Xander
He was leaning against a wooden post near Galan on the training grounds, just as the soldiers arrived for their daily drills. His gaze drifted over the soldiers, one by one; some he knew well, some simply by name, but his gaze was drawn to the long red hair braided securely down her back. Sylvia Aeraviel. The most rebellious, foul-mouthed female he's ever met, even more so than Megan. Despite her extraordinary beauty, those green eyes, luscious lips, sharp nose, and sun-kissed skin. Everything about her exuded primordial lust and innocence. She was the type of female that had monarchs and rulers bend before her, asking for her attention, but it was all a ruse. He was fully aware of how dangerous she was and how the tempting aroma of vanilla and almonds served as a honeyed trap. He'd known about her for years, about her power, rage, and the smile she wears when she kills, but he misjudged her true strength of will. He should have killed her, as his court had instructed; it would have saved him the headache, and he may still have done it, but for some reason, he found it more difficult than usual. Part of him did not want to kill her. Even when she disrespected and undermined him, he did not wish to kill her. He saw a real smile on her face as she looked at Emile Hill. He knew the threat to the male's life would work on her because she always had the same smile when she looked at Jasper. Whether it was love or admiration, her affection for the male was palpable, but he knew Elion Waesro was his companion. Mario Waesro had expressed his disapproval with his son's partner more times than Xander could count, but it was not his place to intervene.
"She's been quite underwhelming thus far." Galan drawled beside him, directing his attention to the commander.
"I've been told she won her fights in record time yesterday." Xander continued, and Galan grunted.
"She refuses to follow orders. Not to mention that." Galan pointed to the shirt tucked into her waistline, and Xander had to conceal a smile. That's a true rebel.
"Give her a challenge today; I'd like to see what she does with it." Xander ordered, pushing himself off the post as the troops passed by on their way to the ring. Sylvia's eyes met Xander's for a brief moment, and he swore he saw fury in those green gems, but there was something more, something he couldn't quite place. His attention wandered to the cut on her thigh, which he assumed had healed by now, prompting him to bristle inside. He lost his temper this morning and regretted it after smelling her blood, but it was necessary.
"Sylvia, you're up first." Galan issued the order, and Xander followed him to the edge of the ring. She scrunched her nose at her commander before jumping over the wooden fence. "You wanted a challenge, so I've decided to give it to you." Her lips curled up in a lupine grin, and Xander found himself admiring it despite his deepest reservations. She irritated him in more ways than one, but Gods, that mouth tormented him the entire time he was in the Strattham Mountains. Even Usunaar complimented her bravery as they waited for the others to join them in the vault. She was able to locate and acquire the damn horn for Cernunnos' sake. They have failed to find it for ages, yet it took her a few days. Only two relics remained, which is one of the reasons he chose to keep her alive. If she could discover the horn, she might be able to help locate the others.
"Are you finally joining me, Galan?" Sylvia purred, grinning maliciously, and Galan bristled. Galan has always been a dick, yet he was a capable leader. His squad consistently outperformed the rest, and after weeding out the weak, only the best remained. Which is why he assigned Sylvia to him; he wanted to test how the female would handle the challenge.
"You have to earn that right, pup." Galan drawled as he searched the packed grounds for his chosen challenger. The male's lip twisted slightly as he focused on a young male a few strides behind Xander. Xander took a brief glimpse over his shoulder, noticing the young man's short, cropped blond hair, which was tinged with pale blue at the tips and faded down the sides. The young male's deep brown eyes appeared practically dark in the morning sun as he sharpened a blade on his lap. Marcus Dixon. One of Galan's chiefs. "Marcus." Galan shouted over the commands being issued around the grounds, and the young male promptly stood at attention. Marcus is a good soldier who is obedient, if not a bit boringly so sometimes. "Into the ring." Marcus nodded and began jogging towards the ring, effortlessly vaulting the fence before taking in Sylvia across from him. Her gaze focused on the male, and a grin tugged at her lips. Has she met him yet?
"I remember you." Sylvia mused, crossing her arms over her chest, causing her breasts to strain against the fabric. Xander averted his sight, hating himself for the effect it had on him. "It's nice to put a name to a face." She added, and Marcus bowed slightly.
