Chapter 2

Like most common areas at the Military Academy, the registration hall was old, huge and smelled like mossy stone. The walls were covered in dark wood paneling and the few tables and chairs occupying the space had been ravaged by the spurs and sabers of the thousands of young males who had passed through. It was obvious just from glancing around that everything was designed by males for males. Most AEssyrian males averaged six-three and weighed well over two hundred fifty pounds, and that was without their armor on. Given that, it wasn’t surprising that the furnishings were made of thick, hardy wood. What Gypsy wouldn’t give to be able to sit in one of those behemoth chairs, but no—she was stuck in the back of the registration line waiting for over an hour to sign up for classes. Such was the life of a new student. She sure hoped everything wasn’t closed by the time she got to the front.

Makkai, her friend and fellow freshmen, was standing behind her nudging her every time a famous officer walked by. He was having a serious case of celebrity worship and it was annoying the hell out of her. Gypsy would look up, feign interest, and go back to brooding over how long this line was taking. As she stood there, she wondered how her ex-husband Caraculla was doing on campaign. Once her thoughts touched on her love, she felt her throat tighten a little but she quickly chased it off. Gods, how I miss him.

Caraculla had been the only one who’d supported her though her struggles to get into the Academy. They had a long history together, and Gypsy had even married him to save his life when his relatives were threatening to take him off life support after a serious head injury. Although he loved her and appreciated what she’d done, he refused to let her stay married to him. He had told her that she was too young and she needed to sow her wild oats before settling down with one male. And so, with a full heart, Gypsy had set the marriage aside. Even now that she’d achieved her Academy dream, she wondered if she’d done the right thing.

Then she was pulled from her daydream by another annoying poke. Looking back at Makkai, who had nudged her again for the fiftieth time, she saw him toss his head over toward the open double doors to the outside. Gypsy glanced over to see General Kharon talking to a few upper classmen. Her mouth went dry as she remembered their encounter in the arena last night. He had evoked a strange sensation in her that she couldn’t identify. It was like lust but so much more. She turned back to Makkai. “Will you knock it off?”

“What?” he said, craning to see over the tops of everyone’s heads.

“Stop bumping my arm every time an officer walks past you. I don’t care who’s here. I just want to get my classes,” she said, still staring at Kharon. Even among AEssyrian males, Kharon was a monster. He was a classic example of what her mother would term a Bull Male. Like her father Gavin, he was easily over three hundred pounds of pure muscle and stood half a foot taller than most of the men around him. He was dressed in the dark gray and red uniform of his kingdom and it framed him perfectly. As she studied him, she realized he wasn’t as handsome as he was roguishly attractive. His green skin was a dusty olive and his face, with its heavy brow and muscled jaw, hinted at a secret savagery. He was everything an AEssyrian male aspired to be: powerful, successful, and deadly.

Kharon glanced up from his conversation and their eyes met. Gypsy stared into his eyes, one a chilling arctic blue and the other a more normal greenish brown. Suddenly she couldn’t look away. She also caught sight of the three link chain tattoo by his right eye indicating he’d once been a slave. A feverish heat crept from her neck to her face and her palms began to sweat. Makkai was saying something to her but she was lost in her awakening desire. Suddenly Makkai gave her a shove.

Gypsy turned and glared at him. “What now?” she barked.

He made a sweeping gesture and frowned at her. “Go! You’ve been bitching about the line for an hour and now, when it’s almost your turn, you’re in another place.” Gypsy looked in front of her and burned with embarrassment. The line had moved up four spaces while she’d been daydreaming. She walked up and was relieved to find she was next. Finally.

Seconds later she reached the registrar who adjusted his glasses and looked across the desk at her like she was a primate. “Give me your list,” he said in a pinched tone. Gypsy reached into her pocket and pulled out a tattered and worn piece of paper that had been folded several times into a small square. She meticulously unfolded it and smoothed it out by rubbing it back and forth on the edge of the registration table. The registrar sighed and leaned back in his chair waiting for her to finish. When Gypsy was satisfied the paper could be read, she placed it on the desk in front of him and reverently pushed it toward him.

The registrar glanced at it and immediately crossed off the first class with a thick red pen. “This one’s closed,” he said, writing down the other two in his ledger. Gypsy grabbed the class listing off the side table and frantically leafed through it. Shit! Everything’s closed. Makkai reached over her shoulder and tapped his finger in the book next to a special weapons class. “Take that one,” he said, still pointing. “We can be in that class together.”

Before she could answer, the registrar recorded the change and leaned sideways around Gypsy holding out his hand to Makkai for his selection paper. Gypsy stepped out of line still staring down at the listing and slowly walked away. Something was bothering her. Getting in that class was too easy. Why wasn’t it closed? She stopped to study her class list while waiting for Makkai to finish and catch up to her. He moved up next to her and as they began to walk, she turned to him and said, “Who’s teaching the special weapons class?”

Makkai beamed like a groom about to walk down the aisle. “General Kharon,” he said. “It’ll be so cool. I can’t wait!”

Gypsy’s stomach dropped. There was no way she was taking a class with that colossal asshole. After all, he had almost killed Caraculla last year in their grandmaster’s match. Making a sudden about-face, she sprinted back to the registrar’s table but he was already closing his books.

“What do you want, young lady?” he asked, tucking his ledgers under his arm. The light green skin around his eyes sagged as if he hadn’t slept in weeks.

“I need to switch that last class,” she said.

“Too late,” he snorted. “All the ledgers are closed, no more changes allowed. And I suggest you hurry to your weapons class,” he said, glancing out the window to judge the time. “You’re first lesson with General Kharon meets this morning.”

“You don’t understand. That’s the class I want to change. Please, I’ll take anything else!” she said, trying not to sound as frantic as she felt.

“No, young lady, you don’t understand. Even if I allowed you to change the class, there are no other open classes and you need to pass three courses to advance next year.”

Gypsy groaned and turned around to see that Makkai was already gone. She shuffled off toward the door, defeated. Glancing down at the schedule, she was struck by the horror that the class started in five minutes. Gypsy took off at a dead run. The last thing she wanted was to be late and get singled out. Being the only woman in the class would be bad enough.