Daughter of Nox

Chapter Three

The door slid open, and Freya let out a short bark of surprise as she nearly rammed face first into black haired stranger on the other side of the door.

"Oh," Freya took a short step back. "Sorry. I didn't realize my father was with anyone."

"I was just on my way out, Mistress Airm." The man showed her a roguish smirk as he stepped aside, gesturing her past with a sweep of his hand and a bow of his head. "After you."

"Thank you," Freya said, and snatched a quick glance at the man as she passed.

His eyes were dark enough that they might have been black, but there seemed to be a spark within them. His skin had the sun-starved paleness of a native Noxian. He wore his dark hair swept back from a deep widow's peak, though a few loose strands had escaped to dangle over his brow and a day's worth of black stubble darkened his chin and cheeks He wore the blood red dress uniform of a high ranking Commander in the Ministry's military forces, though Freya thought he looked barely old enough to have graduated from Academy.

Hardly the way an officer should look, Freya thought. She wouldn't have been surprised if Father had just finished flaming him for his shoddy appearance.

"Think about what I've said, First Marshall," the man said as Freya and Etta passed him. "This war will never come to an end so long as the powers that be in the Ministry continue ordering attacks on people in the Rim."

"As I said, I'll consider it, Xavier," Father said without looking up from the datapad in his hands.

"This isn't something that can–"

Freya's father cut over him. "I'll consider it." His eyes were hard as they flicked up from the datapad to settle on the man. "I'll be in touch when I've made my decision."

Freya looked over her shoulder. Xavier hesitated at the door, his jaw tight, but rather than say anything more, the man spun on his heel and left, the door swooshing shut in his wake.

Freya looked toward Etta and found her own confusion mirrored on her Second's face.

Father spoke up from behind his desk. "Do you plan on just standing there, or are you going to present yourself for inspection?"

Freya felt herself bristle at the rebuke, but she held her tongue. She turned from Etta, crossed the distance from the door to the space in front of his desk, and snapped to a position of attention. Etta followed suit, standing behind, and to Freya's left.

"Reporting as ordered, sir."

A thick moment of silence passed before he spoke. "At ease," he said finally, eyes still on the datapad in his hands. The medals pinned over his heart gleamed like jewels. "You're late."

Freya took a wider stance and clasped her hands at the small of her back. "I know. I'm sorry."

His dark eyes met hers. "Explain."

Freya swallowed a lump in her throat. "We were in the sims, sir. I lost track of time."

His eyes moved to Etta. "Is this true, Arthuretta?"

Freya resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Father always used Etta's full name, more than Etta's own parents did.

"It's the truth, sir. We were dogging it out and forgot about the clock." She yanked a thumb back to the door. "I can get the cruiser's flight log if you want to check."

He shook his head. "Unnecessary." He paused, raising a thick black eyebrow. "Unless you two already forgot the last time you skipped lessons."

Freya felt her face flush. A few weeks ago, they'd skipped out on a tutoring session to fly into the capital district. If Etta's Father hadn't checked the flight log on her cruiser they would have gotten away with it.