SWORD ACADEMY (censored)

We spend the morning in Sexual Education with Docent LightFire. A little overkill in my opinion since nearly everyone’s having some sort of intimate relationship around here. As the lesson goes on, it becomes clear to me this cautionary tale about safe sex is a direct result of some poor sucker misfiring gloriously.

Apparently, two charges messing about without a wielder there to relieve them of their abundance results in haywire sparks blowing a load neither charge is prepared to receive. Abstinence is best until charges tame their sparks. Just more ways for those squibs to control us.

I look around the room wondering who the ballsy blitzers are. It could’ve been Cam and Witley. They’re pretty cozy. But when my eyes land on Grady’s red as heck face I find my answer.

I glance ahead to Fiona. She moved to the front of the room a few weeks ago, so I can’t see her face to get a read on her. I know she makes Grady’s yowler howl, but Fiona’s been letting Frank sniff her petals for a while. That probably rules her out.

That just leaves Sunny. She’s been seated on Grady’s right side the last few weeks yet is suspiciously back to her old spot in the center of the room today. Coincidence? I think not. She gives nothing away, dutifully carving into her desktop with a sharp knife and not paying one lick of attention to anything happening around her. I’ll have to dig more details out of Grady in our afternoon training to confirm my assumptions.

Grady has become my closest friend, my bestie actually, and while he can never fill the empty space my family’s absence causes, he does a decent job of covering the gaping hole for the most part. He returns my gaze when I look over at him again. His green rings with white and black flecks draw a smile from my lips. The change there is stunning, the brownish-grey shifting to the green of his earth element. He’ll keep the white and black flecks until his Schism Ceremony where he’ll choose between light or dark.

I’m jealous of him. Not because of the banging. Not even because he’s done something amazing that’ll probably take the rest of us months to accomplish. What did he do? Well, he cut the wielders off from his earth spark source for a start. Not only that, he straight up tamed his earth spark in the process. He isn’t even a charge anymore. He’s a full-hilt freaking sheath. That means freedom in a way I’m not sure I’ll ever experience again, hence the jealousy. He doesn’t have to be watched like a hawk anymore. No more babysitting. He can go off campus to visit his mom whenever he likes.

“Where are you going for Free Choice?” I ask him on our way out of the Oculus after lunch. On Thursdays, we get to pick our afternoon sectional.

“Ward I think,” he yips.

“I’ll join you,” I quickfire.

I could’ve guessed since he always chooses that, but I always ask, letting him lead our path. My path wants to trot me right to the Stadium. While my nights have all been relatively uneventful, I’m being careful about too much exposure so as not to ruin the good thing I have going with Luke. Wakeful avoidance is key to the continued success.

Luke and I came to a sort of understanding without ever having vocalized any formal agreement. What happens when we’re sleeping has no impact on what happens when we’re awake and vice versa. We play a little game where he tells me daily the sleep sharing has to stop, yet it never stops. Typically, the day starts with his ‘this was the last trawling time’ and ends with his ‘giddy-the-heck-up then’ when I toss and turn on my own bed until he grows too annoyed to stand it anymore.

The few times I’ve fallen asleep before his invitation I’ve woken up in his bed anyway. He claims my sleepwalking lands me there. I claim his addiction to my water spark results in him carrying me there. We’re at a stalemate. But I like Salty Seabed Luke. White Horse? The jury is still out on that miserable scut.

Grady and I head past the courtyard onto the east path. We always opt for the outdoor walk when we can despite the corridor from the Oculus connecting directly to the Ward.

“So, who was it?” I bump his shoulder.

He snuffs.

“Not Fiona then, obviously,” I accurize.

“Sunny,” he growls.

I cock a brow. “Was it that bad?”

“No, it was really, really fricking hot,” he whines. “Too doggone hot.”

“Oh shoot,” I slamfire.

Sunny has fire and water sparks. Clearly, the former got involved.

“Did she…” I hangfire beside him, turning so I can focus on his full reaction. “Did she burn your bone off?”

He makes a strange face, turns his back to me, peeks into his pants to make sure his yowler and chew toys are still there like he absolutely needs the visual confirmation, and then turns back toward me. “It’s fine. Same as ever.”

“I guess it took a little more than penicillin to clear up that burn, right?” I clip.

He whimpers.

“I mean, good job on your part,” I offer.

“For being the reason we had to sit through that class this morning?” His cheeks flush again as he remembers it.

“No,” I backstop. “Clearly, you satisfied the heck out of her. Not every girl gets to have an explosive release like that.”

He raises a fist to me. I bump it.

“Now that you’ve tamed your earth spark, and have an obviously A bang game, you’ll get your pick of wielders,” I report.

