Faith and Moonlight Page 5

  “You’ll make it, Kay,” he said.

  “Thank you, Erik, but you don’t know that.”

  Erik grinned. “Sure I do,” he said, his words putting her at ease. “I meant what I said to you on your first day. You’ve got me. I won’t let you fail.”

  Kay felt her cheeks flush red and she smiled. “Then you’ll be my partner on the Rose tomorrow?”

  Putting up a hand, Erik shook his head, laughing. “Woah, woah. I’m loyal but I’m not crazy.” As she laughed, he rose, grabbed their practice swords, and offered Kay a hilt.

  Kay took the sword and gave a deep, exaggerated bow, her spirits buoyed by Erik’s unflagging optimism. Erik, Roan, Lillarn, and Sabine. There were so many people helping her. The thought of disappointing them hurt almost more than the idea of not being able to stay. They all believed in her. The least she could do was believe in herself.

  She would make it. She would stay. This was her home.

  Kay repeated it over and over as they sparred, but in the depths of her mind, doubt stuck like a thorn.

  Roan

  The clash and rattle of training swords had become a constant rhythm to Roan over the past two weeks. The sound was the melody over the throbbing rhythm of power he felt waiting on the other side of the veil.

  That melody never seemed more discordant than it did when Kay practiced.

  Roan sat on one of the benches in the Hourglass, watching her sparring with Erik. As the two of them moved across the pristine white sand, he saw a dozen ways that Erik left himself open, a dozen opportunities for Kay to shift in, close the distance, strike, and land a hit.

  She did not notice any. Instead, when Erik launched an attack, Kay reacted too aggressively, trying to beat his blade away where a simple parry would have served. The exertion pushed her out of alignment and she crossed her feet, tripping.

  As Kay fell, Roan almost sprinted down to help, but caught himself before the first step. Instead, he slowly sat as Erik Saer helped Kay to her feet.

  Watching this day after day was an exercise in frustration. It ate at him that he could not help her, but every time he tried, their cumulative frustration only made things worse. It came so easily to Roan that he struggled explain anything. Finally, Roan had ceded Kay’s training to Erik and Sabine, hoping they could do what he could not.

  The lessons had improved. Sabine was talented and inspiring, and Erik was patient and willing to explain. Kay responded well to that approach. More than that, she seemed to be responding to Erik. Roan had noticed the two had grown closer as he and Kay drifted further apart, but Roan quickly silenced any thoughts of jealousy.

  The situation was too dire for such things.

  Sabine’s skill. Erik’s patience, none of it mattered, because Kay was no closer to piercing the veil than when she first entered Faith. Her time ran shorter with every day of failure.

  Two weeks. That was all she had left. Half their time was gone.

  Roan gritted his teeth as Kay swung her blade.

  “I thought I would find you here.”

  The close voice shocked Roan, having been so focused on Kay he had not heard Gideon approach. Roan did not turn to acknowledge the young man. “Running an errand for a preceptor?” Roan asked.

  “No. I am here on my own errand.”

  “And what errand is that?”

  “I’d like you to come with me to the statue of Baheyer,” Gideon responded. Before Roan could reply, Gideon gestured with his chin toward the two combatants below. “I will not take much of your time, and she will still be here when you return.”

  Roan expected a sharp barb at Kay’s expense, but there was none. Instead, Gideon simply stared. “Come on,” Gideon said.

  The sound of a blade spinning through the air and landing in the sand carried up to Roan. He sighed. Perhaps stepping away would do him good. “Very well,” Roan said. He followed Gideon out of the Hourglass.

  Outside, the air had grown cooler in the last few weeks. Fallen leaves lining the grounds blew about their feet as they walked. Neither spoke as Gideon led the way toward the Reliquary. Most students were hard at training. Roan did not bother to ask Gideon why he wasn’t. It had become clear Gideon and the rest of the so-called Royals enjoyed a degree of independence other students did not.

  Gideon pushed open the Reliquary’s heavy doors and, almost immediately, the air seemed alive with power.

