A Court of War and Rage

Chapter One

Rhysand

By the Cauldron, it was cold! The wind cuts through my new, thick training clothes as I follow my mother to the center of the camp. Winged males loom over me, their muscles rippling under their fighting leathers. They cast looks of curiosity and disdain at me, but I admire the powerful wings and glowing Siphons. Illyrian warriors. The best fighters in the whole Night Court. Pride floods through me. One day, I'll be as strong as them.

As we approach the center of the camp, I notice an enclosed ring of wooden fencing. The clatter of wooden blades and shouting boys reaches my ears. My steps slow as we get closer, my heart racing. My mother turns around and beckons me closer, her eyes guarded. "Come, Rhysand." I make myself walk towards the noise, despite my fear.

Several males stand around the outside of the fencing, watching the novices inside. One of them opens the gate. My mother shoves me towards it. I stumble through the opening, and my mother turns her back to me. I force myself not to call after her. A tense silence fills the ring. Several younger Illyrians are in the ring, and their attention is focused entirely on me. Some of them share the bored looks of the older warriors, but some of them gaze at me with malice and eagerness.

The male overseeing the training hands me a wooden practice sword and pushes me towards the center of the ring. Most of the others return to their opponents, effectively ignoring me. "Hey, pretty boy!" The young voice drips with arrogance.

I turn around, and a pair of hazel eyes and a cocky grin are inches from my face. I study the boy's gaunt face and dirty clothes. His wings are tucked neatly behind him. He drops into an offensive stance and lifts his practice blade. As I lift my own blade, I watch the smudged face light up with eagerness. Maybe this boy will be my friend...

With a battle cry, my opponent launches himself forward. I block his first two blows, but the boy moves faster than anything I've ever seen. A sharp blow to my hands causes me to drop the blade with a cry of pain. The boy's face breaks into an even wider smile as he raps me on the knees. "Come on, pretty boy, pick up your sword."

I dodge the next swing of the blade and manage to grip the handle of my blade. I cry out again as pain explodes through my head. Stars swim in my vision as my head makes impact with the hard dirt. The practice blade flies out of my hand. Isn't anyone going to help me?

The boy digs the tip of his blade into my chest, pinning me to the ground. I want to wipe that smirk off his face. "Do you yield?"

I nod my surrender. The boy removes his blade. My vision swims as I clamber to my feet. I make up my mind as the young warrior turns his back to me. "I guess you'll have to try again after you grow up a bit, pretty boy."

I launch myself at him, my fist making contact with the back of his head. The young Illyrian whirls around with surprising speed. His fist connects with my jaw, sending me sprawling back to the ground. I catch myself, but the boy jumps on top of me. His fists rain blows on my body, my face over and over again. The skin on my face splits open, blood dripping into my eyes.

Several voices shout, and the weight on my chest vanishes. A rough hand drags me to my feet. I sway on the spot. "That's enough, both of you! If you're going to fight, use the blades. Both of you, go bend over the bench."

I can barely see where the warrior is pointing. The boy's hazel eyes glower at me as he stomps to the bench and bends over it. I follow him more slowly, trying to keep my balance. I rest my head on my arms, grateful for the solid surface. I hear the sound of the switch cutting through the air a moment before a sharp pain explodes on my backside. Cassian's face screws up in pain as a blow lands on his body. Neither of us cry out.