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Chapter 61

Volithur had just started enhancing his leg muscles when the time came to leave for the academic competition. As the year before, he met the rest of his party in the library following breakfast. Master Rowan brought vials for all of them, with Volithur and Hazen receiving cosmic water in place of an actual elixir. They raised their glassware in toast of their upcoming victory and then were on their way.

Khana elbowed Hazen out of the way to sit beside Volithur on the transport vessel, which he pretended not to notice. Master Rowan chatted amiably with the Head Scribe and Lydia while the rest of them were ignored.

“This was the first elixir I’ve had in a long time,” Khana whispered to him. “Though not as long a time as they think.”

Volithur blushed at the reminder of the time he gifted her one of his tea powder elixirs because she had seemed sad. The voice that had always chided him for being an idiot around Khana had been fading lately. Another voice had begun to take its place. One that said crazy things. Like complaining that he no longer got to dance with Khana.

“I’m glad we have a chance to spend time away from the estate,” she continued.

Volithur made a noise of agreement. Khana smiled radiantly in response and let the rest of their ride pass in silence, other than the occasional remark from Master Rowan that the Head Scribe would rush to agree with.

Upon their arrival, they were taken to the amphitheater while one of the ever-present servants approached the pilot of their shuttle. No doubt their bags were being carried to the cottage assigned to them. The nobles sat in their padded cushions while the commoners stood in the back. As Volithur positioned himself beside Hazen, Khana squeezed her way between them, nudging Hazen away with well placed elbows.

The glance Hazen shot at Volithur effectively communicated an ‘it’s your funeral’ vibe. Volithur didn’t acknowledge the silent message. On the stage below, Stella Ilvar of the Evergreen Institute welcomed them, provided an itinerary similar to the previous year, and instructed them on how to find their cottages.

An hour later, the qualifying examinations began. Volithur breezed through the simple math equations to get a perfect score once more. Hazen achieved a similar feat in spelling. Debate and recital were scored differently, so the only feedback for Lydia and Khana was that they had advanced to the next round.

They celebrated at lunch, then retired to their cottage for the afternoon since no one was scheduled for a later exam. Master Rowan regaled the Head Scribe with his recollections of the previous year’s victory while Lydia pulled aside the other members of the team.

“The three of you need to make sure you don’t mess this up for me,” Lydia announced. “Especially Hazen and Harridan. I don’t like depending on dumb commoners, not even for simple things like spelling and calculations. I’ll see you both cut off from resources if you disappoint me.”

“We will strive to meet your expectations, Master Lydia,” Hazen said with a bow.

Volithur lowered his head to avoid her eyes, not willing to abase himself for this child. For better or worse, he spent a lot of time sparring at high intensity. As his performance on the training field improved, Volithur found it increasingly difficult to suppress his pride. He would have to walk carefully if someone from Tian arrived at the fifth household, but none of the family permanently in residence intimidated him much any more. They were typically just level five in the soul and seldom had more than a slight amount of body enhancement. He suspected they were an embarrassment to the more prominent members of the militant Shaocheth family.

“See that you do,” Lydia said in dismissal.

The young girl had barely left the room when Khana swooped in to loop her arm in his. “I hope you remember your dance lessons, Ward Harridan.”

He mumbled something in response and she leaned harder into him. “I need to start getting ready. I can’t look a mess at a formal event.”

“You never look a mess,” Volithur said. Judging by the smile he received, that had been the right answer. Or, judging by the way Hazen seized the lapels of his uniform the moment they were alone in the common room, it had been a very wrong answer.

“What do you think you are –”

Volithur drove his knee into the other boy’s side, dropping him. As Hazen bent himself in half on the floor with a soft groan, Volithur knelt down to look him in the eye. “Stay out of my business, Hazen. You made it clear a year ago that you are not my friend and I don’t care to hear your advice.”

“You will… get us both… in trouble. Khana is… still noble.”

The hardness that had been forged in his heart through a year and a half training with soldiers possessing superhuman abilities came to the surface. Volithur seized the boy’s jaw with one hand and turned the face towards his own. “Maybe you should spare some worry for how I might respond to your interference in my matters. I don’t care who your father is, Hazen. I will find you alone and I will hurt you worse than Master Dorian hurt me.”

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Hazen’s eyes went wide. “Won’t interfere. Promise.”

