SWORD ACADEMY (censored)

Her red alert flares across my watch screen, the vibrations scuttling my last nerve. All four elements are overflowing again despite her having clearly released something into Frank moments ago. She just keeps standing there like a rip, refusing to turn around while I repeatedly billow her name. I’m grinding my teeth so hard they’re turning to brine in my mouth.

“Don’t do it, Luke,” Frank buzzes.

“Leave it,” Keira pops, trying to anchor me.

But I don’t exactly have a choice in this. I have a duty to protect her, as well as the whole academy, and as their captain, they have a duty to obey commands.

“More help and less insubordination would be ideal,” I spray. “She’s messed up like a soup sandwich again. This is all hands on deck.”

I scud forward, grab her arm, and swirl her around to face me. Where my hand touches her arm, my water spark cuts into her. There’s nothing clean about the cut. She’s been shredded open. That’s going to sting like a jellyfish. Every drop I take will rub against the opening, ripping through her in torrents. Better to hurt her than see her die.

I find her water pooling just beneath the surface. It’s right there waiting for me. I barely tap into it, and the swell tears its way into me like a dam breaking, splitting the cut I made much wider. I shiver at the intensity of flow, tightening my grip on her arm to keep me anchored. I know her resistance is hurting like heck. I can see it in the draw of her brow, but she’s so darn stubborn she won’t even allow herself to cry out.

My only intention is to take enough water spark to shut the alarm up. I won’t drain her to dregs, but Keira backdrafts my stern all the same, slamming me forcefully away like I’m some sparkophile Ainsley needs protection from.

“Where does your joy live?” Keira ashes, pulling Ainsley into a hug that’s not reciprocated. I’ve never seen her act like that with anyone. It stops me from advancing again.

My watch alarm stops swashing, and I look at it in confusion. I only drained water from Ainsley. I’m sure of that. Collecting a foreign spark feels like needing to take a giant dump, the kind of thing one tends to notice. Even if by some tiny chance she managed to rein her sparks in, she’d still have the overflow to deal with. It wouldn’t just vanish.

“Please let me go. If you don’t...” Ainsley hangfires. Is that sadness in her voice? Sadness I put there by taking something she never wanted to give me? My shoulders sag the tiniest bit, until she opens her smart mouth again. “I’m gunna freaking gut him.”

Keira keeps hold of her, and I straighten my back, ready for her to start shooting her sauce more up close and personal. She won’t see I helped her. She won’t thank me. No, that’s too normal a response for someone who just saved her life. She’ll keelhaul me for it.

When Keira relents, Ainsley tears around her, getting up in my face and jamming her index finger in my chest. I lean right into it.

“Don’t ever touch me again without my consent,” she backstops.

“You’re welcome,” I splash.

She cocks a brow. “You think I should thank you, White Horse?”

“I kinda do actually, yeah,” I spume.

She volleys a feral groan. I’m honestly not sure what she’ll do next. She might roar some more. Make some idle threats. Most likely, she’ll punch me in the rudder or kick me in the propellers. Maybe both in quick succession. I just wait, because if she physically lashes out, and I really, really hope she does, I’ll put her on her butt.

She rolls her shoulders and steps back. Then the fire that lit in her eyes the very first time she roared at me, and has blazed on each moment since, dies out, leaving only embers in its wake. “Thank you, Luke.”

Those are the exact words I wanted to hear, but they’re hollow. My name on her lips sounds wrong. I stand staring at her like a gaping vortex for the full minute it takes me to catch onto what’s happened. She hasn’t conceded. She’s decided something about me, and that something is far, far worse than I ever could’ve imagined. She doesn’t care about me at all.

She clicks her tongue. “Can I go now?”

I want to tell her no. To demand she stay right here with me. Fight me. Swear at me. Beat me to a bloody pulp. Anything to keep her with me because I’m scared the instant she walks away I’ll never feel the warmth of her fire again. I deepwater a nervous lump down my throat while she waits expectantly for me to answer. I can’t bring any words to my lips, so I just nod instead, shell shocked by her indifference.

