calm her mind.

Caught up in the movement, the refreshing air of the outdoors, and the warmth of the sunshine, it startled her to turn and find another person standing a few feet away. The sandy-haired young man responded to her surprise with a broad, flashing grin.

“You look excellent,” he praised. “One of the best I’ve seen.”

“Thank you, Collin.” She let the end of her staff rest on the ground.

Of everyone at Tarvin Hall, he would surely be the number one choice for promotion at the ceremony. At nineteen, he excelled in his training and showed extraordinary leadership and teaching skills. He’d trained the young men and women for years already. No doubt his promotion would place him as a lieutenant in Emperor Daican’s army where he would work his way to captain in record time, and, eventually, general.

Kyrin’s eyes shifted to the staff in Collin’s hand. He was equipped to spar and had another set of sparring armor tucked in his other arm. He followed her gaze, and his grin widened.

“Thought you’d like someone to practice with.”

Kyrin bit back a sigh. She enjoyed her solitude, but Collin would insist if she tried to decline. He was persistent that way, and far too confident in the effect of his persuasive grin. Yet, he had a way of being endearing despite his over-inflated ego and propensity for flattery.

“Sure,” Kyrin responded, but when she glanced over at the other girls, she caught their envious and disapproving frowns. Collin was the catch of Tarvin Hall, and he soaked up every bit of the attention.

Rolling her eyes, she took the sparring equipment from him. Thick leather bracers protected her forearms, gloves protected her knuckles, and greaves covered her shins. A leather breastplate protected her ribs. While none of it would be effective in a real fight, it did help deflect an accidental blow.

Lifting her staff from the ground, she faced Collin. He took a step back. With another wide grin, he bowed gracefully at the waist. Oh, the resentment Kyrin sensed drifting her way, but she didn’t spare the other girls a glance. Instead, she held her staff in her favored defense position.

“After you, my lady,” Collin said. His voice always held a distinct tone of mirth.

Kyrin reacted with a swift and powerful downward attack. The shattering crack of the two staves echoed across the field. After the successful block, Collin countered with his own swift attack. But Kyrin responded almost before he completed his move. After so many sparring sessions with him, he’d become easy to read with every one of his moves cataloged in her brain.

Back and forth, they traded blows. At first, it was hard to look on Collin as an opponent with the grin still attached to his lips and his eyes twinkling. He enjoyed this far too much, but as the match wore on, his expression grew more focused, and Kyrin pushed every advantage she had. Soon, they both panted with exertion. Kyrin’s forearms and shoulder muscles burned, but she never let up on her attack.