“The art of Gilded, Grivor, is subtle. You might believe social protocols and dances to be beneath you, but I assure you, some ashlings haven’t had the chance to learn all of them in their fancy homes. Some of them still need to be shaped into gems, while a lot of you know how to sit, eat, speak, and move without embarrassing yourselves.” He didn’t need to turn his head toward Lory, then Aiden, in order for all of them to know he meant them. “Now, don’t think; that’s not what you’re here to learn. Listen to the music and follow our lead.”
Naturally, Ricca knew exactly what to do when Bleek tugged on her hand, leading her into a slow circle around him, changing his hand as she stepped behind his back, and guiding her back to her place.
“I’d be worried she’d ram a knife between my shoulders,” Jarek hissed at Aiden under his breath, and from the end of the boys’ line, Thal snickered.
None of this was funny, but it wasn’t half as bad as Lory had expected. No weapons meant no immediate danger of dying from a sharp object in her throat or between her ribs.
“Everyone, copy.” Bleek stood next to Thal, taking over his part while Thal awkwardly mimicked Bleek’s gracious paces and elegant hand movements.
On the women’s side, Ricca seemed to know by heart the counterpart of the dance, her steps not in the slightest unsure despite her boots as she set one foot after the other until Bleek and she met in the middle.
Lory did her best to focus on following Bleek’s instructions as he explained what direction to turn or what leg to shift their weight to, but a part of her kept shooting back to Riccalyn Graccia and her hatred of Lory.
Bleek led Ricca in the same circle, Lory’s hand landing in Aiden’s in an exact copy of their movements, the ice wielder struggling to choose which side was the right one.
“You’re a god with the sword,” Lory said, counting in her head with the beat of the music. “How come you can’t tell left from right when you’re dancing?”
Aiden chuckled darkly, deciding for his left hand and guiding her in the wrong direction. “Just like Bleek pointed out—I’m one of those who didn’t have the right upbringing.”
Lory gave him a grin—“Old news.”—and as she walked around him, changing direction and grabbing for his other hand, a tiny splinter of the constant fear residing inside of her fell away, replaced by a figment of lightheartedness. “No excuse to dance like a camel.”
Next to them, Jarek laughed, and Thal shot them a helpless look while the lutes, neys, and cymbals continued their melodious cacophony in the background.
“Again,” Bleek shouted over the music, and they went back to their initial positions, repeating the maneuver until Aiden chose the right hand and Thal no longer stumbled over his own feet.
Lory couldn’t tell how long they practiced, with new moves added every time they mastered something, and they were thrown back to the beginning. Ricca seemed to be the only one who didn’t struggle to keep perfect balance.
After the initial few rounds, Bleek withdrew to an observation position a bit farther back in the room, occasionally strolling around the dancers to correct postures or criticize their movements. Only when they were sweating, and the sun had heated the room to near-outside-at-noon temperatures, did he allow them to finish.
“Return to your colors, ashlings,” he instructed, picking his saber up from the side of the room. “You’ll be summoned for practice again soon.”
“I still don’t knowwhy they allow scum like them into the academy,” Ricca’s voice carried across three tables to where Lory was taking dinner with Aiden, Thal, Tabi, and Jarek that night. She’d made it through the Gilded class in one piece, a few sideways glances from Bleek the worst scolding she got when she nearly stumbled overher own feet in a spot turn. Ricca’s disdainful comments, however, had followed her all afternoon.
“I understand why they’d keep the ice wielder. He’s a machine. But the fire spitter…” another yellow noted, his freckled face full of hatred as he assessed Lory like a piece of scrap metal no one wanted.
“At least, his powers are useful to suffocate hers when she loses control the next time.” Ricca shrugged, giving Lory a smug look before turning back to her meal.
“Don’t listen to them,” Aiden murmured without pausing as he buttered his bread. Then it was back to Ricca and the group of yellows still rambling on about what a monster she was just because she’d been gifted with fire magic.
The fact that no one was sitting at the tables closest to hers didn’t help either. She’d expected people to avoid her, to be afraid of her, yes, but this was a new level of humiliating. Not even as a street rat had she been treated like this.
“They aren’t the only ones who think like that.” Lory took a bite of her fruit pie, chewing thoughtfully as she scanned the crowd. Too many heads were turned in her direction, and not one of them seemed pleased to see her as they whispered.
“They can all go to the darkest corners behind Eroth’s Veil for all that I care,” Thal grumbled, plopping a slice of fig into his mouth. “They have no right to judge you.”
Lory gave him a grateful smile, the confidence Khayrivven’s words had installed in her—that he’d never seen anyone climb like her—coming back to her mind. She had a power they feared, yes, but that didn’t make her any less capable oflearning and surviving. If anything, she was stronger now, the one magic that was a sure death sentence having put her in a special position. Her power was relevant to Ulder himself if she became an assassin killing in his name.
Instinctively, her eyes found the front of the room, where Khayrivven was sipping from a cup, his shoulders turned toward an animatedly talking General Ycken.
“What does the schedule for tomorrow say?” she asked instead of allowing herself to acknowledge the ache in her chest at the sight of the captain. As if called by her thoughts, his head jerked in her direction, eyes locking on hers.
A zing of the electricity charging the air before lightning strikes ran through her body, and at the back of her mind, a low murmur lulled her into a sleep-like daze.
“Not now,” she hissed under her breath, earning a sideways glance from Tabi, who had been listing the next day’s activities. “I need to focus.” Her words were for Khayrivven, though, and the hint of a grin on his features when she managed to pull out of his dream-grasp was almost as rewarding as when Tabi finished her list with, “Veiled training is with Falcrest tomorrow.”
Twenty-Two
When Lory strolled downto the training yard the next day, her mood had improved by the fact that people didn’t come near her, not because Aiden was her constant shadow but because they all were terrified of her, now that they knew about her magic. It was barely more awkward than having them believe Khayrivven set her on fire for her supposed attempted assault, and with Thal, Tabi, and Jarek standing by her alongside Aiden, she was by far less isolated than she could have been. Actually, she hadn’t felt as close to anyone since Evven.