But, of course, the shock is short-lasted, swept away by the force of Hurricane Ainsley when she trots her beautiful darn butt right over to the absolutely worst station she could’ve in the whole arena.

“I swear to light, if that barnacle touches her…” I ripple.

Callen’s a Water Ward Healer who graduated secondary two years ago. He’s too trawling old to be spending so much time at the Stadium with charges. His circuit is the Healing Sect, but he has no Docent inclination. He just hangs around stealing scraps and taking advantage of whoever will let him. Admission into his group will come with a price Ainsley’s already made it abundantly clear she isn’t willing to pay. She’ll have to give him a shot of her water spark for entry.

“She won’t do it, Boss,” Aspen vogs. “Just chill out.”

“She can spark share with whoever she wants,” Keira spews.

“Not that barnacle,” I seiche.

“She needs to get it out, Luke,” Maverick rumbles, trying to placate me. “Does it really matter if it’s him or someone else?”

“She’s not going to—” Aspen tries again, but he hasn’t even gotten the words out when it happens. Ainsley places her hand on Callen’s cheek. His scum-sucking grin follows. For a brief second, I think she might look over at us, that she’s done it purely for spite. I’d settle for that. But does she look at us? Yeah, no. Instead, she freely gives him the one thing I want more than anything for her to freely give me.

“No trawling way!” I billow, turning to the wall and punching the concrete.

“Luke!” Keira grabs me before I can punch it a second time. “What’s your bloody problem right now? Please talk to us.”

“She pitched a royal fit about being our battery, fought for training and won. Now she’s scudded off over there and just handed her water spark to him like…like…” I can’t even bring myself to finish my train of thought. Ainsley’s fire might’ve died for me, but my water is boiling enough to heat the both of us now.

“Well, you got your fix from her,” she crackles, “so get over it.”

“Not him,” I whirlpool.

“It’s her spark!” Keira erupts. “She can hand it out to whoever she wants.”

“He’s an old as dirt pervert.”

“He’s only twenty-nine,” she bubbles.

“Fine,” I scupper, “but he’s still a pervert.”

“Agree on the pervert bit,” Maverick slags.

“Is this about Ainsley and Callen, or is it about Esha and Callen?” Keira cinders.

I grunt my frustration. “It’s not about Callen. Not really.”

Aspen’s brow whizzes up. “Are we having an Esha re-enactment here, Boss?”

There’s some bad blood between Callen and I, thanks to Esha, but this scuttlefest with Ainsley is more than hormonal jealousy. It’s envy. She’s everything I secretly want to be. All the things I wish to see in myself. Things I can never openly admit or act on because of how duty bound I am to my future. She has no filter and gives exactly zero apologies for it. I’m awed by her. Infuriated by her. Envious as heck of her.

“You clearly have a type,” Maverick outcrops.

Frank guffaws. “He likes them cranktastic.”

Esha and I spent more time fighting than getting along, but I’m not sinking into old habits with Ainsley.

I shoal my brow. “She’s nothing like Esha.”

Esha’s an angry scut when people don’t do what she wants. She only ever thinks about herself. Ainsley gets angry for being told what to do, for people taking her choices away or taking them away from others. The reasons for their anger couldn’t be more different.

“No, she’s really, really not like Esha.” Keira comes to stand beside me and stare over at Ainsley in solidarity. She isn’t being judgmental about it. She’s just supporting me.

“What’s the plan, Boss?” Aspen whooshes.

“The plan’s to not die,” I swell.

His eyes widen hopefully. “You still think you can turn her around?”

I ebb a sigh. “I thought we were dealing with a rip tide. That would’ve sucked, but at least it would’ve been predictable. As it turns out, this chaos storm is one-hundred-percent rip current.”

“Crap,” he vents, moving to stand beside me and stare after her too.

“Hurricane Ainsley,” I groan.

“Hurricane Ainsley,” they all agree.