“I’ll think about it.”
Don’t underestimate the challenge of the Gauntlet, Mira. It’s designed to test your balance, strength, and agility. The times don’t matter for shit, only that you make it to the top. Reach for the ropes when you have to. Coming in last is better than coming in dead.
—Page forty-six, the Book of Brennan
CHAPTER
TEN
I look up, and up, and up, fear coiling in my stomach like a snake ready to strike.
“Well, that’s…” Rhiannon swallows, her head tilted just as far back as mine as we stare at the menacing obstacle course that’s carved into the front of a ridgeline so steep, it might as well be a cliff. The zigzagging death trap of a trail rises above us, climbing in five distinct switchbacks of 180-degree turns, each increasing in difficulty on the way to the top of the bluff that divides the citadel from the flight field and the Vale.
“Amazing.” Aurelie sighs.
Rhiannon and I turn, both staring at her like she must have hit her head.
“You think that hellscape looks amazing?” Rhiannon asks.
“I’ve been waiting years for this!” Aurelie grins, her normally serious black eyes dancing in the morning sun as she rubs her hands together, shifting from one toned leg to the other in glee. “My dad—he was a rider until he retired last year—used to set up obstacle courses like this all the time so we could practice, and Chase, my brother, said it’s the best part of being here before Threshing. It’s a real adrenaline rush.”
“He’s with the Southern Wing, right?” I ask, focusing on the obstacle course running up the side of a fucking cliff. It looks more like a death trap than an adrenaline rush, but sure, we can go with that. Positive thinking for the win, right?
“Yep. Pretty much desk duty for all the action they see near the Krovlan border.” She shrugs and points about two-thirds up the course. “He said to watch out for those giant posts jutting from the side of the cliff. They spin, and you can get crushed between them if you’re not fast enough.”
“Oh, good, I was wondering when it might get difficult,” Rhiannon mutters.
“Thanks, Aurelie.” I locate the series of nearly touching, three-foot-wide logs that jut out from the rocky terrain like a set of round steps rising from the ground to the switchback above it and nod. Go fast. Got it. You could have included that tidbit, Brennan.
The obstacle course is the embodiment of my worst nightmare. For the first time since Dain begged me to leave last week, I consider Markham’s offer. There are no death courses in the Scribe Quadrant, that’s for certain.
But you’ve already made it this far. Ahh, there she is, the little voice that’s been riding my shoulder lately, daring to give me hope that I might actually survive Presentation.
“Still not sure why they call it the Gauntlet,” Ridoc says from my right, blowing into his cupped hands to ward off the morning chill. The sun hasn’t touched this little crevice, but it’s shining above the last quarter of the course.
“To ensure dragons keep coming to Threshing by weeding out the weaklings.” Tynan sneers from Ridoc’s other side, folding his arms over his chest as he casts a pointed look at me.
I shoot him a glare and then shake it off. He’s been pissy ever since Rhiannon handed his ass to him on the mat at assessment.
“Knock it the fuck off,” Ridoc snaps, earning the entire squad’s attention.
My eyebrows lift. I’ve never seen Ridoc lose his temper or use anything but humor to defuse a situation before.
“What’s your problem?” Tynan shoves a strand of thick, dark hair from his eyes and pivots like he’s going to stare some intimidation into Ridoc, but it doesn’t really work out, seeing as Ridoc is twice as wide and half a foot taller.
“My problem? You think because you made friends with Barlowe and Siefert that you have the right to be a dick to your own squadmate?” Ridoc challenges.
“Exactly. Squadmate.” Tynan gestures toward the obstacle course. “Our times aren’t just ranked individually, Ridoc. We’re scored as a squad, too, which is how the order for Presentation is decided. Do you really think any dragon wants to bond a cadet who walks in after every other squad in the processional?”
Fine, he has a point. It’s a shitty one, but it’s there.
“They’re not timing us for Presentation today, asshole.” Ridoc takes a step forward.
“Stop.” Sawyer shuffles between the two, shoving Tynan’s chest hard enough to make him stagger back into the girl behind him. “Take it from someone who made it through Presentation last year: your time doesn’t mean anything. The last cadet to walk in last year bonded just fine, and some of the cadets in the first squad onto the field were passed over.”
“Little bitter about that, aren’t you?” Tynan smirks.
Sawyer ignores the barb. “Besides, it’s not called the Gauntlet because it weeds out cadets.”
“It’s called the Gauntlet because this is the cliff that guards the Vale,” Professor Emetterio says, walking up behind our squad, his shaved head glinting in the growing sunlight. “Plus, actual gauntlets—armored gloves made of metal—are slippery as hell, and the name stuck about twenty years ago.” He cocks a brow at Tynan and Sawyer. “Are you two done arguing? Because all nine of you have exactly an hour to get to the top before it’s another squad’s chance to practice, and from what I’ve seen of your agility on the mat, you’re going to need every second.”
There’s a grumble of assent in our little group.
“As you know, hand-to-hand challenges are on hold for the next two and a half weeks before Presentation so you can focus here.” Professor Emetterio flips a page on the little notebook he carries. “Sawyer, you’re going to show them how it’s done, since you already have the lay of the land. Then Pryor, Trina, Tynan, Rhiannon, Ridoc, Violet, Aurelie, and Luca.” A smile curves the harsh line of his mouth as he finishes calling out every name in our squad, and we file into order. “You’re the only squad to remain intact since Parapet. That’s incredible. Your squad leader must be very proud. Wait here for a second.” He walks past us, waving at someone high up on the cliff.
No doubt that someone has a watch.
“Aetos is especially proud of Sorrengail.” Tynan gifts me with a mocking sneer once our instructor is out of hearing range.
I see red. “Look, if you want to talk shit about me, that’s one thing, but leave Dain out of it.”
“Tynan,” Sawyer warns, shaking his head.
“Like it doesn’t bother any of you that our squad leader is fucking one of us?” Tynan throws out his hands.
“I’m not—” I start, indignation getting the best of me before I can take a deep breath. “Honestly, it’s none of your godsdamned business who I’m sleeping with, Tynan.” Though if I’m going to get accused, can’t I have some of the perks? If I know Dain, he’s hung up on the whole fraternization-is-discouraged-within-the-chain-of-command thing like this asshole. But surely Dain would actually make a move if he really wanted to, right?
