“I would imagine our country’s defense is more important than spells for the common folk.”
“It doesn’t have to be one or the other,” she said with a long sigh.
“Maybe you can bring up the matter to His Majesty.”
Biyu’s eyes widened and she backed away from the shelf, as if it would lurch forward and tie together a proposal for her to send the emperor. She was already shaking her head before he could say anything more. “I highly doubt His Majesty would be interested in whatever I have to say.”
“I don’t think that’s true. His Majesty has already opened up a school for studying magic that’s open to commoners. It’s still in the preliminary stages of development, but I think classes already began two months prior.”
“Why haven’t I heard anything about it?”
“Probably because you’re locked away in your room most of the time.”
She couldn’t imagine Drakkon Muyang being interested in any social affairs. He was always entrenched in war and battles, not … schools. But then again, he had more interest in magic than her father did, and he was putting more attention to mages and the studies of magic. It was probably all to help with his war efforts, she gathered. He probably wanted powerful mages to fight for him.
“You seem to care for the common folk?” He posed it as a question, like it surprised him to find out she had a heart. When she shot him another sour look, he continued, “You’ve never interacted with commoners before, have you?”
“I don’t need to interact with people to care about them,” she said. “And I’ve read books.”
“Books about commoners?”
“No, books on … war and such.” She shrugged and continued down the line of shelves. She traced a finger over the thick dust. “I’ve read about mothers whose sons died in battle and how they never got to see their graves. I’ve read about children starving in man-made famines. I’ve read about women who lost everything—their children, husbands, homes—from conflicts beyond their control.”
Silence filled the space between them, but it wasn’t awkward or unnatural. She was used to forlorn quietness, and this didn’t feel like that. She could feel him watching her. She walked along the books and scanned the spines. A sense of peace settled over her. She realized with a start that she wasn’t anxious like she usually was. Especially being so near him. Maybe it meant she was growing tougher, or perhaps she was growing accustomed to his presence.
“Do you want to get out of here?”
Biyu froze, her finger hovering over a scroll. She slowly turned to him. “Huh?”
He was leaning one shoulder against a bookshelf, his arms crossed over his chest. He looked … serious. His red brows pulled together in an inquisitive way. When she continued to stare at him, he pushed off from the shelf and held his hand out. “Let’s get out of here.”
“W-what do you mean?”
Nikator grabbed her hand and tugged her in the opposite direction of Minos and Vita. She gave a backward glance at where they had been at, her head spinning. “What do you meanleave? We have to research and … and what about Minos and Vita?”
“They’ll manage without us.”
“But won’t they feel offended that we left them whenthey’rehelpingus?”
He gave a short laugh. “Minos will be thrilled once he realizes he doesn’t have to help anymore, and Vita will get over it.”
“Oh.” Biyu didn’t know what to say to that. Although she should have been adamant to stay in the library and look for a powerful spell, she couldn’t turn down a chance to leave. Anything for even a sliver of freedom.
20
Nikator pushedopen one of the exits and pulled her along. They entered an unfamiliar, brightly lit corridor packed with mages, whose emerald and silver robes fluttered behind them with their hurried steps. Biyu tightened her hold on Nikator’s hand without meaning to and inched closer to him, her gaze flicking over the various unacquainted faces. The last time she had been with a mage, she had been kicking and screaming as they held her down and drew her blood—for the wards, according to Yat-sen. They terrified her.
He squeezed her hand gently, almost like he was reassuring her, but his expression was as impassive as ever. Biyu tried memorizing the path as they went left, right, and down a staircase, but the winding halls were too similar for her to discern where they were or which direction they had just come from. Maybe it was on purpose.
Most of the mages ignored them, but a few nodded at Nikator, noting their joined hands, but saying nothing. She thought maybe he’d be embarrassed to be holding her like this, but he made no move to release her. Was he holding her in case she tried to run, or did he simply want to hold hands?
His hands were rough and calloused. Signs of a man who had worked his whole life. Or simply used weapons too often.
She glanced down at the thin scars crisscrossing over his fingers and the top of his hand. They were faint, old, and she was reminded once more of when he had stripped his shirt off and showcased the various scars and burns over his body. He had been in many battles before, she could tell, and she wondered what that felt like. Being a warrior. Fighting, killing, injuring yourself.
She certainly wasn’t cut out for that life. Just this—trying to be sneaky, using spells, and getting herself into the thick of trouble—was paralyzing enough for her. She didn’t want to go to battle.
“What are you thinking? You’ve got this look on your face like you’re confused.”
