“I don’t care how you attack, as long as you do, Vednis.” Falcrest’s tone was laced with impatience and a good dose of intrigue as he studied her with that unreadable expression.
Very well, then?—
Slowing her breath and calming her heart, Lory tuned out the clash of steel and the murmurs in the background, and when she was sure nothing could divert her focus, she lifted her dagger in front of her the way Hand Sil had trained them. With a casual step forward, she measured the distance, watching Falcrest’s hands and feet rather than the dagger. She’d made the mistake of not paying attention before, and Frost had knocked her off balance so fast it would have been a sure kill.
“I don’t have all day, Vednis.” Falcrest’s drawl was loud enough to secure the attention of the entire yard, and at the edge of Lory’s vision, students had gathered by her training segment, watching curiously how the Veiled Hand was going to destroy the criminal ashling.
Not today.
Focus.
She was three steps away, and Falcrest hadn’t bothered to do more than lift his dagger when Lory decided it was now or never.
With a quick glance at the sun, she tilted her dagger to reflect the light right into Falcrest’s eyes. It wasn’t much, but it bought her the moment she needed to get into his guard. One quick blow would be enough to show him whata street rat could do, that raw clawing for her life wasn’t the only thing the hardships of growing up on the streets had taught her.
When her dagger met Falcrest’s arm, it wasn’t more than a nick, and he knocked her aside with the flat of his blade so fast she barely could tell if she’d really gotten him. But when she caught herself in a half-stumble, her gaze fell to the tip of her blade, where a spot of crimson glistened in the sunlight.
Got you,she thought at him, and when she dared meet his gaze again, a barely contained smirk on her face, she wasn’t prepared for the approval glimmering in his eyes while the rest of his expression featured the angry captain ready to punish her.
“Vednis, Frost, you come with me.”
He didn’t look back to check whether they were following as he marched off the training grounds, and after a nod from Hand Sil, who was standing among the onlookers, lips pursed and arms folded over her chest, both Frost and Lory hurried after the furious captain.
Lory’s stomach tightened with anticipation of the sort of reprimand Falcrest had in store for her. Nothing good could come of this; she should have known. She should haveconsideredhow he’d react when she actually met his challenge. She should have failed.
He’d have mocked you for not even trying, the voice at the back of her head reminded her.Or worse, killed you for dismissing his order.
Lory struggled to keep pace as Falcrest hurried down the hallway, Frost on his heels. Both men walked with purpose asif this wasn’t the first time they were taking this route around an unfamiliar corner and through a black steel door, behind which a set of unpolished stairs led down, down, down into a humid basement.
Lory wasn’t certain she wanted to know what she’d find at the end of their path, but as long as Falcrest didn’t drag her down there alone, he would probably not slit her throat.
He might have Frost do it—or have him freeze her to death.
Or knock her out with a punch to her face and send her into a deep, nightmare-riddled sleep where he could haunt her with his dreamweaver powers.
With every step, Lory’s heart beat faster, her palms turned sweatier, and the dagger, still featuring Falcrest’s blood, nearly slipped from her hand as she grasped it more tightly.
“Where are we going?” Her voice was a rasp of dread as she dove into the near-darkness at the base of the stairs.
No answer. Not even a grunt.
With her movements as silent as the stone floor scattered with occasional specks of gravel would allow, Lory followed Falcrest into the underbelly of Ashthorn Ward.
“How many levels does the pyramid have?” Frost wanted to know, much to Lory’s surprise, speaking before Falcrest did. She hadn’t seen the man volunteering words to anyone.
“Three basement levels, that’s all you need to know.” Falcrest’s tone was anything but reassuring.
“Any reason why we need to know that specifically?” Lory was aware she was pushing her luck, but he’d just responded to Frost’s question, so why not to hers?
She’d just proven she could draw blood from the best fighter the academy had to offer, and when she stared at the back of Falcrest’s head, boring for answers, no small amount of pride filled her. Perhaps she wasn’t as skilled as Frost or as swift as Tabi, but she was effective—another thing growing up on the streets had taught her. Not a victim but capable of so much more—a survivor.
With a sharp turn, Falcrest stopped at another steel door, shouldering it open before responding from the other side of the threshold, “Level one is special training rooms and common storage. Level three is the ice pit—at least that’s what the service staff calls the hole in the ground that serves to keep foods they want to preserve through unnatural cold.”
Frost glanced at Lory over his shoulder with a knowing expression. “I guess it’s time to freeze the ice pit again.”
Lory wasn’t sure what shocked her more: that Frost had spoken yet again or that there was a playful ring to it she’d never believed the usually self-contained, if not hostile, man capable of.
“You help them with cooling the pantry?” Again, her words simply came out.
