Reckless Souls (Saints Academy, #1)(76)

response. Not a single retort to bring him to his knees, because ultimately… he’s fucking right, and I

hate it.

I catch Zen’s eyes widening in surprise, but Professor Riva begins to address the class, and I

force myself to focus on him instead. Not reading any further into the Elites’ facial expressions.

The class stands around him in a makeshift circle, watching as he moves to stand by the weapons.

“Good morning, everyone. We’re going to cut straight to the point this morning, pun intended,” he

adds, pointing to the bottom of one of the daggers, and a resounding groan filters around us at his bad

joke, but he doesn’t seem to mind. “We’ve got a solid two hours to learn and practice how to wield

these daggers. We’ll do some individual training, before moving onto sparring in pairs. So, pay close

attention because I don’t mind sending anyone to the medical center with injuries if they were caused

by not listening,” he advises, and that’s all I need to block the Elites from my mind and focus on the

class.

No one here is injuring me, although I would love to send someone else there. Or a few someones

if I want to get revenge on my attackers.

“This is going to be fun,” Harmonia mutters under her breath, and I nod in agreement.

“Hell yeah,” I whisper back, a gleeful smile touching my lips as Riva continues.

“I’m going to hand out the blades. I want you to get comfortable with their weight. The more you

learn the balance, the better you’ll be able to wield the heavy metal,” he explains, picking up two at a

time and slowly handing them out to everyone. “Any questions?” he adds, extending a dagger to me

and Harmonia at the same time, tips in his hand and handles in our direction, and I shake my head in

response.

No questions, no worries, no uncertainty in my physical ability. I’m here to learn.

I take a small step back, feeling Xander’s eyes on me as I do, but I don’t meet his gaze, my sole

focus is on the blade in my hands. It’s not as heavy as my own, and there’s no intricate carvings or

embellishments, which makes a huge difference to the control I have. Holding my palm out, I play

with the weight of the twelve inch blade in my hand, trying to maintain the balance as I twirl the

handle, before wrapping my fist around the twisted leather.

Making sure I have plenty of space away from my flesh, I swing my hand to the side, letting the

sharp edge cut through the air, and the slight swoosh is like electricity, giving me a zap of excitement

as I do it again. Nothing else around me matters. I don’t care if people are watching me making a fool

of myself, if I’m doing it wrong, or if anyone else is even doing the same as me. Wielding the weapon

is my priority, and getting to explore the motions with it is completely exhilarating. I struggle to swipe

the smile from my face.

I twist the handle in my hand again, but this time, I jab the dagger forward, connecting with thin

air still, but testing how much strength needs to go behind the movement to create enough force to

damage a target.

Time flies as I relax into my movements more and more, finally noticing that everyone else is

doing similar things around me. Some seem to grasp the exercise easier than others, while some can’t

even hold the handle properly. Noobs. I play back and forth with both hands, until Professor Riva

approaches.

“Your form is excellent, Rhea,” Riva says, catching me off guard as he comes into view, but still

maintains his distance for a moment to be sure I don’t swing out and catch him.

“Thanks,” I mumble in response, lowering the dagger to my side as I catch my breath. I hadn’t

even realized I was so worked up. Sweat trickles down my temple, and my tee sticks to me slightly,

but I take it all as a good sign.

“Does it feel different?” he asks, and I frown, brows knitting together as I look up at him inching

closer, clearly seeing the confusion on my face. He doesn’t speak again until we’re side by side, and

even then, it still takes a moment for his cryptic words to sink in. “No one has ever received one from

Pandora’s Box before, not since the original gifts.” I rear my head back, ice coursing through my

veins as I search his gaze, but I have no idea what I expected to see. Betrayal? There are a million

questions running through my mind, desperate to know how the fuck he knows what I got from

Pandora’s Box, but he answers the unspoken question for me without prompting. “Everyone’s gifts

from Pandora’s Box are registered when received, and a record is kept for professors to understand

what we’re working with.”

I wet my lips, uncertainty settling through my bones as I eye him suspiciously. “I don’t really want

to talk about it,” I state, hoping to put a pin in the conversation, and he nods.

“Understandable,” he says, swinging his arms out at his side slightly in an attempt to lower my

guard. “But if you need any guidance, or a safe place to figure it out, I can help.”

I don’t know how to respond to that, but the chance is squashed when an arm lands heavily around