I hated being brought to life by bells, buzzers, and even music. Always had. Gone to great lengths to avoid them. Perhaps it was due to me not being a morning person—and living in a world full of them.
Of course, I was in another world now. But the alarm indicated there would be frustrating similarities...
Trix merely yawned. I was surprised she’d slept so late. She was usually my living alarm system, awakening before dawn. I guessed being in another realm was screwing up her internal clock.
Or maybe it was the nightly contributions of our roommate that had thrown her off. Despite the air vent, the room had a distinctly off-putting odor. I could only imagine what Trix’s nose made of it all.
Then again, she shoved it into disgusting things on a regular basis.
Mari’s snoring cut off abruptly with the rudely ringing bell, which clanged for far longer than strictly necessary.
“Too loud,” she complained.
I snorted a laugh. The bell was nothing compared to the snoring, but I agreed with her.
“Considering classes don’t officially start right away, they could have granted us a sleep-in day,” I said.
She rolled over, and her bed groaned ominously. These beds were longer than any I’d ever seen, but her feet still dangled over the edge. And I doubted that any memory foam created could stand up for long to that kind of bulk.
“First meal is at 6:30,” she muttered. A large, square, three-fingered hand waved toward her dresser. “Schedule is up there.”
I rose to fetch the thick yellow sheet. I surveyed it with interest as I sat back down on my bed.
A moment later, my eyes were bugging out of my head. Mornings revolved around three sessions—the special abilities class, followed by a group run, and then lessons that changed each day but included fight training, weapons training, and obstacle drills. They could have fit into any army training regime except for the emphasis on swords and crossbows, and the fact that obstacle training was divided intoshiftingandnon-shifting.
After lunch was classroom instruction, featuring everything from “Council Policies and Procedures” to “Cryptid Powers and Their Uses.” At the end of the day there was a final run, except for two nights a week, when there was something labeled “Night Games.” The note beside it stated that they wouldn’t start until we’d been assessed for ability level, which would take place in the first few days.
The note at the bottom stated: “The seventh day is a rest day, but students must conduct their morning run and remain on campus. You are permitted to practice as you wish.”
I swallowed. “Wowsers,” I said. “That’s quite the schedule.” My heart accelerated. This was just what I’d been working toward. The curriculum looked intensive and comprehensive.
Mari rolled upright, and the bedframe creaked and swayed. She rubbed her leathery face. “It is, isn’t it?”
Once again, I sensed the reluctance beneath the words. “You don’t sound very enthused.”
Her orange eyes flashed to mine. “My people don’t believe in violence.”
My eyes widened. While the theory classes were mostly focused on diplomacy, the physical side of it made it clear the council considered our future jobs to be dangerous. I understood it. Even when providing relief services to those in need, CAF personnel needed to be ready to defend themselves and others.
I might respect her views—I wished these jobs weren’t necessary—but this just wasn’t the place for a pacifist.
“Mari,” I said, keeping my voice deliberately easy and calm, “Why are you here?”
She looked away from me. Her entire frame seemed to deflate. After a moment, her shoulders squared up. “I found my proposed mate with another female.” She paused before continuing. “We are raised to control our negative emotions.” Her gaze rotated back to me, and a wealth of pain radiated from them. “But I forgot everything I’d learned. I was soangry.” Her fingers folded into fists.
The ground trembled.
At first, I wasn’t sure what was happening. But Mari pulled her legs up onto the bed, and her eyes widened.
“I’m sorry,” she apologized. “Maybe I shouldn’t talk about this.”
My brain connected the dots. Amadeus had called her a DorinthianShaker. “Are you making the ground shake?”
She nodded.
I swallowed. “So you’re here to learn how to control it?”
“Yes.” She rubbed her eyes. Apparently, red-warty-skinned farting and snoring giants could cry.
