Chapter seven part one - Sexual tension and wanting to break hands

I was up before dawn, restless from not finding the bed to my liking. It's not that it wasn't comfortable. The lavish quilts were practically idealistic to melt into. But I'd missed my bed... my home.

Sighing at the edge of the trunk where I'd placed my belongings, I marvel at the sleeveless skintight leather armory that clings onto the thickness of my thighs in a midnight black shade. Scales like overlapping snakes travel from under my breasts towards my neck, where the Venator crest of a dragon lies. When I arrived back last night with Freya, everything I needed as a trainee was carefully laid out on my bed. The surprise on my face was endless when I'd figured how fitting the training clothes were and rather flattering too.

"Nara, Nara, Nara!" Freya skips out of the washroom in the same attire as me, showing her slim figure. Her black curls are pinned into a half updo with a purple satin ribbon tied around. "Are you ready?"

I nod, finishing braiding my long tresses before she grabs my hand, a habit she does that I've already encountered since my arrival.

She takes me through the same crimson hallways, down to the ground floor where open double marble doors lead to a mess hall. Chatter echoes each corner of the vast room, and mahogany tables full of Venators and trainees sit down for breakfast. While Venators had different armory with their intricate flame designs, trainees appear dressed in the same garment as me—except for the men have longer sleeves.

My eyes then slide to a stone wall on my left with markings, which I can only gather were of names. I try not to let the known thoughts over what that meant cave in my chest as we go grab servings of oats and bread.

No one speaks to us nor looks in our direction as we drop on the benches, eating away. At the same time, Freya explains her glee over porridge and curiously stares at the way I rush down every last bit of food in my bowl.

Once she finishes, everyone else seems to rush towards another grand room located past the mess hall. Sheer gold curtains made of gossamer hang by the large glass window panes and weapon racks, full of bows, spears, swords, and more mount on the emerald walls.

Like a lost fawn, I follow Freya as everyone grabs their weapons. She picks out a quiver, slinging it over her shoulder as well as a bow. I assume this was her usual choice to fight with. On my part, I don't pick out anything. I wasn't sure what to, considering there were many I wanted to take.

Instead, we stride towards the doorless archway at the end of the room that goes out into acres of fields across Aurum castle. Trainees were already lined up as the heat of the sun radiates outwards into the bright day. Taking in everything, I notice training dummies, targets for archery, and throwing knives before Freya pinches the side of me to get in formation with the rest.

I frown, although her gaze focuses in front. I follow it to see a bald man older than most of us, perhaps middle-aged, pacing back and forth slowly while Lorcan and other Venators stay still behind him. The man's hands are behind his back as he scowls at each and every one of us. He has the same red band such as Lorcan's and others I'd seen at the front gates. But the one distinct thing was his red cape flowing behind him with each step he took, complementing the richness of his dark skin.

"As you all know," he begins as the sun bounces off his armor plates. "With the trial approaching this summer, you are expected to be at the level we think is acceptable—"

"Is that the General?" I lean into Freya. His brass voice continues on in the background, like all he's ever done in his life is shout.

Freya's eyes widen though it disappears relatively fast as she anxiously bites her lip. "Yes, um, General Erion."

That was a rather strange reaction. One I'd question her on except the air fills with sudden apprehension, and I snap my head forward to see General Erion standing right in front of us.

I stand eye level with him as he stares at me for a few scrutinizing moments before saying, "So, you're Nathaniel's daughter." The lines on his forehead protrude. I can't tell whether he's glad I'm the daughter or not. "My deputy tells me you helped capture an Ardenti." A quick glance over his shoulder to Lorcan.

"Yes, sir." I hold affirmative in my tone.

He lifts his chin, and the sharpness of his features goes unnoticed as he chuckles bitterly. "Let's see if you can last as long as he did."

So, it is not a good thing for him. He turns halfway as if he's done analyzing me. Still, I can't help when I clench my jaw and splurge out, "With all due respect, my father was an excellent Venator. I don't think he ever mentioned you being up there, regardless of titles."

He stops, slowly looking back at me as his mocking smile ceases too. I'd ticked him off. He can see I'm not backing down, making his eye twitch before glancing at my left hand. "I don't recall that being part of the livery."

"And I don't recall the Venators being so sensitive about their attires," I retort. Freya's body goes rigid beside me. And I can swear I almost saw Lorcan choke on his own laughter if not for my sight focusing on General Erion's ears burning bright red.

His brown eyes cold and deadly narrow and like an animal snatching its prey, he grabs me, yanking the glove off. Deft fingers harden on my wrist as he tilts it around, so my palm faces upwards.

Don't cause more of a scene than you already have; I feel the need to remind myself as I exhale harshly through my nose and some trainee's snicker in the background. I don't look at anyone except General Erion. My brows lower as his gaze journeys the uneven skin on my palm, leading up to my forearm.

"I can see why you kept it covered," he murmurs, hinting at a cruel smile.

With my other hand, I curl my fingers inward, tight enough I could draw blood. I then peek over at Lorcan. He isn't looking at me, but he is at my scar, a stoic stare on it.

Gritting my teeth, I glare back at the General, but as I'm about to pull my hand out of his grip, he raises my arm in the air.

"This," he says, glancing at the others. "This! Is a prime example of what could happen to any of you if you don't keep your mouth shut..." He drops my arm forcefully, looking at me one last time before saying, "Everyone dismissed."

I clasp my hand as he strolls off alongside other Venators. Humored with himself and still holding onto my glove, I know he has no intention of giving it back.

Cautiously gazing around me, trainees whisper to one another, laughing while Freya shoots me an apologetic look. She parts her mouth, seeming like she wants to say something, but I shake my head, signaling it's okay, and walk off.