As I crossed the entrance hall, she emerged quietly from the shadows, as if she’d been waiting for me there, and matched my pace.
“Where have you been?” she demanded.
Danesh was two years older than me—pale, square-jawed, with bright hazel eyes that always seemed to be flashing with anger—and a squadron captain in her own right. Unusual for a vissera, even an Anointed one like Danesh. Reading animal entrails to glean information and prophesy was certainly useful, but those abilities usually didn’t warrant a command position.
A fact Danesh boasted about at every opportunity.
I continued toward the infirmary without looking at her. I liked Danesh well enough, even admired her. We’d been in the same recruiting class. I’d spent more than half my life with her. But her arrogance rankled me. Confidence was a must in the Order; arrogance could get people killed.
Danesh’s long ash-blond braid whipped through the air behind us. “I heard about what happened earlier today.”
My stomach turned over with fresh shame. It seemed I possessed an endless supply of it. “Many things happened today,” I said.
“Don’t be coy with me, Mara. We’ve been in this together since the beginning. What’s going on with you? Brigid’s been in the infirmary for hours. It’s not like you to lose control.”
Danesh’s words brought forth flashes of memory:
The two of us as children on the shores of the black lake.
Are you fast?The first words I’d spoken to her.
And hours after that, her words to me:You did the right thing. Petra was a coward.
I rolled my shoulders, shaking off the ghost of Petra’s hands pressing against my arms. Trying in vain to stop me. Begging me for mercy.
“Just a bad day,” I replied, lengthening my stride.
But Danesh was relentless, jogging after me. “The Warden told me about Sablemire. She’s concerned about you.”
“What about Sablemire?”
“That you’re torn up about it for some reason. That it might affect your work going forward.”
“It won’t.”
“Oh no?” Her voice was deceptively innocent. “Hasn’t it already? Last I checked, you weren’t supposed to completely incapacitate your sparring partners.”
I squared my shoulders as we passed the wing housing the librarians, determined to react to neither Danesh’s needling nor the nearness of Gareth. He was somewhere in those rooms. Working, probably, or maybe sleeping. I wondered what his face looked like when it was soft with sleep.
“Is there a point to this conversation?” I said.
“Whatever’s wrong with you, resolve it,” Danesh replied. “I don’t want to go on missions with someone I can’t trust to have my back.”
That made me stop short. Not once in my years of service had anyone expressed doubt about trusting me.
“Did the Warden tell you to say all of this?” I said quietly, no longer bothering to hide my anger. “Or are you just scrambling to get on her good side yet again, since fucking her hasn’t worked?”
Danesh grinned slowly, her eyes flashing with victory. “You should try it sometime. Might take the edge off.”
I walked past her without another word, afraid of what I might do if I lingered. After all, Danesh was right, wasn’t she? It wasn’t like me to lose control, and yet I had.
It wasn’t like me to be unkind, either, and yet look what I’d done to Gareth.
Once I was alone in the infirmary hallway, I paused for a moment, trying to clear my mind of all things—Danesh’s words, Gareth’s face. Then I pushed through the door and found Brigid sitting on a cot reading, propped up by several fluffy pillows. A cup of tea steamed on the table beside her. She took one look at me and set down her book.
Nanette, our head nurse, bustled in behind me. She was a stout, no-nonsense woman with cropped gray hair, gentle gray eyes, and a convenient talent for keeping secrets.
“No visitors right now, Mara,” she said curtly, “not even you.”
