“When she saved Ice Boy.” Anees chuckled. “Who’d save a murderer?”
“We are all murderers here, aren’t we?”
Their voices were muffled by the wind dancing through the yard, lifting dead leaves and grains of sand. Lory needed to get closer—just close enough not to miss a word spoken about what happened on the mock-roof on the training parcours. Slowly, she inched sideways, careful not to make any noise as she approached the gap in the otherwise solid banister. A few more feet and she’d have a better view of what was going on. There, by the columns, she’d stop and?—
With a scraping sound that made both Falcrest and Anees’s heads whip toward the balcony, Lory’s boot slipped on the uneven tiles beneath her soles, and her hand slid from the column. She caught herself on her knees and hands, palms slapping against the stone, and with mortification andterror, Lory held her breath, waiting for the two people, whom Falcrest had just proclaimed murderers, to spy her, drag her down, and execute her on the spot.
Not moving when two predators were probably already approaching on silent feet went against all instincts, but Lory forced her body into submission, forced back the pain in her cramping muscles when, for a long minute, no one spoke. Even the wind chose that exact moment to die down.
They’d come for her—they’d come for her and put her neck in a sling, or simply run her through with one of those slender swords. Or they’d push her off the balcony—itwashigh enough to break her neck.
When she dared open her eyes, through the slender gap in the banister, Lory could see the two forms facing the balcony, both with slightly bent knees and their swords lifted in a defensive stance, both faces tight with the anticipation of an attack.
If they saw her?—
“Probably the wind,” Falcrest said after eleven strained heartbeats, lowering his sword as he straightened to his full height.
Anees nodded, turning her back toward the balcony and flipping her sword in her hand as she scanned the rest of the yard for intruders, spies, or whatever they expected would haunt them in this place. Only when they both seemed convinced did Anees sheath her blade once more and pick up the conversation right where they’d left off.
“You’re not a murderer, Khay. You’re doing what you have to. Don’t compare yourself to someone who slaughters in cold blood.”
Lory couldn’t read the expression on Falcrest’s face as he sheathed his own blade, picking up the water bottle and pouring its contents over his head.
“If anything, you’re saving them a lot of pain.”
“I’m getting them killed.”
Anees’s hand reached for Falcrest’s shoulder. “Don’t forget why you’re here.” There was no consolation in Anees’s voice, only a reminder; of what, Lory couldn’t possibly tell. Just that Falcrest wasn’t entirely happy with the blood he shed.
“Keep the street rat in check in Veiled training. If she draws any more attention, someone might actually run her through with a sword or succeed in throwing her off a roof.”
The chuckle emerging from Anees’s mouth was anything but comforting, and Lory wondered whether the hint of concern in Falcrest’s tone was for show or if he actually wanted her to survive Ashthorn.
By the time Lory decided it didn’t matter, they had grabbed their things, and Falcrest tied his shirt around his hips before he sheathed his sword at his belt. “Same time tomorrow?” He wrapped an arm around Anees in a brief hug, already vanishing under the balcony as the woman nodded.
Lory remained still behind the banister, hand braced against the base of a column and heart pounding in her throat. Only when Anees finally disappeared through a side door did Lory dare take a deep breath, sitting back on her heels in a crouch and counting the beats of her racing heart.
She was aboutto sit up and flex her arms and legs after remaining in the same position for so long when a tall, powerful form leaped over the banister, landing on dirty, black boots without making enough noise to alert the moths swirling in the soft moonlight.
“Nosy, aren’t you, Gutter Gem?” Falcrest’s voice poured over her in a dangerous, velvet melody.
Struggling to get to her feet, Lory almost hit her head on the handrail atop the banister, the instinct to flee and to pretend she was dead warring for the upper hand.
Until her eyes fell on his chest—hisnakedchest—and all breath left her.
“Up here, Gutter Gem,” Falcrest purred with a hint of a chuckle that could have meant he was about to enjoy ripping her limb from limb.
Lory’s eyes snapped to his face, and Guardians be damned, why couldn’t he have been ugly? It would have been so much easier to simplywantto run.
Falcrest cocked his head, folding his arms in front of his chest.
“Any particular reason you’re spying on school leadership, ashling?” asked Falcrest when she didn’t speak.
“I … I wasn’t spying.” The words came out too much in a stutter to convince anyone—especially him.
“Lies don’t become you, Vednis.” For a moment, he studied her, and when she didn’t speak, he lowered his head so his mouth was close to her ear and whispered. “Let me give you a reminder:You fail to train, you die. You fail to produce magic, you die. You fail to obey orders, youdie.Sound familiar?”
Lory’s head bobbed, but she remembered something more than that. “I thought you didn’t like me when I’m deferent,” she prompted, putting on her best smirk in the hopes he wouldn’t notice she was close to shitting herself.
