Alex Lidell - The Cadet of Tildor

“He did.” Her shoulders sagged and she reached to take the chits from Diam. “But it wasn’t for sport. He was looking for you.”

Diam jerked his treasure from reach. “I wanna go.” His chin set. His hands gripped the metal bits as if they were a message from his brother. “Korish bought these. He bought them, so we have to go.”

Renee was about to reject him again, but Diam’s desperate eyes halted her. She took a breath. He asked for so little. Yes, the scraps of information a spectator could gather from watching the pointless killing would be meager, but there was little else she could do. And if . . . “Will you promise to stay within sight of Hunter’s Inn and mind the innkeeper’s wife?” she asked, and was rewarded by immediate head bobbing. “Very well.” Renee squatted down to the boy’s level. “But you must keep to your word. Your brother offered his life for yours. Don’t squander his sacrifice.”

Diam’s green eyes widened and he nodded again.

Renee prayed to the gods that was enough.

The Underground took time to find. Hidden in plain sight, its facade blended with the crumbling brick of the rest of the block. Inside, it bustled with youthful energy. Adolescents crowded the mismatched tables, shouting and laughing over one another.

Renee expected to find Alec in a corner and swallowed surprise at seeing him amidst a thick crowd. Several girls around him leaned forward in their seats, their eyes glued on his moving lips. Smiling, Renee wondered whether her friend even noticed the attention. His muscled body, so typical among the fighter cadets, here drew admiring gazes.

When she approached, a boy with skinny shoulders and black curls smiled a greeting. His eyes traced her curves, and he blushed when she raised an eyebrow. Hers was a fighter’s body too. The corners of her mouth twitched.

The boy grinned. “I’m Ivan. What’s your name?”

“Renee,” Alec answered for her. He sounded more startled than pleased. “Good to see you.” He gave her his seat and pulled up another chair for himself. A pause stretched several heartbeats. “Uh, let me introduce you. Renee, uh, meet Ellina, Sheri, Ivan, Jasper, Timon . . . ” He motioned to each companion in turn, continuing around the dozen people at the table.

She forced a smile, infected with her friend’s discomfort. The group smiled back. The boy with black curls held out his hand, a tentacle of blue glow snaking its way to her. She frowned, looking at Alec for clarification.

Her friend blushed, and a light stream of his own swam out, meeting the boy’s. “No, she isn’t, uh—”

The boy’s glow and smile died together. “She’s a blinder?”

Alec’s lack of answer ushered in a heavy silence. Her skin crawled. Blinder. Under their scrutiny, Renee scraped back her chair, collected her dignity, and faced her friend. “I found practice swords and came to see if you wished to spar.”

“Sure,” Alec answered too quickly and bid the table farewell, promising to return.

“Nonsense.” A pretty boy with peach-fuzz cheeks and glasses rose with Alec. “We’ll watch. I love a fight.”

Shushing the warning bells in her head, Renee headed for the door.

The small clearing they found offered privacy from pedestrians, but felt wrong nevertheless. Backs of buildings surrounded three sides of the patch of dirt, and a small fence in the corner blocked the pile of trash, but not its stench. The handful of youths who followed them from the tavern gathered near one of the walls. Standing with her back to them, Renee brought up her blade in salute, and let her body’s cry for exercise drown out all else.

Alec secured his stance and engaged, the weapon dancing its way toward Renee’s abdomen. She parried the attack easily. Too easily. Then again. The strikes labored to pick up speed, the rolling beat of wood on wood growing in cadence, yet stopping short of climax, as if dulled by invisible cotton. Renee lunged toward his head. Alec missed the parry and, unconcerned, reset for the next bout.

Blood pulsated in her temple. “Are you paying attention?”

“Mage zero, blinder one! Scary.” The sideline jeers rose between them.

Alec rolled his eyes. She glared, and his gaze chilled in reply. When he attacked, his blade sailed full force. Renee redirected the strike moments before it could welt her arm. Her breath stilled in surprise, but he granted her no time for reflection. A second attack followed, and a third, each pregnant with power. She switched her stance to favor the speed-based game Savoy had taught her, staying ahead of the blows whose force she couldn’t match. The fight morphed from dance to death match. Pouring her frustrations into action, she met him step for step, countering his strength with angles of her blade. It was exhilarating. And frightening.

Pivoting from another savage strike, Renee wondered who this cold-eyed boy was, and whether his emerging new world had space left for her. Contemplation led to a misstep. Unable to redirect his attack, she raised her sword to meet the blow straight on. The blades locked above her head, his pressing down, hers up. Renee’s arms trembled against the pressure until, slowly, Alec overpowered her with brute strength.

The swords touched her head. The audience cheered. Alec studied the ground, his face a stone.

A cold wind ruffled Renee’s sweat-soaked hair and stung her eyes. Wiping a sleeve across her face, she took a moment to readjust her blade, unwilling to feel anything beyond the chill air and slippery wood. He wanted to play this game? Very well. Let him. Looking up, she saw him backing away. “Exhausted?” she demanded.

“Ooooh! Challenge!” shouted the ever-helpful sideline. But this time its rally wasn’t unanimous.

“It’s cold,” a voice complained.

“Agreed. Enough toying with the blinder, Alec.”

The stillness of her face faltered, her knuckles went white. Renee twisted around and pierced the spectators with her eyes. “Toying?”

The black-curled boy, Ivan, shrugged. “It’s too cold for this game.” When she continued staring, he rolled his eyes. “You’re waving a wooden stick around.”

“Want to try?”

“Renee, don’t.” Alec stepped beside her. “You don’t understand.”

Her heart pounded in her ears. “No, he doesn’t understand.” Nor do you. Plucking the practice sword from Alec’s hand, she tossed it to the challenger. “Come play.”

The boy’s smug grin grew wide when he caught the blade. He stepped out in front of her, mocked a salute, and stumbled into a semblance of a fighting stance. His sword wavered, threatening to crash from his hand. Bringing up her weapon, Renee decided to start with disarming the bastard.

Her attack never happened. The moment she moved, the boy’s free hand shot a stream of blue flame that turned Renee’s sword into a torch. She dropped the burning wood while Ivan hooted and laughed, his mirth spreading to the audience.

“I tried to warn you,” Alec said quietly.

Renee caught amusement dancing across his face. The betrayal pierced like steel. She backed away, one step, then another, unsure where she had left to go. The sounds of the world blended and muted. She saw the other mages’ lips move, but couldn’t spare the effort to make out the words. Turning on her heels, she fled the yard.

Renee sprinted through Catar’s streets. When pedestrians shouted at her back, she chose emptier corridors, heedless of direction, heedless of everything but the pounding of her feet and the cold air filling her lungs. A bend took her down a dead-end street. She shifted to run back and froze.

“Looks like I got me lucky,” slurred a man whose wine-stained shirt hung half-tucked from his britches. Behind him, a half dozen others cheered agreement. Patting one another’s shoulders, they spread across the width of the corridor, blocking her route.