His lips hitch up at the side. “So many holes to dig.”

We enter the Ward to an overly cheerful Orderly greeting us with an enthusiastic wave. I sneer at him and move toward the elevator. I hate how quickly their attitudes toward us changed when our sparks ignited. That same pompous punk barely paid us any kind of attention before we sparkled, so from my perspective he can go on licking his balls. I’ll remove them for him if he won’t.

Game.

Freaking.

Over.

Grady hits the button for the roof which is where we frequently go. It’s the most peaceful place I’ve found at the academy so far. We watch wielders and sheaths work together planting and harvesting in a single event in contained spaces. It’s like watching growth on speed, and it never fails to captivate me.

The Ward Guards assigned to this area are at the far side of the roof hovering around someone I’ve yet to see up here. Their interest interests me. I nudge Grady in that direction.

The person has a shaved head and pale skin like they’ve been kept away from the sun as a punishment. Their eyes whip to me when I kneel down to see what they’re doing. They’re just like Grady’s green rings that denote his earth element with white and black flecks. I reckon they haven’t completed the Schism Ceremony yet. Maybe they’re a sophomore which is why I haven’t seen them around before. They lose interest in my presence quickly enough and go back to work finger poking the soil at their feet.

“Hi,” I say warmly. “I’m Ainsley, she/her. This is my friend Grady, he/him. What’re you planting?”

Grady kneels down on their other side and waits.

“I’m Dustin, he/him. I can’t plant…or grow…I mean I can…” he frets.

The guards step closer. I give them my standard warning glare to back off. They know it well and stop their advance.

“Can I show you? I’d need some earth spark,” he strums. “It’s easier to just show you.”

Grady flings his arm out at Dustin in offering before I can. He isn’t letting a stranger access my spark. I definitely don’t need his protection, but there’s something a little off about the guy, so I let the macho horsecrap slide.

Dustin gently places his hand on Grady’s forearm. Where his finger is in the dirt hole, a vulnerable seedling sprouts from the earth. It becomes a stem which reaches for the sunlight, growing tiny leaves and thorns while a bud develops at the top. For the finale, the bud opens into a beautiful red rose. It all happens in the course of a minute. I reach out to touch the rose, but as Dustin removes his hand from Grady’s forearm, and before my fingers can caress a single petal, the rose turns to dust that falls to the soil below.

I gasp and Dustin frowns.

“I can conjure, but it doesn’t stay,” he picks.

“Why?”

“Because I’m shattered,” he plucks.

As much as I want to push him about what that means, the vulnerability in his eyes stops me from being a squib. He’s soft like Asher, and he needs my compassion, not my curiosity.

“That’s okay,” I holster. “It’s fun making stuff, right?”

He smiles and nods his agreement.

“Let’s have another go at it,” I suggest, “but this time we’ll make it more challenging.”

He capos his brow. “I don’t know…”

The turd danglers step closer again. I flip the squibs off.

I hold out my arm to him, my earth spark ready and waiting at the surface to go gardening. “I want my rose petals to be colourful. All. The. Colours.”

He whammies a laugh, and it’s a little strained but a little hopeful too. He places his hand on my forearm. My earth spark slides into him more gently than I’ve ever felt it reach out to anyone, like it knows that’s what he needs.

He starts the process again from seed to freaking flower, doing just as I asked. When it’s done, each petal is a different colour. I reach forward to touch it. He keeps his hand on my arm this time so I can feel it. “As long as I maintain the connection, it stays,” he riffs.

I run my finger gently along the soft petals before plucking the stem from the ground so I can hold it in my free hand. I just want to touch it, feel the realness of it for a moment longer before it vanishes. I inhale the scent, the sweet perfume settling into my hollowed out heart like fill dirt. I can feel the steady connection of my earth spark with his. The shared moment is calming for us both.

The guards step closer yet again, and Dustin pulls his hand from my forearm. I roar defiantly, frustrated they aren’t letting him prolong this moment clearly bringing him peace. I expect the rainbow rose to disintegrate, but it stays right in my hand.

Before I can question it, chaos explodes like a volatile crap coating a toilet bowl. Dustin is yelling something while the guards haul him away toward the exit. He’s spitting and cursing at them, flailing his arms and legs like a wild thing. It’s as if every bit of his gentleness was sent into the glorious flower in my hand and left a monster in its wake.

Grady headtilts, horror in his eyes. “What the heck just happened?”

“I got a pretty flower,” I dryfire, lifting my hand to run the stem through my ponytail.

“You know that’s not what I meant,” he barks.

“We’ll ask Nick and Elaina at dinner.”