  Most of the day, Roan worked hard to keep his newfound power firmly on the other side of the veil. It was easier for Kay that way. This was the first time since piercing the veil that he stood before Baheyer’s statue. Now, it was almost impossible to keep the surging force locked away. Roan felt it in his fingertips and at the ends of his eyelashes, akin to the feeling before a summer storm brought lightning down upon the mountainside.

  Gideon stood to the side and slowly crossed his arms over his chest. “Test the edge,” he said simply. “Let the blade draw your blood.”

  “What?” Roan asked incredulously.

  “Let Baheyer’s blade know you. Let it taste your blood.”

  Gideon strode forward and extended his hand. As he moved it along the blade, Roan watched a drop of blood well from a cut. As the blood rolled down the blade, the surrounding air seemed to hum and pulse. Gideon turned toward Roan and waited.

  Roan stared and Gideon stared back, unmoving in his resolve. Roan looked to the massive blade, five times his own height. His eyes roamed the surface, taking in every pit and jagged burr. Baheyer had been Roan’s favorite in the old stories. Those stories formed him, shaped him. With a hesitant hand, Roan reached toward the blade and then with a final decisive act, he put his hand upon the blade’s surface and felt the edge pierce his skin.

  The steel rang like a bell, clear and loud. Roan felt it in his teeth and his chest, where it bounced off his heart. The power stole his breath as it surged. Then, just as suddenly as it had come, the power went silent.

  Roan fell to his knees. He looked up in confusion to see Gideon smiling and offering a hand. Slowly, Roan rose.

  “It is a rare gift,” Gideon said. “There are few, very few, of us who can evoke a response like that. I am one. Preceptor Pamalia can. The past champions who took the Grand Tournament for Faith have all been able to do it.”

  Saying nothing, Roan stared at the legendary blade.

  Slowly, Gideon spoke. “People on the outside, even some of the students here, they do not understand the importance of the Tournament. For them, it is a diversion. An amusement. An opportunity to make wagers and see their generation’s finest Razors compete.”

  “Then what is it to you?” Roan asked.

  “Destiny,” Gideon said. “It is everything. The champion of the Tournament is made an Ascended. They are elevated to a level of peership with the king himself. They become legends, immortalized like the First Ascended.” He shook his head. “There are no more Ruins walking the world, Roan. No more monsters. No more wars, either, now that the kingdom is united. The Grand Tournament is our chance to grasp glory we will never again encounter.”

  Gideon took a deep breath before continuing. “I needed you to understand this, Roan. To understand how gifted you are. The path to the Tournament is difficult. Before the competition itself begins, each of the participant’s schools and classes are ranked for seeding.” His eyes gleamed. “Two of our talent in one class would put Faith in a position of incredible advantage.”

  “You’re talking about competing in the Tournament? Isn’t that only for Provosts? You have to be twenty summers to even enter.” Roan laughed. “That’s six years away. That is an eternity.”

  “That is a heartbeat,” Gideon said. “Six years is the blink of eye, and in that blink, there is a lifetime of purpose to fit. Dedication and focus, or failure. The tension between those things is what fills every breath of every moment.” Gideon took another deep breath. “That is what it means to truly be a Razor, Roan.”

  At that passionate response, Roan nodded. For Gideon, and
for all the students at Faith, there was dedication Roan had not seen. He had been too focused on Kay to see much of anything.

  “She isn’t going to make it, Roan.” Gideon said. “I’m sorry, but it takes much more than just desire. The Razor’s path is not for everyone.”

  Anger bubbled inside Roan. “Not for everybody, unless they have a noble birth and the resources of a rich family to get the tutors and training.”

  Gideon shook his head. “You think I’m nobility because I lead the Royals? My father was a blacksmith. A mediocre craftsman, but an accomplished drinker. He used to spend more time beating me than he did beating anything at the forge. The entire village was terrified of him. The day I pierced the veil is the day I made sure he never hurt anyone ever again.”

