SWORD ACADEMY (censored)

“Go deeper,” I smoulder, a guttural sound making Ainsley flinch back.

“So slagging hot,” Maverick tremors, dragging his fisted knuckles to his lips.

Duncan, aka Dunce Munch as Frank calls him, curbs the lingering tension with a hard slap to Maverick’s shoulder. It’s the clear equivalent to an ice cold shower.

“Rude,” Maverick rumbles.

Ainsley’s helping me with stretches before we spar. We’re lucky she joined our station today. She only comes when we’re specifically training her spark control, and anytime else she makes it her mission to go to every station except ours. She’s even been resisting Frank which is breaking his big, beautiful heart.

She’s completely shifted her attention to Beckett. That’s not exactly surprising considering she handles everything absolutely, extremes being the only thing she can navigate with any success.

Duncan is our Luke replacement for the day since his mother hauled him out of training for the afternoon. I’d sort of hoped Ainsley might ask me about his parents, but she didn’t bring it up, seeming rather pleased to not have to deal with him for once.

In my darkest moments, when I’m grieving the life of the child I’ll never carry unless I synergize, I look to Luke’s parents as affirmation why I want that as much as a blowtorch aimed at my pit.

Dericka and Lucius Acair have never loved each other, instead choosing to bind themselves for power because Lucius was the strongest Dark Fire Sheath at the time. As the strongest Dark Fire Wielder, it only made sense for Dericka to merge with him.

They met Synergy as a result of her being throne thirsty, their golden rings proof of their union. But the connection is faulty, driven by obsession where Lucius is a victim of the hold Dericka has over him. Part of me guesses that’s why they were never able to conceive on their own. Luke was adopted to fill the gaping hole left by the chasm of their poor choice.

But when it turned out Luke sparkled, it just further validated their chosen path was bloody blessed. Except, Luke igniting both fire and water sparks threatened her position as Dark Fire Guard, so she messed with his fate by snuffing out his fire spark to eliminate the competition. She went against protocols for that, doing an at-home hibernation instead of a formal Sleep Ceremony.

Did she get in crap for it? Of course not. She used the excuse she was paving a path forward for him and Esha, so Luke never told anyone. I know better. It had nothing to do with Esha and everything to do with her fear Luke might overpower her someday due to the spare spark expanding the well space. While Luke still blames that bit on Esha, it’s the one thing I’m sure she didn’t do to him. That was all his monster mother.

“Let’s rile up my sparks,” Ainsley clips.

“Alright, let’s talk through symptoms this time,” I pop, circling in front of her.

“Giddy-the-heck-up!” she roars.

She mirrors my movements, lightening her steps as we begin our dance. I start by throwing a punch at her face.

She dodges and counters with a kick to my upper thigh. “Razor blades to the lady bits is a new one.”

I brace for the kick so I can land a fist on her chest. “That’s your fire spark. Any razor anywhere will always be your fire spark.”

“Vicious.” She rubs her chest and keeps circling.

“Could also be a UTI,” Aspen vogs.

“You need to pee after the banging you’re not doing,” Duncan squirts.

I smirk when Maverick punches him in the gut.

Ainsley shoots a fist toward my face, thankfully ignoring them. “Goosebumps all over.”

I dodge to the left. “That could be several. What feeling goes with it? Tingle? Tickle?”

She throws another punch, and I dodge that too, but she’s sent a second punch with her weaker hand I can’t avoid. Her fist catches my eye. I shake out the stars from my vision before kicking at her knee.

She jumps to the side to avoid the kick, and I use her previous counter against her, except with my legs and in reverse so the second kick is with my stronger left leg. She swears and hobbles back when it connects. “It’s either a tingle or tickle. How are they different?”

“Does it feel like a feather is running over your skin, or are you standing under an electrical line?” I send a fake punch to her left side. She moves right to avoid it, directly into the line of fire of my left leg. My shin connects hard.

“Feather,” she grunts, stepping back and limping but not yielding.

“That’s air,” Aspen outgasses.

“What’s the electrical line?” She throws a wild punch at my face while simultaneously driving her knee toward my gut.

I opt to block my gut with my forearms and let the wild punch connect. It skids off the side of my face, barely kissing my cheek.

“Also air,” Aspen vents.

“Could be earth too,” Maverick outcrops.

“That’s water,” Duncan splashes. “The retraction of water more specifically.”

In the half second it takes for her to process their conflicting responses, I dive forward, knocking us both to the ground. We wrestle for a minute before I get myself under her. Now she’s screwed. She’s garbage at getting out of anything she can’t face head on. I wrap my arms around her with my forearm pulling against her throat and my legs around her waist, a standard rear naked choke. She’s pinned and tries punching at me, but her arms aren’t long enough to get the leverage they need to do anything effective.

“I yield,” she suppressive fires, volleying a feral groan to ensure I know exactly how she feels about losing to me.

“You’ve got to get better at taking it from behind,” I crackle.

“Are you volunteering your boyfriends to teach me?” she returns fire.

I hiss a laugh and help her off the floor. “We’re sort of a matching set.”

“I can teach you,” Duncan dribbles. “I’ll dredge your well all night long.”

Ainsley doesn’t like that. Good on Dunce Munch for helping her reach maximum overdrive. Her wristband starts roaring its defiance, and I move between them to stop her from shooting him full of salty sauce.

“Where does your joy live?” I ash.

She closes her eyes and grits her teeth. “With my family.”

“What are they to you?” I bubble.

“Adley is my air,” she unholsters. I can tell she’s struggling already. “Asher is my water.”

“You can do this, Ainsley,” I cinder.

“Atlas is my earth,” she locks, the force of her sparks driving her to her knees. “Archie is my fire.”

Her wristband keeps roaring. Maverick, Aspen, and Duncan draw closer to step in and stop this before it turns into a supernova soup sandwich. I hold them off with a lifted hand. If I lower it, they’ll know it’s time to intervene.

“What about your dad?”

“Dad. Is. My. Well.” She shakily loads.

“And your friends?” We’re so close. I hate to stop despite how dangerous it’s becoming.

“My ropes. They’re my ropes pulling the bucket up. You. Frank. Maverick. Aspen. Nick. Elaina. Grady. Fiona. Sunny. Ty. Cam. Witley. Bryson. Charlie…”

“Who’s the bucket, Ainsley?” She’s losing herself, but we’ve never come this close before.

“Bec—”

She misfires, falls to the floor, and starts convulsing.

I lower my hand, and we all drop down to her, reaching for the closest skin contact we can find. Her sparks speed out to those connections in a blast so forceful we’re all thrown back on our pits.

“I’m sorry,” she smokes, getting to her feet in a hurry to come check on us.

I wrap my arms around her and spin her around. I’ve never been so happy to be without our miserable scut captain. Luke never would’ve let us get that far.

“Why are you so freaking happy?” she slamfires.

“You almost did it!” I erupt. “You just need to figure that bloody bucket out.”