Kiera stood waiting just beyond the tent area, arms crossed as she leaned against one of the Academy's outer pillars. Sunlight caught the edges of her dark hair as she turned toward Vael's approaching footsteps.
"How'd yours go?" she asked, though the knowing glint in her eye suggested she already had her answer.
"Same as you, apparently," Vael said, nodding toward the testing tents. "Heard your crystal shatter from three tents over."
Kiera's smirk widened as she pushed off the pillar. "Please. Mine only cracked. Yours sounded like a glass chandelier hitting marble."
They fell into step together, joining the growing current of applicants streaming toward the Academy's main gates.
Passing through the towering archway, they both stopped mid-stride.
The central courtyard sprawled before them like a living tapestry—a sea of nearly a thousand candidates shifting and murmuring. Nobles in fine silks stood shoulder-to-shoulder with commoners in patched traveling clothes. Towering warriors from the southern territories brushed past sharp-eyed youths who carried themselves like thieves. The air hummed with the metallic tang of nervous sweat.
Vael's fingers twitched at his side. What kind of exam needs this many participants? he wondered. And what kind of school needs this many students?
With no proctors in sight and no instructions given, they took the opportunity to study their competition. Most of the other applicants were doing the same.
A flash of movement caught Vael's eye—a shock of white hair standing out among the darker heads. Its owner was a head shorter than Vael, his build unremarkable beneath plain traveler's garb. But where others carried at least a scrap of confidence, this one trembled like a leaf in a storm. His eyes darted constantly, fingers worrying at his sleeves, shoulders hunched as if bracing for a blow.
Now there's someone who looks guilty, Vael mused, watching the youth jump at a nearby laugh. Though unless he's got an ancient evil serpent stuffed down his trousers, I think I've got him beat for illicit cargo.
His gaze shifted to a more obvious threat—a mountain of a man in the courtyard's center. The giant stood easily seven feet tall, his shoulders broad enough to block sunlight.
A pack the size of a small child hung from one shoulder as if it weighed nothing. His plain brown hair and simple clothes did nothing to diminish the aura of solid, immovable strength that radiated from him. The way he stood—feet planted like roots, arms loose but ready—reminded Vael uncomfortably of Drako. This was a man who could take a hit and keep coming.
Then Vael noticed a blonde girl.
At first glance, she seemed utterly unremarkable—pretty in a conventional way, dressed in serviceable clothes, her posture neither bold nor timid. But the longer he looked, the more something nagged at him. She didn't fidget like the others. Didn't scan the crowd. Didn't adjust her stance or her belongings.
She simply existed—so perfectly forgettable that Vael realized he'd looked past her three times already.
Now that's dangerous, he thought, locking eyes with her on purpose. If the exam involved stealth or subterfuge, this was someone who could slide a dagger between your ribs before you even noticed she'd moved.
He filed her face away in his mental catalog of threats, resolving to check his back twice as often if their paths crossed.
Kiera's elbow caught him in the ribs. "So?" she asked under her breath. "Who's topping your list of people to avoid?"
Vael's gaze swept the crowd one last time before settling. "Her," he said, nodding subtly toward the blonde. "No question."
Kiera followed his line of sight. Her eyes narrowed, then she sucked in a sharp breath.
"Shit, you're right. My eyes keep sliding right off her. How'd you even notice?"
"Same way I know when you're about to stab me in training," Vael muttered. "Your turn. Who's got you worried?"
Kiera didn't hesitate. She pointed toward the edge of the gathering, where a lone figure sat apart from the others.
The black-haired man might have seemed unremarkable at first—lean rather than muscular, posture relaxed as he traced idle patterns in the dirt with a broken branch. But the way his shoulders moved suggested coiled strength, and his dark eyes held a depth that made Vael's instincts prickle.
Three details stood out: fresh bandages wrapped around his forearm with no signs of blood or injury, the casual grace of someone utterly at ease in dangerous situations, and the massive, wicked-looking scythe strapped across his back—its curved blade gleaming even in diffuse sunlight.
Vael's fingers twitched again. "Now that's interesting," he murmured, a slow grin spreading across his face. "I really want to fight him."
Kiera groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Of course you do. Try not to get decapitated by Farmer Death over there, would you? I'd hate to carry your corpse back to Ash."
Vael opened his mouth to retort when—
BONG.
The deep, resonant toll of bells rolled across the courtyard, cutting every conversation short.