To her surprise, Allaster answered her questions, albeit grudgingly and somewhat suspiciously. He probably thought she was plotting how to use each piece of knowledge against him, but he didn’t protest—which was a bigger tell than he could ever know. It meant her questions made sense in his understanding of her. It meant he didn’t think it strange that she was asking. It meant that when it came time to ask him other questions, questions like what was wrong with the Library, he might answer.
It meant he was beginning to trust her.
In truth, she didn’t understand her own wonder. It had been nearly a decade since anything had captured her interest in this way, and she couldn’t tell what it was about the information that drew her in so thoroughly. It felt like wading back into a dream in the early hours of the morning, when your mind was still lost in the magic, but you were awake enough to feel the blanket curled around you.
Even more than that, she had forgotten how much she liked to listen to people talk. You could learn so much about someone that way. What they did and didn’t tell you, what words they used, even how they said it. People were stories in themselves, and once there had been nothing she had loved more than watching a story unfold. After all, that was all a con was. A story she told first herself, and then her mark, until the line between her and it disappeared.
Now, she felt a little of that old magic returning, pulling at the thread that bound her memories of who she used to be before the darkness of Belvar. The person who used to listen to others talk, picking apart every element of their speech and demeanor so she could better cater her approach to them.
Take Allaster: He rushed through the names and powers of the artifacts but lost himself in long diatribes about their histories. Where they had come from, who had used them for what, how old they were. It told her he had a mind for facts the same way it told her he spent far too much time reading history books.
“Corynth? Are you even listening to me?” Allaster’s sudden shift in tone caught her off guard. She had been so focused on her assessment she hadn’t realized he’d been waiting for her to respond.
She pointed at a random artifact as if it had stolen her attention. “What’s that?”
Allaster followed her gaze to a highly decorative carving in the shape of a dragon’s head, his eyes brightening. “It’s a dragon whistle. The Avari royals have them carved after their dragons when they ascend the throne, and they become the new royal sigil. This one belonged to Queen Evnika, who died shortly before Avaria closed its borders. It was donated as a gift by the new Queen.”
The delight with which Allaster explained this transformed him completely. Gone was the heavy set to his shoulders and the ever-present twist of his full mouth, replaced instead by an earnestness that drew her in a little too readily. He had an interest in Avaria that went past mild curiosity, but where he had seemed almost desperate to retrieve the book on the topic from her that day in the library, this reaction was driven by wonder, not worry. And, for an instant, Kasirawanted nothing more than to ask him why, a disquieting desire she dismissed as only the need to understand her mark.
It wouldn’t be the first time you got in too deep, cautioned Loraya’s voice.Guard your heart, Kasira.
I know what I’m doing, she countered, even as guilt pricked at her. She wasn’t here to learn about magic and beasts and artifacts; she was here to do a job. Loraya would chastise her for getting distracted, for forgetting, even for a moment, what would happen if she failed. For Vera would not accept her best effort and an apology.
Either Kasira succeeded, or she spent the rest of her life in a windowless box.
WHENALLASTER LEFTher later that afternoon for a meeting, Kasira went straight to the arena. News of what had happened with Benlo had clearly spread, as several mages who had previously ignored her smiled when she entered, and one even went so far as to thank her. She had avoided training in public initially, not wanting to look threatening, but with the change in attitudes toward her, she was grateful to get back to daily exercise. It worked away at the constant energy that buzzed beneath her skin.
“Lana!”
Kasira slowed in her run around the arena, spotting May stretching on the far side with Fen and Carlia. She joined them to find Fen in the midst of recounting the ordeal with Benlo to May.
“I have to say, I didn’t think you were going to do it,” Carlia said to Kasira, her thick Jacari accent sharpening her words. A thin, beaded bracelet on her wrist clattered as she moved her hands, a habit Kasira had learned stemmed from the Jacari language’s use of nonverbal communication. “You looked terrified.”
Kasira turned her face away as if to hide a blush. “I was, a little. I still freeze when I see fangs. That’s why I’m here—I need to be ready to deal with situations like that in the future.”
Fen dropped into a lunge, and Kasira caught sight of somethingscaly tucked into a clumsily stitched chest pocket they had clearly added to their uniform themselves. “You’re not at all what Elyae made you out to be. She—ow, Car!” Carlia had elbowed them in the ribs with a pointed look, to which Fen only rolled their eyes. “El’s opinion of Eirlana is hardly a secret.”
Kasira winced. “Yes, Elyae’s made her feelings about me abundantly clear.”
“She simply needs a little more time to come around,” May interjected, releasing her ankle from a stretch that pained Kasira just to witness. “Be patient.”
“Speaking of people who hate each other,” Fen began with a gleam in their dark eyes. “Did you hear the news about Lady Aliul?”
“Lady Aliul?” Kasira asked.
“Lady Nyelle Yadora’s daughter,” Fen replied, reminding Kasira of the woman she’d overheard Allaster speaking with in his office. Fen waggled their eyebrows suggestively. “Rumor has it that Prince Laurens is going to propose to Lady Aliul at the week’s end.”
Kasira’s bewilderment was genuine when she said, “I did not expect that. I thought the Yadoras and Kalish royal family weren’t on good terms.” The Yadoras were, after all, beast sympathizers and the last of the original royal bloodline.
“That’s exactlywhyit’s happening.” Fen leaned in closer, and this time, Kasira was certain she saw something move in their pocket. “The Yadoras’ influence has been growing in court, and King Carthur feels threatened. He thinks by unifying their families, they won’t make a move for the throne.”
Carlia reached an arm over her head, leaning into the stretch. “Caveat being that Fen is prone to wild speculations.”
“That are usually right.”
“That aresometimesright.”
Kasira let a smile play across her lips, sharing in their amusement, but she filed the information away, along with a note that Fen was a good source of news. They broke into sparring pairs, at which point Fen removed a small, blue-scaled creature from their pocket. With its large, webbed ears and membranous wings, the sight of it stopped Kasira cold.
