Page 82 of Storm Caller

We enter the gym a short while later to the sounds of pumping music and that signature scent of rubber and sweat. I inhale deeply and then wrinkle my nose.

It feels a bit like coming home.

Despite this being an optional session, the room is mostly full. They warned us that our first year of training would feel like the playpen in comparison to the second, and there’s no time to waste getting started.

I remember how hard Raine worked. We barely saw him, and when we did, he looked permanently exhausted.

When I spot Henry on the other side of the room, offering instructions to a group of third-year students, tension releases in my shoulders. I was so happy to see him at my trial, and I want to talk to him more about it, but I know this isn’t the place.

When he spots me, he waves, and I make my way over while Rook and Domino head to opposite corners to start their daily strength training.

“Poet,” Henry says. “I’m so happy to see you out and about. How are you doing after all that mess?”

“I’m okay. Thank you for speaking up for me. You have no idea how much I appreciate it.”

“You were wrongly accused,” he says. “It was the right thing to do.”

He watches me with a careful look.

Henry knows more about Raine than he’s letting on. I’m sure of it. The cryptic warnings he offered about protecting myself. He’s friends with Danica, and I’m sure she lied for me. I need to understand why.

“Everything okay?” he asks, searching my face.

“Yeah,” I answer. “I was just thinking about Raine.”

His expression shifts into one of concern and the recollection of a hundred buried memories. “I think about him all the time, too.”

“I know.”

He clears his throat. “Ready to get started?”

“Yes,” I answer with a grin. I missed this place. I missed training with the other cadets, and if I survive the mission I’ve been tasked with, it’s still my dream to protect my city and its people. If General Sol gets her way, my role will take on even more importance than I ever dreamed. All I’ve ever truly wanted is to be useful.

Henry gestures for me to take the mat, where he spends the next twenty minutes teaching me some new hand-to-hand combat maneuvers.

“Athira!” he calls. “Come work with Poet, will you? Show her that inside leg kick you taught me last year.”

Rook nods and lopes over, a feral grin spreading across his face. “You think she can handle it?” he asks, folding his arms and scanning me with a heated gaze. I feel that look like a physical touch, making me shiver.

He must notice, because his smile widens. I scowl at him, and he laughs.

“I think with a little practice, she’ll wipe the floor with you,” Henry says. Then he lifts his hand, and Rook slaps it before they do some kind of complicated handshake. “Teach her everything you can,” he says in a low voice meant only for the two of us, and now I’m surer than ever that Henry knows something.

“I intend to,” Rook says.

Then Henry walks away, leaving us relatively alone.

I scoot closer to Rook. “Does he know about you? Who you really are?”

He shrugs and hunches over, holding up a pair of loose fists. “He had a few questions last year when he noticed my fighting skills were more advanced than your typical Amery fledgling.”

“What did you tell him?” I ask as I match his stance, my feet spread, knees soft. “That you’re so good because your father beats the snot out of you as a form of family bonding?”

Rook grins. “Something like that.” Then he charges toward me, wraps his arms around my midsection, and lifts me up before tossing me onto the mat.

I groan as the wind is kicked out of me, and I lie there gasping for breath.

Rook stands over me, a brow arched and his arms folded, forcing me to admire the swell of his biceps. Not that I need much incentive.