Jerald’s eyes darted between the gash on my shoulder and Corvin’s crumpled face.

  My stomach turned when I really saw what I’d done to him.

  “I…” I started, looking up at Jerald.

  I had never seen him this angry.

  “Brent, patch him up.” He pointed at Corvin, then hauled me upright. His gaze flicked to my shoulder, and he swore under his breath.

  “You three, with me.”

  Rob and Amelia fell in behind us as I followed Jerald toward his tent.

  You could have heard a pin drop as we crossed the ring. Every eye was on me. A short while ago they had been jeering. Now there was respect.

  And, in many faces, fear.

  My heart hammered with every step, the rush of adrenaline draining away and leaving something sharper behind.

  Panic.

  Jerald shook his head as we stepped inside his tent. It was the same as last time. A narrow desk, two battered chairs pulled up in front of it.

  “Damn it all,” he muttered. “You three were supposed to greet the recruits and gather some early allies.”

  My head dropped. I could not bring myself to meet his eyes.

  A woman in a pale robe slipped through the tent flap. Jerald nodded once and she hurried to my side, prodding at the wound with long metal tweezers.

  “Ow,” I muttered.

  “There are still a few splinters in there,” she said.

  My shoulder throbbed in answer. I could feel every one of them.

  She worked the tweezers deeper, then pressed a leather strap into my hand. “Bite down. This is going to hurt.”

  I barely got it between my teeth before she tipped a cloudy yellow mixture into the wound.

  Pain detonated through my shoulder.

  I bit down hard. My legs gave and I had to grab the edge of the desk to stay upright.

  “Ew,” Rob said faintly, staring at my shoulder.

  Thick, dark slivers pushed their way out of the torn flesh, slick with blood and yellow fluid, sliding free one by one.

  Jerald’s hard expression softened.

  “Well done,” he said quietly, his eyes flicking to the wound. “You saved Amelia. But… you went too far.”

  Rob looked ready to argue until Amelia cut him off with a look.

  “Sorry,” I said. My voice came out thin. “I didn’t mean to. I just… lost it.”

  Jerald studied my face for a long moment, then started to pace.

  “This is a real shit show,” he said flatly. “Their obvious goal was to humiliate you three. But this is far worse.”

  Amelia nodded.

  Rob frowned. “But why us?”

  I already knew the answer. “Those two work for Nick,” I said.

  “Seriously?” Rob looked between Amelia and me.

  We both nodded.

  “Those little…”

  “They’re being personally funded by the brat noble,” Jerald cut in. “He’s grooming them to be his muscle in the future.” His gaze hardened. “And that creates a few problems for us.”

  Brent halted just inside the tent and brought his fist to his chest. The easy grin he usually wore vanished, his shoulders squaring as if a line had been drawn through the air.

  “You knew they would start trouble, and you led the aspirants straight into it,” Jerald said.

  “Commandant,” Brent replied at once. “I believed it would be a useful lesson for them. I did not expect it to escalate this far.”

  “Two weeks on gate and watch detail,” Jerald said without raising his voice.

  “Yes, Commandant.” The words came out tight. He hesitated, then added, “A message has already been sent to the city.”

  Jerald’s jaw set. “When was it sent?”

  “The moment the three aspirants were escorted in,” Brent replied.

  Jerald struck the desk once, sharp and controlled, then stilled. His lips moved in a silent count.

  “That leaves us less than an hour.” His gaze settled on the three of us. “You will remain here until you are summoned. Do not leave this tent.”

  Brent inclined his head. “Shall rations be sent in, Commandant?”

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  Jerald gave a single, curt nod, and Brent turned on his heel and disappeared through the tent flap.

  “What does that mean?” I asked quietly.

  Jerald’s mouth tightened. “It means Nick will arrive thinking his men succeeded, and he won’t have called for the Justiciar yet. That gives us a little time to make sure the truth reaches the right ears first.”