Volithur retired to his own room in the cottage, struggling to rein in the rage in his veins. He sat on the bed to cultivate. The rhythm of his aura expanding and contracting brought his emotions back under control in short order. Volithur forced his thoughts to remain still, refusing to analyze his intentions or obsess over consequences.

When he was at his best on the training field, he didn’t overthink his tempo, footwork, or combinations. He let his mind focus without locking it into a specific approach and things happened. That’s how he would handle… whatever he was doing now.

They attended dinner as a group and then headed over to the dance hall early. Their interactions thus far had been led by Master Rowan and Lydia. That meant a lot of anecdotes that made them seem important and condescending advice no one else needed.

The large room already had several parties present and Lydia wasted no time turning to face the commoners with hands on her hips. “Hazen and Harridan, I saw a lot of unfortunate girls earlier in the day. They will require your services on the dance floor, so don’t let me catch you sitting down.”

Khana placed her hands on her hips in a subtle mockery of the younger girl. “Ward Harridan, perhaps it would be best if I assessed your skill level before anyone else arrives.”

Volithur held out his arm in the way that she had drilled into him and she took it, the contact of their hands like electric. They moved a good distance from where their group had settled in before facing one another and beginning one of the more sedate movements.

“Are you concerned about being on your feet all night?”

“I can handle the physical discomfort,” he said. “I do worry about the tediousness.”

Khana squeezed his hand. “Surely dancing with me all night won’t be that bad.”

“All night?”

Her smile was infectious. “I worry I might get jealous if you had another partner.”

Volithur found himself standing still, staring down at the girl who had haunted his thoughts every spare moment for many months now. Her swaying stopped so that they were both rooted in place. “Whatever is the matter, Ward Harridan?”

“I think you are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.”

His words caught her off guard, cutting through the steady stream of banter she tended to employ in his presence. In the end, all she could manage was his name. His real name. “Volithur.” It sent chills down his back.

They continued to dance throughout the evening. Volithur proved more clumsy than most, but that had more to do with his state of distraction than lack of skill. Khana, for her part, did not attempt to force the twirls and quick switches that they had rehearsed for endless weeks. Instead, she held him close and watched him with her mysterious eyes.

A time or two, someone tried to cut in to dance with him or Khana, but they simply danced away without responding. Most people around them were savvy enough to realize the two of them were lost in a world of their own.

It wasn’t until the Head Scribe appeared to collect them that their fantasy ended. They separated and joined up with the others to return to the cottage. Volithur managed to sneak glances with Khana on the walk, each of them grinning like fools the whole time. The Head Scribe continually angled to position himself between them without making it seem too obvious.

Inside the cottage, Master Rowan seized the Head Scribe and insisted on a celebratory drink to cap off the night. Lydia claimed first shot at the shower and Hazen disappeared into his room. With only the two adults in sight, both of them concentrating on selecting an appropriate liquor from the cart, Khana was able to pull Volithur into her bedroom unobserved.

As always in her presence, his heart pounded like it would shatter his ribs. This time, however, no fear accompanied the adrenaline. He met her upturned lips with his own. Felt hands pulling him closer until the only distance between them was their clothing. His own hands touched her face, her back, and down further.

Their mouths welded firmly together as they made slow steps towards the bed, gasping for breath every time they came up for air. As they were about to take things horizontal, the door creaked open and Master Rowan’s nasally voice shattered the mood.

“What do you think you are doing to my niece, Ward Harridan?”

Khana spun around to face the irate noble, angling to put herself before Volithur. “Uncle!”

“She may be disinherited, but she is my blood and a noble, not some sultry commoner!”

“Uncle! Please! Ward Harridan has asked for my hand in marriage!” The rage of Master Rowan sputtered out. Khana continued to speak. “I accepted and became carried away in the moment. It is my fault.”

Master Rowan turned his eyes back to Volithur. “Is this true, Ward Harridan?”

Khana’s nails dug into his hand. “It is, Master Rowan.”

“You were always one to be overly emotional,” Master Rowan admonished his niece. “I will forgive the impropriety. But are you certain you wish to shackle your fate to that of a commoner?”

“I am certain, Uncle Rowan.”

“Then so be it. Ward Harridan, you will be sharing a bed with Hazen tonight. There will be no further intimacies until a wedding has been held.”