Birthright

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Two Years Later

Province of Calsin

The Metas waited in the tunnel entrance under the stands of the marble amphitheater. Before them was a field of grass in the center of the enormous structure, where acrobats and jugglers entertained the crowd. Two men dressed in blue and green silks tossed a third into the air to the tune of a merry flute through the loudspeakers and spectators clapping along. He sailed so high he looked like he'd taken off for the stars above.

The crowd clapped harder when he lands in his companions' waiting arms. Alexandra Drasse checked her watch impatiently. She and the Metas around her were one of the final events that evening; all that remained was the fireworks show and the Natives' Salute, to be delivered that year by General Hanson of Calsin Province.

Her group's performance, the Dance of Blades, was a special event that year. It was intended to commemorate the implementation of the Concordance Policy. In a few weeks, Calsin Foundation-a reputable foundation that had created and trained the best Metas within the Mainland for generations-would be accepting fifty Sanser recruits.

As such, the ANEF thought it would be fitting to conduct a mock duel between Meta and Sanser teenagers-although the fact that it was choreographed duel meant that the Sansers would inevitably lose. The ANEF's way of reassuring its human citizens that the Metas would always triumph no matter what, as well as reminding Sansers that they could never hope to win.

Alex had just finished a year at Saranth Foundation when they told her she would be transferred to Calsin Foundation in time for the new Sanser recruits. She wasn't a full-fledged Meta yet, but she wore the uniform for the occasion: form-fitting black pants; a dark gray, buttoned, military-style shirt; black gloves with gold trimmings; and a black blazer emblazoned on the back and right arm with the golden M insignia of the Meta Faction.

The laces on her polished boots and her belt buckle were also gold; green and gold were the colors of the Mainland, with green signifying the fertile Mainland and gold the might of the Metas. The gear was light and sparse, but anything more and a Meta's speed and agility would be compromised.

Her hand moved to the hilt of the reinforced steel sword. Pain speared her wrist, but her grip didn't loosen. The arm had been bothering her since last Monday, when she and the squad she was shadowing over the summer break confronted Rebels in the Wasteland sectors outside of Saranth Province.

She'd like to believe she injured it while single-handedly capturing Trosk Melkan or even when she jumped out of the hovcar and landed on top of him, nearly killing herself, but the familiar red-ringed bruise on the inside of her elbow told her otherwise.

"Nervous, Drasse?" a young Meta-in-training asked, picking up on her unease. "This is nothing like fighting in the Wasteland, you know. This is art. Try not to trip over your own feet or you will have the whole Mainland laughing at you tonight."

He was a stocky young man her age, a student at Calsin Foundation with hard golden eyes and cruelty in the lines of his face. She had seen him in highlight videos from Calsin. Stan Aries had a reason for being so cocky; he outshined most of his fellow Metas-in-training.

"Watch how you speak to her," Robert Nourse said, his broad shoulders tensed beneath his blazer. Like Alex and Stan and most of the young Metas gathered in the tunnel, he was also going to be attending Calsin Foundation, but she had known him and his brother, Oliver, long before then, back when they both lived at Saranth.

He stepped closer to Stan before Alex laid a hand on his arm. She hated it when Robert treats her like she needed protecting. She was the daughter of General Drasse of Saranth Province. The great granddaughter of Sara Nathan, whom the province was named after. The only reason she hadn't tossed this Stan Aries on his back already was because she couldn't get into a fistfight with every Meta who hoped for the chance to humiliate the Mainland's prodigy. It was beneath her, as her father always said.