  Gideon looked up at the statue’s face. “That is what you don’t get, Roan. What you can do, what you can become, because of this place.” His voice grew low and intense. “I don’t know about you, but I know where I came from. And I am never, never going back.”

  Roan was speechless. He felt the pull of it. The desire for it. The chance to make a life for himself beyond what he had even allowed himself to dream of. There was so much about Gideon’s story that seemed a mirror to his own life. Until he had met Kay and the other orphans and been welcomed into their makeshift family. They had given him a real life when everything else had been lost to him.

  And in the end, that was all that mattered. There was no life for Roan if Kay could not be part of it.

  “I can’t stay here,” Roan said, nearly choking on the words. “Not without Kay. If she doesn’t make it here, she will have nowhere to go. There is nothing left for her.”

  “Sometimes having nothing is what it take to rise.”

  “And what if she can’t? What if it breaks her instead?”

  “Then it breaks her,” Gideon said, his words echoing about the space.

  “I won’t let that happen,” Roan said, then turned and walked away from Gideon and Great Baheyer.

  As Roan exited, he heard Gideon’s parting words. “Why don’t you understand? You don’t have a choice.”

  Kay

  During her first days at Faith, the morning could not come soon enough for Kay. Each day had been alive with wonder and possibility, but that had been over three weeks ago. Now, every morning, Kay woke to frantic, grinding despair.

  At first, it seemed she and Roan had found a place they belonged, a true home. Now, under the weight her continual failures, there was only uncertainty and fear.

  She focused on Roan across the dueling ring. He had done this a hundred times already, trying to guide her. “Kay, focus. You’re gripping too tightly. You want to—”

  Kay cut him off with a wild swing, the blade whistling through the air. He took a nonchalant step backward, avoiding the strike. The swing threw her off balance and she fell.

  “Relax,” Roan finished with a frown.

  Kay scrambled up, but her feet slid on the dirt floor, robbing her grace. She launched herself at Roan. This time, he blocked with the flat of his blade. She swung again and again, chopping through the air, but he deflected her easily, never attempting an attack.

  Kay gritted her teeth. “Fight back,” she hissed.

  Roan continued to block her wild swings.

  “Fight back!” she yelled before charging. Roan sidestepped and Kay tumbled by. Back on the ground, her chest heaved as she fought for air. “Why won’t you fight back?” she snapped. “How am I going to learn how to do this if you won’t help me?” Kay immediately regretted the words.

  Roan dropped his sword as a weighty frown formed on his face. There was an expression on his face of such profound sadness it stabbed at Kay’s heart. “I’m—I’m sorry,” he said, shaking his head.

  The defeat in his words brought tears to Kay’s eyes.

  Roan offered a hand, but Kay shook her head. “Just leave me alone,” she muttered.

  From the corner of her eye, she saw Roan’s hand fall back to his side.

  Kay drew a deep, shuddering breath. “I’m sorry, Roan. It’s not your fault. It’s just—” her voice cracked, and she fought hard to exert control. “Preceptor Vullohn was pretty tough on me today. Just… I’ll be okay. Just give me a few minutes, alright?”

  Roan took a long moment before acquiescing. “Okay,” he said, retrieving his practice sword and heading out.

  As soon as he was gone, Kay shattered. Balling her fists, she pounded them continually against the dirt as her body was wracked with sobs.

  She had tried everything. She had made promises, sworn oaths, recited prayers, and sat vigils. She had spent half her nights reading of past Razors and the other half fighting at Ascension with Razors-to-be. She had tried peace, harmony, passion, and rage. All of it, every single thing she had done, had brought the same result.

  Nothing.

  As she sat on the dirt floor, eyes burning with tears, Kay finally began to accept what she had been denying so vehemently over the last few weeks. She couldn’t do it. She could not pierce the veil. There were a few days left, but it did not matter. A week, or a month, or a year, she could not do it.

  She realized in that moment that she had committed an unforgivable sin. Orphans were not supposed to hope. To dream. They had little, but that had always been enough because it had to be. But she had made the mistake. She had wanted something, and now she would pay the consequences. But not her alone.

