Total pages in book: 214
Estimated words: 195876 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 979(@200wpm)___ 784(@250wpm)___ 653(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 195876 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 979(@200wpm)___ 784(@250wpm)___ 653(@300wpm)
I grin, because I know Sestra lavishes Mireen with praise and the two of them seem to get along better than most. I still appreciate Mireen trying to cheer me up, though, so I don't make a point of mentioning it.
We enter the dining hall, its soaring ceiling a masterpiece of architectural wonder. Massive crystal chandeliers hover without visible support, casting rainbow-flecked light across the stone floors polished to a mirror shine. Around us, students from all years take seats and dig into heaping plates of steaming food, their colored markings denoting their affinities—the blue spirals of water, the amber flames of fire, the emerald mountain patterns of earth, and the silvery wisps of air.
I find my eyes lingering on the first-year legacies, who sit in small groups, divided by affinity. Most days, I hardly even see the legacies except at meal times. They’re all busy with special classes and assignments, some of which even take them beyond the walls of Confluence. Since they’ve been training their whole lives for this, first-year legacies are already far beyond the rest of us. Most of them will wind up being our generals and commanders if we survive to graduation.
It's hard to believe five of us might get promoted to legacies if we win the Crucible. But I'm hardly worried about that. I just want the people I care about to survive it.
Despite my mood, I still marvel at the beauty of Confluence sometimes. For all its dangers, the castle itself is breathtaking. And even if I hate to admit it, I've come to find a kind of happiness here in my daily routines. The endless weapons training leaves me bruised and sore, the exercises only make it worse, and then it's hours of academic classes, channeling practice, and working with our elementals to strengthen our tethers and learning to fight together with them.
I enjoy the education and the challenge. I’ve learned so much in such a short period of time. I love the friends I’ve made, the feeling of getting stronger every day, and the sense that I’m capable of protecting the people I care about more and more with each step I take. And… well, it's hardly worth pretending I don't enjoy thinking about what might happen with Raith. Gods know I dream about it constantly.
We join Beck and Ambrose at our usual table, where platters of steaming food already wait.
"So," Beck says around a mouthful of roasted meat, "I saw you royally fail, but I didn't get to hear what Sestra's said to you when she chewed you out before class ended.”
"Beck!" Mireen hisses, kicking him under the table.
"What? We all saw it." He shrugs unapologetically. "I'm just asking for details."
"Nothing new, really," I reply, tearing my bread into small pieces. "Just how I’m a total failure, an embarrassment to the academy, and probably going to wind up as a bloodstain during the Crucible.”
"Harsh,” Beck says, biting a huge piece out of bread, hardly chewing, then swallowing. “Did you suggest she go fuck herself? What do you have to lose at this point, right? It’s not like she could be even more shitty to you. And I doubt she could fail you any harder than she already has.”
"That's terrible advice," Ambrose interjects, adjusting his glasses. "Antagonizing instructors before the Crucible is strategically unsound."
"Everything is 'strategically unsound' with you," Beck complains. “Using the restroom without making sure there’s enough wiping tissue would be strategically unsound.”
Mireen narrows her eyes. “Yes… it would, Beck.”
He shrugs. “I’m just saying. Sometimes you’ve got to live your life. See what happens.”
Ambrose ignores him, turning to me instead. "Speaking of strategically unsound... we should start practicing with Brunhild. If she's going to be our fifth, we need to make sure we work well together."
I nod, even though my mind swims with responsibilities already. Training sessions with Raith. Time I want to devote to still pouring over the Unbound book, looking for anything I might have missed. Finding a way to slip outside the castle and practice flying with Typhon. All this on top of our usual duties here.
"I'll let her know," Beck says. "You guys free tonight? I could see if she can meet us."
"Not tonight," I say quietly as I think of my plans to meet with Raith for more training.
Mireen tilts her head. "Right. She’s probably wanting to practice some channeling to catch up with Sestra.”
"Right," I say, suppressing a twinge of guilt because that’s not at all what I’m planning.
"Tomorrow, then," Mireen says. "Instructor Pilton is off doing gods-know-what with that group of legacies this week. We can use the time we'd normally be in Military Tactics class to practice with Brunhild."
"Sounds good," Beck says. "I'll pass the word on."
The conversation shifts to more Crucible preparation, but my mind wanders. I can't stop thinking about what Raith and I overheard yesterday at the quarry—Bastian's concern that this year's Crucible would be a bloodbath, his father's dismissal of those concerns, the mention of "burned out marks" and a siphon possibly hunting students. The revelation that Bastian, of all people, seemed genuinely worried about our safety.