The flower—more like a weed—is called dragon’s breath. It grows in the cracks of stone near the wall. We pull it up and burn it because it’s poisonous. Pretty much anything with the name “dragon” in Vinguard is going to try to kill you.
“I swear I checked this greenhouse top to bottom on the first day,” I grumble.
“I wouldn’t be shocked if the inquisitors added it later.”Saipha’s tone is just as sour as mine.
“This place is the worst.”
“Well, at least that’s one thing done for the day.” Saipha tries to shrug it off.
I want to smash the pot against the wall, but instead I put it down delicately and grab the key.
“Let’s get food…and try not to look so murderous on the way?” she suggests with a wink.
I force a smile. “Better?”
“Somehow worse.” She laughs, and it’s a bit forced but still genuine. I can’t help but join her. If I don’t laugh, this place is going to make me weep.
The refectory is connected to the central atrium by way of a short staircase down—as we pass the dragon tapestries, I give Lucan another angry thought. On the way, we stop to exchange my key with an inquisitor for a key to the room across from Saipha’s on the fourth floor.
By the time we reach the refectory, the other supplicants have already settled in for the most part. There are seven round tables set for eight, which is three tables more than necessary—my original count for the number of supplicants was only two off. I wonder if this is how many tables there always are in the monastery, or if they intentionally set it up so not every table would have to be full. So people could pick and choose who they wanted to sit with—ally with.
Already, it looks like factions are forming. Cindel holds court with a group of four. She straightens as I enter.
“You look awful. Rough night?” She tries to paint it as concern.
I see right through it. “This is what someone who spent the night hunting for knowledge and skills looks like, Cindel. But thank you for asking.”
I turn away, scanning the room. But I don’t see the boy coming straight for me until the last second. I try to dodge outof the way, but I swear he walks straight into me intentionally, bumping my shoulder, and I nearly end up with an entire bowl of hot stew down my front. Never thought the vicar’s training would come in handy for dodging food.
“Watch where you’re going!” A familiar set of light-brown eyes meets mine. Benj, Cindel’s creepy Lucan look-alike.
“Sorry,” I mumble and take a wide step around the spilled soup.
“Why are you apologizing to him?” Saipha steps in. “He walked into you on purpose.”
“Why would I do that?” Benj can’t even fight a smile to avoid looking guilty. “Now my soup is on the floor. I guess I have to take your portion.”
“Fine,” I sigh, not really wanting to deal with this after the past two nights I’ve had.
“No, it’s not fine.” Saipha takes another step, nearly going chest-to-chest with Benj. “You’re not walking into her, then taking her food.”
“I only think it’s fair, since Benj lost his because of her,” Cindel chimes in without getting up from the table, because of course she does.
“It’s all right, Saipha, just let him take mine.”
She grumbles the entire time he goes up for another portion but doesn’t fight. That’s how I know she’s also exhausted. As Saipha gets her bowl, I scan the room, searching for a familiar tall frame. When I don’t see Lucan anywhere, I pretend the tightening in my chest has nothing to do with wondering if he survived last night.
Saipha is stepping away from the communal trays when I feel a set of eyes on me. I pointedly ignore Lucanandthe relief flooding my body. It will do me no good to soften an inch for this guy. Every time I’m the least bit vulnerable, he reminds me that he’ll turn on me if he has to. Him having a choice or notin the matter doesn’t change that it’s dangerous for me to be vulnerable around him.
But also…I’m glad he’s all right.
I pick a table at random and end up sitting with a boy that has one blue eye and one brown. It’s weird to see someone with different-colored eyes when one of them isn’t golden. Saipha sits down across from him and slides her tray between us. I don’t fight the offer, taking a few bites of the mushroom soup.
“Horowin Kael,” he introduces himself. “And I know who both of you are, obviously.”
I take a bite of fried egg. “Where are you from?”
“Undercrust, second level.”