"It's a pleasure to meet the great Red Bandit." Marcus cooed and smiled from ear to ear.
"Whenever you're ready." Galan gave the order from beside the ring, his foot resting on one of the fence's crossbars.
"Kick his ass, Sylvia!" Keya offered encouragement from beside the ring. Has she made a friend? Xander paid great attention to the young female, who was preparing to make her first shift. He still remembers her parents. Her father was seriously injured during the previous human insurrection; thus, they were unable to rejoin the army. Chet Fendove was a good soldier, as was his mate Sofia. Xander has known them since they mated. During the previous conflict, one of the eagle shifters made the catastrophic error of taking a palladium sword into the battlefield. When the eagle shifter was cornered, a blade pierced his heart and removed his skull. Fae were immortal in many ways, but losing one's head is a surefire way to die. Chet arrived to assist the eagle shifter after one of the humans picked up the black blade. Chet won the battle but lost his arm in the process. Palladium acts like a poison, searing into the nerves, skin, muscles, and bones. Cuts may heal over time, but a severed limb with the dark sword was permanent. If it had been a conventional steel blade, they could have reattached the arm and let it heal naturally, but the palladium burnt the wound irrevocably. Xander asked Sofia to stay in the army, but she declined; she would rather retire with her husband and assist him. He kept checking in on them every few years, which is how he first learned about Keya. She was barely 30 and could shoot a bow better than his own commander. Amara's bow skills were impressive, but with appropriate training, Keya could easily outperform her. That's why Xander granted her a position in the army as a prodigy, leaving a lasting legacy. If he recalls correctly, her 40th birthday is tomorrow. Two days before the summer solstice.
Xander aspired to be different from his predecessors. Unlike his predecessors, who ceased paying troops who left their army and showed little regard for their well-being, Xander continues to give the Fendoves a monthly income, even if it is less than they received when serving in the military. He wanted people to feel happy and comfortable in the city. It's also why he purchased the Deathclaw and gave it to his warriors for free; in a life where death awaits them every day, they deserve a place to unwind.
"Stop circling!" Galan instructed, and Xander averted his sight from the young female to see Sylvia and Marcus beaming at each other, still assessing their opponent. Marcus was the first to act, closing the gap between them and feinting a right hook, but Sylvia was ready, disregarding the fake blow and easily blocking the left. Then she attacked, pouring her weight into a right punch that was blocked before slamming her leg into Marcus' knee, causing him to buckle. She moved so effortlessly, each stride deliberate and flawless. Each punch was premeditated, with the next round of blows fully prepared. She resembled a dancer ready for a great show. She appeared weightless, as if nothing grounded her, as if she were walking on clouds and stars. Marcus kept up with her at first, blocking and evading, but her motions became increasingly erratic and aggressive. She let a blow hit her, giving her a better chance to retaliate. Marcus quickly became solely defensive. Trying to avoid one hit, only to be met with another. Sweat coated his brow, and faint bruises appeared on his jaw, mimicking those on Sylvia. She did not even try to block Marcus' uppercut, the blow causing her bottom lip to split, yet she smiled. Before Marcus could reset, she was on him. One kick to the male's gut knocked him over, but he was up again a heartbeat later. A blow like that must have knocked the air from his lungs. She didn't wait for him to recover before grasping his arm and throwing her leg over his shoulder. With a twist of her body, she threw them both to the ground, her legs resting over his neck and his arm extended behind his back. Marcus groaned as she clamped her thighs together, shutting off the male's airway. Xander heard the sound of the shoulder dislocating. Knocking out your opponent was a definite way to win the challenge, but Marcus patted her thigh, and she let go right away. As she stood up, she wore a savage grin and brushed the dirt off her breast and slacks.