  “The truth?” Rob said. “But they attacked…”

  Jerald gave him a flat look. “Since when have nobles been interested in the truth?”

  Rob scoffed but nodded anyway.

  Jerald was already moving for the exit. “Remain here,” he said over his shoulder. “I will deal with this.”

  As he passed, he threw me a final look. The message was clear.

  Keep your head down.

  Do not make this worse.

  As soon as he was out of earshot, Rob rounded on me.

  “Holy shit, mate. That was unreal.”

  “I… uh.”

  Rob punched the air. “Serves that prick right.”

  Amelia let out a slow breath. Normally this would be the part where she thanked me and told Rob off. Instead, she kept staring at the floor.

  Something was wrong.

  “You alright?” I asked.

  She shook her head.

  “That was the third time you’ve helped me,” she said quietly.

  I nodded. “And it won’t be the last.”

  Her head snapped up. She shook it again, harder this time.

  “We’re about to go into the trials,” she said. “I can’t have you saving me every time. And more than that…” Her voice dipped. “Soon you won’t be able to. And when that happens, I can’t be the one who always needs saving.”

  Rob set a hand on her shoulder. “I’m here too, you know.”

  She glanced at him and smiled, but there was a tight edge to it. “It’s not about that. I just… I want to be able to stand on my own two feet. I want to be able to help you both.”

  “Hey,” I said quietly, “the saving’s gone both ways. I can’t even count how many times you’ve helped me. Your inside knowledge alone has saved us more than once.”

  “But…”

  “You do help. A lot,” Rob added. “Honestly, without you, I’d probably be dead.” He said it far too cheerfully.

  I snorted. “Definitely, you mean.”

  He shrugged. Amelia gave a small, reluctant smile.

  “But it’s more than that,” she said. “We’re meant to be improving. Getting stronger.”

  “Hey, last time I saw you, you were cutting fog with a freaking wall of water. I’d say that’s strong.”

  She nodded, a little shy. “I suppose.” Then she let out a breath. “I’m not saying it properly. What I mean is… I need to be able to watch my own back.”

  I brightened. “Oh. Is that all?”

  They both stared at me.

  “Then what you need is something to help your perception.”

  Amelia grinned. “Oh? And what, Mr Suddenly Rich is going to produce such an item?”

  I raised both hands. “Hey, you never know. I reckon I could organise something like that.”

  Rob looked at me like I had just laid a golden egg. “Does that mean you going to finally tell us what you’re hiding?”

  I shook my head. “That would ruin the surprise.”

  “Seriously mate. You and your surprises…”

  The tent flap opened and a young face poked through.

  “’Ello there,” he said with a grin.

  The three of us stared at him.

  He slipped inside and set a large tray on the table, three bowls of meat and veg rattling as the cutlery clattered. “Name’s Derry.”

  “Derry?” Rob echoed.

  “Just a nickname,” he said cheerfully. “Lads gave it to me.” His eyes slid to me. “So, Butcher. How’d you nick that blessing that turned your eyes purple?”

  “Butcher?”

  He grinned. “Come on, share the goods. The boys reckon it’s some kind of night blessing, from, you know…” He leaned in closer. “Everyone knows you and the Commandant went and put a hag down together.”

  “You did what now?” Rob asked.

  “We didn’t,” I said quickly. “We tried to. She kind of just… left on her own.”

  “But you must’ve done something?”

  I shrugged. “Kinda.”

  Rob and Derry shared a look, equal parts impressed and frustrated.

  “So, you’re not gonna spill the beans?”

  I sighed. “Can’t. Sorry.”

  They wouldn’t believe me anyway.

  He turned to Rob. “This one keepin’ secrets from you too?”

  Rob barked a laugh that answered for him.

  Amelia cleared her throat. “Well, Derry. Thank you for…” She gestured at the food.

  He waved it off. “No probs.” Then he slapped my shoulder. “And hey. Good on ya for droppin’ those two, Butcher!”

