The Veil

Chapter 1 - Scarlet

      Our routine is the same... but we no longer talk. It's almost been a month, and we do everything together. Except talk.
CRACK
    My fingers feel cartilage cracking, reverberating against my fist and Dahlia bows forward, cupping her nose in her hands. 
  Kean is there when I leave my room, he's there on the walk into training. He knows my schedule, even had his changed to match it. 
I lean back on my heels, feeling the tension release with each crack of my neck.
He's with us in the mess hall, when Micah joins us, but Micah's the only one who ever carries a conversation. 
My eyes search for Keans, cadets stand around the pit watching us train, Professor Sindel eyeing the both of us intently. I'm still struggling to remember everyone's names. Dahlia, with her short black hair, the side of her head shaved. I'm surprised that the silver hoop through the middle of her bottom lip hasn't been torn out yet from how hard she trains.
Dahlia swings and my left arm intercepts her jab before her cheek meets the force of my right forearm. She instinctively reaches for her reddened skin and I seize the reprieve, sending my knee up and connecting it with her ribs. 
She bends with the exhale of the air in her lungs and falls to her knees.
"Sorry." I say with a crack of my knuckles. 
     "Yea." She winces, gesturing for me to back off. 
    
Silas lets out a whistle from the edge of the pit, his face scrunched up in reaction. Felix stands beside him with his arms crossed, "I thought you said equals were paired together, Sindel."
"Fuck you, Felix." Dahlia groans out.
"Call it!" Sindel announces. 
     "Yield," Dahlia's response is muffled with her forehead now pressed to the sand of the training pit. 
Offering my hand, she accepts it, gradually attempting to rise.
"I swear, I almost had you," she remarks, wiping sweat from her brow, wincing as her hand grazes her injured nose.
I chuckle, releasing my hair from its confinement with a flick of my wrist, slipping the band onto my wrist.
    Kean's silent support is palpable as he passes by with a brief touch on my shoulder before he trails toward the iron door into the castle.
I nod at Micah, silently indicating Kean's departure.
"See you at dinner?" Dahlia's question catches me off guard. Kean and Micah have been my only company this entire first week here. Settling into our dorms, training, meeting professors and being given tours.

We both climb up the lip of the pit and stand on the field.
"Sure." I feel myself smile.
"After I get Freid to fix my nose, you brute," Dahlia teases, though I can't help but feel a twinge of guilt. "Sorry—" I begin, but Dahlia cuts me off with a shake of her head.
"Stop apologizing; it's fine. I just need to train harder," she reassures me, her determination unwavering. It's admirable really. Despite having never fought a day in my life, all of this seems to come naturally to me. I don't feel guilty for hurting her, I feel guilty for being better.
 
My arms are crossed as I'm sat on one of the benches that curve around the back of the lecture hall, one foot toying with the back of Micah's sweater as he's sat in front of me. His blonde curls cascade, partially obscuring his ears as he leans his chin into one hand, his arm casually propped up on his knee.
The hall holds ten rows of benches, sectioned into 3 parts that cup the edge of the room. The ceiling is intricately designed and I often find myself staring at its divets and swirls. Windows tower along the walls, looking out over the castle gardens.

A cadet rises from his seat, his blue eyes contrasting sharply against his warm brown hair that's pulled back into a bun. With a clearing of his throat, he addresses the room,"Hey everyone! he exclaims, "Since Drayson isn't here yet, maybe we should go around and introduce ourselves. It's been a week since you all arrived." He has to be a second year.
"My name is Jett, I arrived in Atlas last year." He's practically shouting. I observe him closely, noting the subtle tension in his jaw when met with silence from the room.
"Rose!" A small girl trills from the second row, a blush creeping up her cheeks.
"Talia." Another older girl with copper hair replies, her hand slightly raised.
One by one, others follow suit, introducing themselves with varying degrees of confidence. Jett's smile beams with each response, his charm evident as he effortlessly commands the room's attention.
Cadets almost drooling at the sight of him.
My mouth quirks with disgust.