"I yield." Marcus whispered between coughs before pushing himself up onto his knees and gripping his shoulder. Marcus was a good fighter who seldom lost battles, but she forced him to surrender in thirty minutes. Xander was impressed—more than he expected. She understood that this was her art, her life's mission. Sylvia turned to Galan, smirking at the commander's sneer, and extended her arm behind her before bowing deeply. A mocking bow. Xander let out a snort, and Sylvia met his gaze. Even while her attitude irritated him, he found it humorous when she used it on others. She gave him a lupine smile, and Xander adjusted his look to one of indifference. She might have impressed him, but he would not stroke her ego.
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Xander kept his promise and stayed to watch throughout the day's training. Sylvia was in the ring more than most and always came out victorious. With the majority of the chiefs out scouting, she faced off against the recruits and sergeants. It was over in minutes with the recruits, and she didn't get a single bruise, but she did seem to hold back against Samuel and Keya. So they're friends. With the exception of those two, the majority hobbled out of the ring or got assistance, and in her absence, she helped Keya refine her form and movement for her impending opponent. Sylvia's acute eyes took note of everything, from each challenger's strengths to their shortcomings, and she used it all to her advantage. Xander had only encountered a few people who could learn so quickly and change their combat style in the blink of an eye; she was definitely a unique breed. Each time he caught her eye, she smiled and feigned to scratch her cheek with her middle finger. He had to hide his smile and give her a simple wink, which caused her to roll her eyes dramatically. She lacked respect, but she was right: respect is earned, even from a High Lord. Though it did little to keep his temper from rising somewhat when others noticed, as much as her rebellious attitude piqued his interest, having his rank undermined was dangerous, especially in front of people like Galan. His status as High Lord was open to contest, although no one has done so yet. Not when people recognize him as the male who grinned before a kill, but her attitude may make him appear soft if he allows her to walk over him, so he'll simply match her attitude with his own.
Xander went over the grounds, observing the other commanders and their charges in turn. Some performed better than others, and a few recruits appeared to lose focus as he watched, so he moved on. Hours passed, and his muscles ached to be in the ring for some relief, but with the others still working on their assignments, he was forced to settle for a solo session tonight. Perhaps they'll return before the end of the day, allowing him to vent his frustrations on Reece or Damon. Megan will most likely recline on the mat with a glass of wine in her hand, shouting profanities whenever they get too close to her. Xander managed a grin at the memories, and his chest ached. They've been gone for days without sending a word. Even though he knew they'd return safely, he was concerned for them. They'd been with him for so long and faced so many threats together that he was confident they could handle themselves.
Before long, the sun kissed the tree canopy, signifying the conclusion of training. Xander lounged against the bathroom wall as groups passed by on their way home, some looking more battered than others. He knew the majority of them would be heading to Deathclaw shortly; perhaps he could go get a drink or two to soothe his nerves.
"What did you think?" Emile drawled alongside him, and Xander sighed.
"She's good; you definitely underplayed her talent." Xander responded, noticing the redhead laughing beside the ring with her friends.
"In my defense, I haven't seen her fight in quite a few years." Emile continued, beaming brightly, but the smile faded when Xander turned to face him. "You hurt her this morning." The male's eyes flashed with violence, and Xander sighed as he looked over his shoulder at the female.
"It wasn't intentional, but I needed to get my point across." He countered, and Emile sighed, then nodded.
"She can be quite stubborn." Emile agreed, running his hand over the sweat on his brow. "She asked about the others." His voice dropped to a whisper, and Xander looked into the male's gentle, green eyes.
"What did you tell her?" Xander ordered, crossing his arms across his chest.
"Just the basics—that they weren't here, what they were like." Emile responded, again casting a glance at his friend. She was conversing with Marcus while beaming from ear to ear.
"Okay, keep it that way. Damon does not want her to know until he is ready." Xander ran his fingers over his hair, the short fade on the side prickling his skin. "Does she know about you?"
"That I'm in the inner circle? No." Emile leaned his shoulder against the wooden wall and took a deep breath.
"I'm surprised you haven't told her."
"And say what? That I was present while everyone talked about her as if she were a piece of meat? That I walked out of the meeting during the vote on whether she should keep her head or not?" Emile sighed again, dragging his fingers down the length of his face. "She is my sister's best friend, Xander. Which makes her family, and I don't want to lose her trust." Xander furrowed his brow as he flicked his tongue against the silver band in his lip.
