The murmur in the room died alongside her thoughts when a middle-aged man with short, grizzled hair and a lean frame, and a tall, athletic woman with a reddish-brown bun at the back of her head entered the room, both of them wearing a silver hand on the breast of their uniforms. The same functional black fabric as the ashlings’ clothes but more similar in cut to what the Masters of Veils and Steel wore.
“Good morning, ashlings,” the man said, climbing onto the pedestal in swift, powerful steps. “I’m Hand Dunveil. I’ve been leading blue for the past seven years and have the honor to do so again this year. This”—he gestured at the woman standing next to him, her slitted eyes on the group of ashlings like she expected them to attack at any moment—“is Hand Sil. She’s the best combat instructor you can get at Ashthorn, so consider yourselves lucky you ended up in blue. When not in the presence of higher leadership, you’ll answer to me or Hand Sil.” He paused to make sure the message sank in.
“For the ones among you who haven’t heard much about this academy before you joined, the colors have no meaning. You were randomly assigned to them and will be staying in your color until you ascend to thornling.
“During your time at Ashthorn, you’ll be trained in six disciplines: Steel, Veiled, Elixir, Medica, Knowledge, and Gild. You’ll meet your respective instructors throughout the next weeks, but you’ll start tomorrow morning with Hand Sil. Now drag your asses down the blue line to your new quarters. Time for single bedrooms is over.”
Just like that, Hand Dunveil stepped off the pedestal and disappeared through another hidden door at the side of the room.
While the ashlings at the front of the room were talking excitedly about starting their training, Lory glanced at the closing door, Thal and Tabi standing a few steps aside, discussing hand-to-hand combat tactics they studied.
“At least, there’s no bell this time,” Lory muttered to herself, ready to take the first full breath since she’d left the mess hall.
“No bell.” She almost jumped out of her skin at the sound of a familiar, rich, velvet baritone from close behind her. “But you’ll get another chance tomorrow at breakfast.”
Turning on her heels, she found herself face to face with Captain Falcrest, his gray eyes peering down at her like daggers made of ice, and her skin heated as he scanned her from head to toe like she was a threat. On instinct, her hand wandered to her hip, grasping thin air.
How he’d snuck up on her like that was beyond her. Usually, Lory was the one to do that, stalking the streets ofDunai on silent feet, but the rules of the streets didn’t apply in here, and Captain Falcrest seemed to have made it his mission to remind her she wasn’t unobserved for even a minute. She’d need to watch what she said and where she walked; by Eroth, she’d even need to be careful what she thought. Who knew what sort of magic was going around in this prison of an academy?
“Now hop along, Gutter Gem. You don’t want to keep your friends waiting.”
Lory merely glanced over her shoulder to make sure the others were still there. When she turned back, Falcrest was gone.
Six
The blue quartersbuzzed to life at sunrise the next morning, ashlings heading for the bathing rooms and getting dressed in fresh clothes that had appeared on the foot of each bed in the dormitory large enough to host the entire group of thirty-three. Blue quarters literally meantblue.Apart from the familiar gray stone walls, floors, and ceiling, everything was a lovely shade of sky blue: the curtains on the four-poster beds, the sheets, the notebooks and pens sitting on the narrow, wooden nightstands next to each of the beds.
Lory had barely fallen asleep the night before, the mattress nearly drowning her with its softness and the covers suffocating her, long enough to hide her entire form evenwhen she stretched her legs. At some point during the night, she’d folded the covers aside so she wouldn’t strangle herself with them in her sleep. If Evven could see her like this, he’d laugh himself sick.
The thought of her twin filled her chest with a heaviness, making it hard to breathe. It didn’t matter that these were the most luxurious quarters she’d ever slept in, even sharing them with thirty-two others.
She grabbed her fresh uniform and changed into it before opening the curtains to find Tabi chatting with Brycon a few feet away, Brycon braiding his hair down to his waist while Tabi inspected the belt the new uniform came with.
“Morning, Fresh Meat,” Thal chimed from the bed across from Lory’s, his curls sticking out in every possible direction and a pillow mark decorating his cheek. “Sleep well?”
“Fine.” Lory got to her feet, stepping into the pair of new boots in front of her bed, and took a few steps while Thal bounded for the door.
They fit like gloves, soft and flexible, where her old shoes had been giving her blisters or simply fallen apart. The best pair of footwear she’d ever worn.
“Are they trying to bribe us into compliance?” she asked no one in particular, but the others were already filing into the hallway. With a sigh, Lory followed, dreading the moment the bell would ring again.
It hadn’t for dinner. They’d simply headed for the mess hall after an afternoon of physical exercise with Hand Sil, who’d watched them, stone-faced, as they’d run laps until they passed out.
When Lory made it to the turn in the hallway that led her past her room from the first night, the deep, bone-shaking sound rang through the building, making Lory’s heart pick up pace and, without thinking, she started running, catching up with the bulk of people now filing through the blackened door, squares framed in all five colors on their shoulders.
By the time the bell rang a second time, she was following the other blues to a long table set with blue trays and sat down at the edge next to Thal and Tabi. She hadn’t talked to anyone at dinner last night, and she didn’t really intend to make conversation now, as she waited for the hidden side door to open and someone to lead out whoever didn’t make it this morning. The Master of Veils, Nefetari Brunn, and the Master of Steel, General Ycken, were already sitting at the tables on the dais alongside Hand Dunveil, Hand Sil, and a group of other people wearing the silverhandinsignia.
Lory wasn’t proud to admit to herself the pang in her stomach she felt when she found Captain Falcrest’s chair empty wasn’t one of relief but of disappointment.
Because he’ll bring someone into this room at the tip of his blade just like yesterday,she told herself, but if she was honest, his voice hadn’t left her head since he’d snuck up on her the day before. She couldn’t risk him doing that again—after all, he knew she wasn’t a regular applicant but a criminal addition, and that knowledge was something she’d rather not have out in the open.
Perhaps she should seek him out, confront him about why she was really here, but something about the way he prowled into the room, two ashlings marching in front ofhim, both trembling with fear at the prospect of what was going to happen next, Lory knew there wouldn’t be any answers—not from him.
“Pick a student, Captain.” The Master of Veils’ words were like an echo of the day before as Falcrest stopped on top of the dais, both ashlings beside him turning chalk white.
The empty sensation in Lory’s stomach turned into revulsion.
He didn’t even glance at the crowd, apparently having made up his mind about who’d spill blood this morning. “Anees Frier.”
