Seraphina
The knife felt heavy in my trembling hands.
I sat by the riverbank in the pale dawn light, my wet hair hanging past my shoulders like dark curtains. The stolen men's clothes Elena had packed for me lay spread on the grass, rough brown wool and leather, nothing like the silk gowns I'd worn my whole life.
"Goodbye, Seraphina," I whispered, and drew the blade across my hair.
Long locks fell into the rushing water, carried away by the current. Each cut felt like shedding pieces of my old life. The girl who'd sat quietly at embroidery lessons. The daughter who'd smiled and curtsied on command. The bride who was supposed to marry Magnus Blackclaw.
That girl was drowning in the Silverrun River.
When I finished, my hair barely brushed my chin. I bound my chest with strips of linen, pulling tight until my feminine curves disappeared. The men's clothes hung loose on my frame, but that would help the disguise.
I stared at my reflection in the water. A young man stared back, pale, sharp-featured, with eyes that had seen too much.
"Seth Thornbrook," I said aloud, testing the name Elena and I had chosen. "My name is Seth Thornbrook."
The sound felt strange on my tongue, but it would have to do.
For three days, I walked the kingdom's roads. I kept to merchant paths and avoided the main highways where Magnus's search parties might patrol. My feet blistered in the borrowed boots, and my stomach gnawed with hunger, but I pressed on.
On the third evening, I reached a roadside inn called the Prancing Pony. Golden light spilled from its windows, and the smell of roasted meat made my mouth water. I'd eaten nothing but wild berries and stream water since fleeing.
"Need a room for the night," I told the innkeeper, deepening my voice. "And whatever food you have."
The man looked me up and down. "You got coin, boy?"
I placed a silver piece on the wooden counter, one of the few Elena had packed for me. "Will this cover it?"
"Aye, that'll do." He pocketed the coin and gestured toward a corner table. "Sit yourself down. Marta will bring you stew."
The inn was crowded with travelers and merchants. I hunched over my bowl, trying to stay invisible. The hot stew tasted like heaven after days of berries and hunger.
I was nearly finished when the door burst open.
Three men in Magnus Blackclaw's colors strutted inside, black leather with silver wolf heads. My blood turned to ice water.
"Evening, all!" the leader called out. He was tall and thin with a weasel face. "We're looking for a runaway. Young woman, dark hair, probably traveling alone."
The innkeeper wiped his hands on his apron. "Ain't seen no lone women, milord. Just the usual merchants and such."
"She might be disguised." Weasel-face scanned the room. "Could be dressed as anything. There's a reward for information."
I kept my head down and continued eating, though the stew now tasted like ash. Under the table, my hands shook so badly I could barely hold the spoon.
"What's this girl done?" asked a merchant at the next table.
"Broke her betrothal to Lord Magnus," one of the other scouts said. "Embarrassed him in front of the High King's messenger. He wants her back."
"Can't say I blame the girl," muttered an old woman by the fire. "Magnus Blackclaw ain't known for his gentle nature."
Weasel-face's expression darkened. "Lord Magnus is a generous master to those who serve him well. And a terrible enemy to those who don't."
His eyes swept the room again, lingering on each face. When his gaze reached me, I forced myself to look up and meet it directly. Running would only draw attention.
"You there, boy." He pointed at me. "Haven't seen you before."
"Just passing through, sir." I kept my voice rough and low. "Heading to the capital for work."
"What kind of work?"
"Apprentice blacksmith, sir. My uncle has a forge there."
It was a good lie, blacksmithing would explain my soft hands and pale skin. Most apprentices started young and stayed indoors. Weasel-face studied me for a long moment. "Stand up."
My heart hammered against my ribs, but I obeyed. The binding around my chest felt tight enough to strangle me.
"Turn around."
I turned slowly, keeping my movements casual. Behind me, I heard him grunt.
"Scrawny little thing, aren't you? Eat more meat, boy. You'll never swing a proper hammer looking like that."
The other scouts laughed. "Come on, Gareth. We're wasting time. The girl's probably miles from here by now."
Weasel-face, Gareth nodded reluctantly. "True enough. But keep your eyes open, all of you. Lord Magnus pays well for good information."
They left as loudly as they'd entered. I sat back down, my legs shaking so badly I could barely stand.
That was too close. Far too close.
I finished my meal quickly and retreated to the tiny room upstairs. As I lay on the lumpy straw mattress, memories flooded back—nights when Elena and I would sneak to the old armory.
"Women belong in silk, not steel," Father always said. "Leave fighting to the men, daughter."
But Elena had different ideas. She'd taught me to use a sword in secret, claiming it was just for fun. "Every person should know how to defend themselves," she'd whispered as we practiced with dulled blades. "Even ladies."
Now I understood she'd been preparing me for this day.
I touched the sword Elena had packed, a light blade perfect for my size. Tomorrow, I would need to be Seth Thornbrook completely. No more Seraphina's fears or doubts.
Two more days of walking brought me to the capital city's outskirts. The Alpha Academy rose before me like a mountain of white stone, its towers reaching toward the clouds. Golden banners fluttered from the walls, bearing the High King's dragon crest.
My palms sweated as I approached the massive iron gates. Real guards stood watch here, not Magnus's thugs, but the King's own soldiers in polished armor.
"State your business," one demanded.
I pulled out Elena's stolen document with hands that barely trembled. "Seth Thornbrook, reporting for training."
The guard examined the papers, then looked me up and down. "You're young."
"Sixteen, sir. Old enough to serve."
He handed back the documents. "Welcome to hell, boy. Try not to die in the first week."
The gates swung open with a groan of metal. Inside, the Academy courtyard buzzed with activity. Young men sparred with wooden swords, ran laps around the training ground, and hauled equipment back and forth.
"Fresh meat!" a cheerful voice called out.
I turned to see a young man about my age jogging over. He was handsome in an obvious way, golden hair, bright smile, muscles that strained his training shirt. Everything about him seemed to shine.
"You must be new," he said, stopping in front of me. "I'm Elias Goldmane. And you look like you need someone to show you around before you get eaten alive."
"Seth Thornbrook," I replied. "And I can take care of myself."
Elias laughed, a warm, infectious sound. "Sure you can, little bird. That's what they all say. Then they end up crying in the latrines when Kieran Stormbane puts them on their backs during combat training."
My heart skipped at the familiar name. "Kieran Stormbane? He's really here?"
"Oh, you know the stories?" Elias grinned wider. "The High King's champion, youngest knight ever to earn his spurs, never lost a battle, blessed by the gods themselves?" He rolled his eyes dramatically. "Don't worry, the reality is much more annoying than the legend."
"You know him?"
"Know him? I have the misfortune of being his best friend." Elias clapped me on the shoulder. "Don't look so starstruck, Seth. Kieran puts his breeches on one leg at a time, same as the rest of us."
Before I could respond, a stern-faced man in Academy robes approached. "New cadet?"
"Yes, sir," I straightened. "Seth Thornbrook, reporting for duty."
The administrator consulted a ledger. "Thornbrook... yes, here you are. You'll be in the north dormitory." He looked up with what might have been sympathy. "You're assigned to share quarters with our top cadet. He'll help you settle in and explain the rules."
My pulse quickened. "And who might that be, sir?"
The administrator's expression grew even more serious. "Kieran Stormbane."