"Don't you think she'll be more pissed off that you kept it from her?" Xander challenged, and Emile's lips formed a narrow line.
"That is, if she finds out. Not to mention, it's not the most important secret I'm holding from her right now." Xander noticed the turmoil forming in the male's eyes and simply nodded.
"Sadly, that is not your secret to tell."
"Yes, she doesn't know anything right now. But the moment she suspects we're hiding something, she'll pursue us like a bloodhound." Emile mused, not even trying to hide his proud smile.
"Then make sure she doesn't catch the scent." Xander instructed, and Emile nodded again before joining up with her and Marcus on their way to the city. She glared over her shoulder at him, and he smiled back. He watched them descend the small hill, and she gave him a rude gesture before vanishing below the green slope.
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Xander returned to the training grounds just in time to see everyone arrive for training the next day, although this time she was accompanied by Marcus rather than Emile. The male was smiling from ear to ear as she laughed, and for a brief moment, he considered killing him. Considered tearing his head from his shoulders. Xander forced a smile as they passed him. He could smell the vanilla clinging to the male and knew exactly what had happened the night before, prompting his rage to flare anew, but he stomped on it. She wasn't his; he had no right to meddle, yet his wolf clawed to the surface, eager to rip the male apart. Perhaps he should take her life to end the pain and whiplash. Xander rolled his shoulders once, twice, and stepped into the ring, where Galan was already shouting out initial names. Sylvia wasn't among them today, but Keya was. Her opponent was already in the ring, stretching her arms and bouncing on the balls of her feet to loosen her tight muscles. If he remembers correctly, her name is Hallie Ledge. A volunteer. She was about 50 years older than Keya, but still rather young for a recruit. The female was just three inches taller than her, with short, cropped black hair and a curled fringe on top. He'd seen her around the city a few times, particularly at the bakery that served his favorite chocolate ganache cups.
"Keya?" Sylvia's tone grabbed his attention; worry permeated it, and he found Keya hunched over alongside her, choking back a scream. Sweat had already covered the girl's brow, and he could hear the faint sound of bone grinding against bone. Her first shift. "Keya, isn't today your 40th?" Sylvia asked, squatting alongside her, and Samuel followed suit. The girl did not respond; instead, she scraped her teeth against each other.
"Galan told her to come." Samuel responded, and Sylvia's eyes flashed before she shot up, glaring at her commander.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" She was shouting loudly enough to make the other units stop and turn. "She needs to go home!" Xander watched, resting on the post near him. His commanders had complete control of their battalions, so he will remain out of it.
"Watch your mouth, recruit!" Galan seethed, and his jaw feathered. "If she can make it through the day on her first shift, she will be stronger for it. Here, only the strongest survive. She will fight."
"She can barely stand!" Sylvia didn't mind that she was drawing a crowd; her entire focus was on her commander. "A wolf's first shift is the most vulnerable and terrible time for them. Send her home." Anger emanated from her, and violence shined so clearly in her eyes that Xander believed her very glare could kill the male.
"You do not make demands here, pup. Get her into the ring." Galan demanded, and Sylvia whirled at Xander. He could detect a little tremor in her hands, as if she was resisting the temptation to rend Galan limb from limb.
"Do something." She bit out, nearly choking on her anger, and he disguised everything—every thought, every emotion—by merely shrugging. They'd never been in this scenario before, and he was intrigued how far she'd go for someone she considered a friend. Her gaze narrowed, and death itself swarmed in them, promising a slow and agonizing death before she turned back to Galan. "Get in the ring." The tone in her words sent phantom shivers down his spine—nothing but absolute authority. The sound of chaos and death.
"You don't—" Galan started, crossing his arms across his big chest.
"Shut the fuck up and enter the damn ring. I challenge you." She ground out her words and vaulted the fence with such ease that you could hardly hear her boots hit the ground. Galan spared Xander a glance, furrowing his brow.
