Page 45 of ColdIron
“Second-years are here too,” the cadet beside her muttered. “Everyone just wants to see him.”
I felt Aelindor before he entered.
His magic flared in the matrix of my mind. The air rippled.
The ambient noise—the shuffling, the whispered gossip, the nervous energy of hundreds of cadets packed into a room—died in an instant. Every spine straightened. Every pair of eyes fixed on the door.
Ooh, powerful and delicious.The demon perked up, its voice sliding through my thoughts like silk.The Fae’s here.
18
MAX
The crowd parted for Prince Aelindor the way water parts for a ship’s prow.
Every cadet within sight snapped to attention, fists to chests. The ones sitting surged to their feet, chairs scraping. Every face was slack with awe.
I understood then why the room was packed. The Fae heir didn’t walk these halls often. Today he’d descended.
He wore a high-collared coat in silver with midnight-blue panels along the cuff linings. The Virgo sigil, a winged maiden bearing a sheaf of grain, gleamed in gold over his left breast. His hair, silver and radiant as starfall, flowed past broad shoulders. He wore power the way other men wore cologne, but on him it was quieter, colder, and far more dangerous. His deep blue eyes swept the room in a single pass.
Amid hundreds of bodies crammed into a space, his gaze found me in the back corner like a compass needle finding north. As if he’d known exactly where I’d be sitting before he walked through the door.
Something fluttered behind my ribs, and I tried to dull the light in my eyes at seeing him.
Aelindor strolled to the front of the classroom, two aides in pewter silver flanking him. Fae as well—pointed ears, cropped silver hair, the lean builds of fighters disguised under immaculate uniform.
The prince stepped behind the podium. His aides positioned themselves on either side of the front wall, hands clasped behind their backs, gazes scanning the crowd, making sure no threats reached their boss.
“You’re all aware this is an orientation class,” the shorter aide began. “You’ve taken it before, except the seven newest recruits. There’s no need for you to sit through a lesson you’ve already learned.”
No one left. No one moved. No one so much as shifted their weight. But everyone held their breath, afraid of being driven away.
“Since this won’t cut into your regular training time, you’re welcome to stay.” Aelindor’s voice was unhurried, rich, musical. “Please sit.”
We took our seats. Those without seats folded themselves onto the floor.
“I’ll briefly cover how the old world ended eighty-one years ago,” the prince stated, his gaze finding me again, “and why we all ended up here. For the benefit of our new recruits.”
I stared back. Not because his beauty hit me the way it hit everyone else in the room. My gaze clung to him because I was starving for knowledge, for truth. After my parents died, my education had ended. Whatever scraps my little sister could smuggle down from the surfacewere all I got. Everything I knew about this world, I’d pieced together from overheard whispers, propaganda flyers, and the demon’s half-truths. This was the first time someone with actual authority and firsthand experience was offering me the full picture.
“After that, we’ll extend today’s lecture to cover the wyvern attack last week. Battle brief included.”
Cheers went up, some cadets pumping fists and others slapping desks.
“These classroom briefs are usually only for second-years, with regular instructors,” someone whispered, his voice reverent. “Real-time briefs are for high-ranking officers. The prince is letting us in on something huge.”
The cadets around him nodded eagerly, like chickens pecking at scattered grain.
“Since most of you already know the basics, let’s make this an open discussion rather than a lecture.” Aelindor’s voice carried warmth. “We’ll start with the foundations so our new recruits can follow.” He scanned the room. “Who can tell us how the old world ended?”
Hands shot up across the room. The woman soldier with the half-shaved head—Bryn, I’d heard someone call her—raised both hands. I understood why she wanted his attention. Me, I hunched lower and tried to make myself smaller.
Aelindor pointed at her. She rocked to her feet.
“Everyone blames the White Witch for the world going to shit.” Bryn’s tone was unapologetic, almost challenging. “But nobody talks about what came before the Shift. About how the continent was already broken.”
A low chorus of boos rippled through the room. Thisbase hated the White Witch with the fervor of people who’d lost family to her wars.