  She was failing. But worse, she knew her failure would doom Roan as well. Just the thought made her moan out loud through her tears. With utter certainty, she knew that when she failed, he would leave with her. And it was that thought, more than anything else, which made her failure so unbearable.

  Kay rose slowly, drying her eyes as she returned her practice sword to the rack. She left the building, crossing the grounds to the main hall.

  She mounted the stairs to one of the main towers, climbing until her legs burned. At the highest point, she exited onto the tower platform.

  Roan was sitting on the edge of the stone platform, as she had known he would be. Beyond him, she saw the entire district, proud buildings and defining statues rising high in the distance. All were draped in the orange light of the setting sun.

  “It’s so beautiful here,” Kay said softly as she sat beside Roan, letting her legs dangle off the side. She rested her head on his shoulder. “I’m not going to make it, am I?” she asked. As soon as the words were out, she felt the tears.

  “There are a lot of beautiful places in the kingdom,” Roan whispered.

  The tears rolled down her cheeks. “Not like this,” she said.

  Roan’s arm wrapped around her, supporting her as she cried. “There’s still time,” he said.

  Kay shook her head and looked him in the face as she drew a deep steadying breath. “It’s okay,” she said while tightly gripping his hand. “Listen, Roan. You have to promise me something. When my time is up and I don’t make it, you have to stay here.”

  He was shaking his head before the words were fully spoken. “You can still make it,” he said.

  Kay squeezed his hand and repeated her words. “When I don’t make it, you have to promise me.”

  “There’s still a few days—”

  “Stop,” she snapped. “Stop it.” She nodded slowly. “After all the stories we heard growing up from Elinor in the orphanage. After all the dreaming, after everything, this was never meant to be for me.” Kay tried to meet his eyes, but Roan evaded her. “I have to accept that. But you, you finally have something truly special. I know you have been hiding what you can really do. I know. Everyone knows. You’ve got something special and this place,” she said, gesturing at the expanse before them, “Faith is your home. This is where you belong. You know that. If I cost you that, I would never be able to forgive myself.” Kay looked to pained face. “So promise me, okay?”

  Roan looked before shaking his head sharply, almost violently. “No.”

  “Roan.”

/>   “No.”

  “Roan!”

  “No!” he roared as he jumped to his feet. After pacing across the flat, he turned to her. Fierce devotion was written across his body: set shoulders, rigid arms, and solid stance. “I came here for you. To repay you and the others. To help you. To give you what you gave me, years ago when you all took me in: a new life.” Roan shook his head. “It’s not you that’s failed, Kay. It’s me. I’m sorry. I wish I could change things, but I can’t.” He closed his eyes and clenched his fists. “I wish I could give you what I have, but I can’t.” When he opened his eyes, they were wet with tears. “But I will not,” he said, the last word nearly shouted. “I will not stay here knowing you cannot. And I will never accept a place that does not accept you. Never.”

  Kay jumped to her feet and embraced him. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

  They sat down, holding each other.

  They held each other as the bells tolled the end of the day, while underclassmen flooded into the district to construct Ascension against the backdrop of the setting sun. For the first time since they arrived, neither Kay nor Roan made a move to go join the night battles.

  As they sat together, watching the fights below, Kay felt the knot in her stomach begin to clear. She knew without a doubt what she had to do.

  Before her time was up, she had to leave Faith and Roan behind.

  Preceptor Pamalia would help her; she would convince Roan to stay. When the preceptor did, Kay would need to be gone already. She knew that much.

  This life wasn’t meant for her, but it was for Roan. This was where he belonged. And even without him by her side, she knew she would be happy knowing he was here.

  Kay smiled and, for the first time in weeks, her heart was light. She held Roan tightly as they watched distant duels late into the night.

  Kay

  Each step to Preceptor Pamalia’s office was harder than the one before, but Kay refused to stop. She moved slow, taking a final walk through the grounds. Here and there, she passed students hurrying to lessons, beautiful in their black uniforms and bright white capes.