"A challenge is a challenge, Galan." Xander responded, indicating toward the ring. Galan murmured something he couldn't hear before jumping over the barrier. He had hardly reached the ground when she was on top of him. Faster than any of the bouts he saw yesterday, as if she had been holding back the entire time. Galan was a skilled warrior who matched Sylvia's height, but she was slimmer and faster. Despite the packed muscles on her stomach and arms, she moved like a dancer. She parried his strikes and landed blow after blow, yet he was wise. He picked up on her style almost as quickly as he recognized what she was doing. A crowd has formed around the ring. Amara was leaning against the fence, watching with glee as a few recruits stood behind Keya, murmuring encouraging words as she pushed through the waves of pain. The first shift was excruciatingly unpleasant, potentially leaving you bedridden for days. Attempting to repair the harm from the shift. His was manageable. Xander was on his feet a few hours after his first shift, roaring and enjoying the black fur, while females fared worse. At least, that was what he heard. He saw Megan go through hers all those years ago and despised every moment of it. Reece and Damon breezed through theirs, although Reece had to sleep for nearly two days afterward.
A powerful punch drew his focus back to the fight. Galan had delivered a superb uppercut to her jaw, and she was now lying on the ground, smirking. A violent and lethal smile. Galan made the mistake of getting too close, and she flipped onto her back, kicking out her feet and knocking his legs out from beneath him. She jumped on him as soon as his back hit the ground. She pressed her booted feet into his thighs before ramming her fist into his face. His cheek split open with the second punch, as did her lip when he returned the swing. She didn't stop, scarcely noticing her split lip as she rained punches down on him. Xander could hear a faint crack of bone as she pushed her fist into his side, but Galan didn't flinch before gripping her ponytail and throwing her off him. She immediately regained her feet, just in time to deflect a deadly blow to her ribs.
"Are you going to stop this?" Xander looked over his shoulder at Emile. When the male heard strikes hitting on either side, his eyes widened and his nose twisted.
"And ruin the fun?" Xander drawled, watching Sylvia twist and kick Galan's knees so hard that the male fell onto them. The sound of his knees striking the dirt made a few troops sigh with uneasiness.
"She will kill him, Xander." Emile murmured low enough that no one could hear him address the High Lord in such casual terms.
"I'll stop it before it comes to that, but will we really miss that asshole?" Xander mocked, and Emile glared at him. "Alright, alright." Before vaulting the fence, Xander waved his hand in response to the male's look. Sylvia was once again forcing the male to the ground, and as Xander moved closer, he could see the bruises on the male's face. The male's eye had swollen shut, and there were several cuts on his face. Sylvia, on the other hand, had merely a shattered lip and a growing bruise on her cheek; others were most likely concealed by her attire and tattoos. Ether flooded the morning air as magic seeped from him, covering the lingering vanilla and almond scent. "That's enough." Xander drawled and pulled at the string of magic that was drifting through his thoughts, causing the vibration to tsunami outward. The ether blazed, and the magic replied by slamming into them and knocking them in opposing directions. Sylvia was on her feet in seconds, her eyes only holding the promise of death as Galan lurched to his feet, clutching his side. Maybe it wasn't just a crack.
"Get out of my way." Sylvia's voice sounded so unusual that it shocked him. That tone, that seductive song, had vanished, leaving only fury and violence behind. He always believed that death might possess that voice.
"Just a minute, pet. I don't want you to kill my commander." Xander drawled, and her emerald eyes met his. She seemed to listen to something, but no one spoke. Her eyes narrowed, as if she was trying to calm herself or plotting how to kill him. He diverted his gaze from her and toward the injured male. He was shivering with wrath or agony, probably both, as he straightened, but he leaned his weight to one side. She clearly broke something. "I'm quite comfortable saying that she kicked your ass, Galan." The male's nostrils flared and his forehead furrowed. "Send the girl home." Samuel wasted no time in getting Keya off the floor, and Sylvia rushed over the fence to help. Galan growled beneath his breath, his gaze burning holes in her back as she supported her friend. Galan was powerful, even by Xander's standards, but she held her own and, more importantly, kicked his ass. Having her as an ally would undoubtedly be beneficial, but as a threat, that's another matter. If she became a threat, he would kill her without hesitation, damning the promise he made all those years ago.