  “You going to explain the name to me?”

  He glanced at my fist, then laughed. “Mate, you just butchered the top two recruits in the barracks by yourself, as they were cheating. Then, when Corvin was about to straight-up cut you in half, you destroyed him. Properly messed his face up.”

  My mouth opened, but nothing came out.

  “Like a bloody meat tenderiser,” he added, shaking his head. “Mate… you’re fucking scary.”

  Rob nodded.

  Amelia went quiet.

  “Hence, Butcher,” Derry said with a crooked grin. “Anyway, enjoy the food. I’ve got kitchen duty, so I’d better get back.” He hesitated, then glanced at Rob. “Rob, was it?”

  Rob nodded.

  “Fancy a spar later?”

  From the way he said it, he sounded just as sword-mad as our resident Australian.

  Rob beamed. “Definitely.”

  Derry slipped back out through the tent flap.

  “Well, shit… Butcher, eh?” Rob said. “I need a cool nickname too.”

  “I thought ‘idiot’ suited you fine,” Amelia said with a smirk.

  “Yeah, yeah…”

  She laughed, and I couldn’t help joining in.

  We dug into the small bowls of meat and veg, and Rob immediately started rattling off possible names for himself. Amelia eventually had to rein him in, reminding him that nicknames were meant to be given, not made up.

  He protested that an Aussie without a nickname was seriously un-Australian.

  The banter eased some of the tension, but the adrenaline still hadn’t drained properly. My chest felt heavy, and the thought of that message to the city made the food taste like cardboard.

  “Yeah, this is nowhere near Doyle quality,” Amelia said between mouthfuls, somehow still finishing faster than the rest of us.

  I pushed my bowl toward her. I could not eat anymore. I felt sick.

  She did not hesitate before polishing off the rest.

  Just as cutlery clattered onto the tray, raised voices echoed outside the tent. There was no mistaking who they belonged to. The argument carried right up to the canvas, then the flap ripped open and Nick stormed inside.

  “I’ll have you three flogged before the entire city,” he shouted.

  “Fuck off, you will,” Brent snapped.

  Jerald stepped in front of him. “You have no authority to demand anything of the sort.”

  Nick looked at him with open contempt. “Yeah? Try me.”

  “We didn’t do anything,” Rob said.

  “Quiet Rob!” Jerald barked.

  The steel in his voice was devastating.

  “I’ve just ordered my men to call the Justiciar,” Nick said loudly. “He’ll be here within the hour. We can say goodbye to your bullshit trials and send you straight to the gallows.”

  Jerald slammed his hand on the table.

  “You forget yourself, boy. You are not standing within the city. This is military ground, and while you stand here, you answer to me.”

  Nick flinched back a step.

  “You may be a noble,” Jerald went on, voice cold and steady, “but in this tent you are no better than a civilian. Now close your mouth, or I will have you flogged in their place.”

  Nick froze. His face had gone crimson.

  The next few minutes passed in low mutters and hurried whispers as we waited for the Justiciar to arrive. Jerald walked us through what we would say. In truth, most of it was for me, but knowing how nobles loved to twist details, Amelia and Rob could easily be dragged into it as well.

  After an excruciating wait, measured footsteps crossed the sawdust outside. An armed guard drew the tent flap aside and stepped back at once.

  The boy who entered did not hurry.

  Nick sneered. Jerald straightened. My stomach tightened.

  He looked our age, but nothing else about him felt it. Taller even than Nick, jet-black hair cut clean and deliberate, clothes so perfectly made they did not crease as he moved. Not armour. Not finery.

  Authority.

  “Master Vortigern,” Jerald said evenly. “What do we owe the visit?”

  Lucan’s eyes moved to Jerald first, then to us. When his gaze reached me, it paused.

  Just long enough. It was the noble boy from the tailors.

  A thin, precise smile touched his mouth.

  “Please,” he said softly. “Call me Lucan.”