This time, it was the guard with the bucket who answered. “Best way to keep the likes of you under control.”The contents of the bucket clicked and clanged as he shook it. “One wrong step, and I’ll pour that over your head.” He bared his teeth in a dangerous grin.
The absence of the other guard’s and Falcrest’s laughter told her he meant it.
“I won’t try anything.” At least not, while she was underground, where an escape was impossible.
“Good.” Khayrivven leaned in a few inches, taking her shoulder in a firm, yet gentle, grasp, and guided her toward the door. Just as she started walking, her first step bringing her closer to him, he whispered so only she could hear it, “I’m sorry.” It was really more of a toneless motion of his mouth, but she read the words in his eyes before he drew up a barrier between the role he played and whatever emotions were screaming to be released.
It hurt more than she’d have liked to admit, watching him lock that man behind a facade once more. Her biggest regret, that she hadn’t gotten to know the real Khayrivven.
“Let’s go.”
They hiked up the stairs, down the corridor leading to the mess hall, while Lory tried not to think about Khayrivven’s saber an inch from the back of her neck. The two men walking at her sides reached for the massive door, pulling it open, and waited for Lory and Khayrivven to pass before they closed it behind them, the heavy lock clicking into place the way it did at every breakfast with the ring of the second bell.
Where usually hundreds of students bustled between the rows of tables, deadly silence reigned, while on the platformat the front, Nefetari Brunn, General Ycken, and a man Lory had never seen before stopped their hushed conversation.
He studied her with vigilant black eyes, his deep umber face unreadable. The colorful light from the enormous stained-glass window behind him painted purple and orange accents on his shaved head, while his black uniform gobbled up the light like it was made of shadows. He wasn’t a person anyone would have usually paid attention to in a room full of people—average height, average build, and not one feature that would mark him as particularly handsome or ugly—but the way he carried himself as he took a step toward the edge of the platform spoke of the type of command and self-confidence that would make it hard for anyone to reason with him.
“So, you’re the little flame-spitter everyone’s been so upset about.” His deep voice rumbled through the room like distant thunder, and Lory’s legs instantly became reluctant to cooperate.
“Keep walking.” The point of Khayrivven’s blade poked her between the shoulders, a reminder that he wouldn’t break his act for her. Whatever he was protecting, it had to be so much bigger than a street rat with the wrong type of magic.
What had Anees said?Khay would do anything to protect what he believes in. If only she knew what that was. He certainly didn’t want someone to die for a magic they didn’t choose, or he’d have executed her the moment he suspected she had fire magic.
At the front of the room, Khayrivven stood aside, sheathing his saber over his shoulder, and watched with a stone-likeexpression as one of the other two escorts kicked her in the back of her legs, pushing her to her knees. Her heart was already racing, but her palms turned sweaty as uncomfortable warmth spread along her hands.
No fire.She couldn’t start burning in front of all of them, or all would be lost.
“State your name and color, ashling,” Nefetari Brunn ordered, stepping to the front of the platform and glancing down at her in a replay of what happened when she was first caught for stealing Lord Airmal Ycken’s satchel.
Today, Lory didn’t have it in her to fight. “Elory Vednis, blue.”
The bald man cocked his head in silent assessment while General Ycken gestured at the table behind him, where he and Brunn usually took their meals. “It’s been a while since you last ate, Vednis. Perhaps you’d like a bite?”
As he shifted to the side, he revealed a tray with a jug of water and a bowl of what could have been stew or cereal or nothing at all; Lory couldn’t see inside from her spot at the foot of the platform.
She’d expected a butcher’s block, not three people studying her with curiosity and the offer of food. No matter how much she tried not to show how hungry and thirsty she was, the sound Lory’s stomach produced gave it away.
“Come sit with me.” Ycken beckoned her to the platform with a wave of his arm, and when she glanced at Khayrivven, he dipped his chin.
Ignoring the throbbing pain in her knees, Lory got to her feet and made for the three narrow steps on the side of the platform.
“A little faster, ashling,” the bald man said, tapping his boot against the floor. “We want to be done before the others arrive for dinner.”
Dinner—so it had to be late afternoon. But when Lory checked the window, the sun was still falling in from the east. Breakfast couldn’t have been finished more than an hour ago.
With a deep breath, Lory forced down the lump in her throat, sat down on the chair Ycken pulled out for her, and in the bowl, she spotted raw meat.
“You can have it, Vednis. You merely need to cook it first. Perhaps with a little …fire?”
As if on a command, a stroke of heat licked up her spine, and her hands trembled. She couldn’t. They had seen her magic when she’d helped Thal, yes, but if she showed her magic now, who knew what they’d do.
“That’s not a suggestion, Vednis.” The third man stalked closer, sitting down across from her and watching her with those two black pits beneath his brows. “Cook the meat with your magic, fire-spitter.”
The blood in Lory’s veins boiled as fear rushed her system, memories of the hours she’d spent with Khayrivven in the stone chamber on level two of the basement filling her mind. Strong emotions triggered magic—anger, lust, fear.
This was definitely the latter.
As she searched the room for Khayrivven, she discovered he had joined Brunn and General Ycken at the side of the table, his blade sheathed behind his shoulder and his arms crossed like there was nothing and no one capable ofpenetrating the shell of solid rock he’d built around his emotions, but in his eyes, a flicker of that fire she’d noticed before.
