your best sniper, but I can shoot just fine.”
From the moment Seraphin rolled that first r , letting his Regarian accent shine through, the general’s eyes narrowed. He clacked his tongue and when he responded, he made his voice loud and clear so every single soul in the courtyard could hear.
“When they told me they’d started recruiting Regarians for the militia, I wasn’t impressed. I still expected better than sick runts who had nowhere else to go. How did you cheat the tests, soldier? I know you can’t see shit without those fancy glasses of yours.”
“I didn’t cheat. Sir.”
Only a little. Enough to convince them he wasn’t legally blind, and could handle himself in a fight. He’d aced the shooting practices, too—half a year of intensive training paying off, letting him prove that he could fight alongside others. General Vermen snorted at his answer, like he didn’t believe a word of it.
“What’s your name?”
“Seraphin Holt.”
“Well, Holt … It’s always good to know who to send on the most dangerous mission. Welcome to the team. I’ll keep an eye on you.”
Seraphin’s heart quickened until he could feel its beat down to the very tips of his fingers. He hadn’t joined to become cannon fodder. It had taken everything to get into this army, despite their so-called new recruitment of Regarian militia. They had questioned his loyalty over and over again, asking about ties with the guerilla resistance. It didn’t matter how often Seraphin told them he no longer spoke to anyone from his hometown, they wouldn’t listen. At some point they grew bored of it, or admitted they wouldn’t get any other answer, and finally allowed him to join a squad. Their sergeant had come to trust him, yet General Vermen’s threat made Seraphin feel like he’d fallen back to square one. He met the officer’s dark gaze, lifting his chin a little.
“Thank you, sir. It’s good to know someone with better eyesight is watching my back.”
General Vermen’s glare intensified, and Seraphin wondered what kind of disciplinary measure he’d inherit for that little comeback. He tried not to smile. The officer scoffed, shook his head, and moved on without a word.
Seraphin didn’t relax until Vermen was way down the line of soldiers. He heaved a sigh of relief, as many others had before him. Even their sergeant seemed on edge when the general came to speak with him. Seraphin caught them looking his way, and for a moment it seemed like the lesser officer might be defending him. One could always hope, anyway, but Seraphin made sure not to stare in their direction.
“Sure am glad I didn’t bet,” Stern said in a low voice. “He doesn’t like you.”
“Nobody ever does, it seems.”
There was one notable exception to that rule, and as General Vermen left the courtyard and they were dismissed, Seraphin couldn’t help but miss Alex. Stern was a good and loyal friend, but he was straight as an iron bar. He didn’t quite get what it was like, to be noticed and shunned on such a frequent basis. Not the way Alex had. His friend’s arrival in Seraphin’s life had been like a breath of fresh air.
CHAPTER TWO
Alex first came to Iswood in the spring of Seraphin’s fifteenth birthday. The snow had only half-melted, and while there was none on the roofs of the small village’s houses, large drifts still clung in the shadows of buildings. With the warm sun out that day, however, Seraphin knew they wouldn’t last much longer. He’d gone out with his younger sister, Leanna, each armed with a long courtball stick. They slung the ball at each other, trying to catch it with the net at the top of their stick, and groaning when it fell with a whump in a pile of snow. Seraphin hadn’t bothered to put a coat and cap on, but he did have his special sunglasses. This time of the year was one of the rare occasions when the sun was hot enough to keep him warm, but weak enough not to burn his skin within an hour. He