I groaned.
“It’s a rumor; it’ll go away, Anna,” Isabella said. “Next week, something else will get their attention, and it’ll be forgotten. Besides, he is pretty hot.”
I glared.
Isabella giggled and shrugged innocently.
I hoped she was right.
The next weekI was heading down the east corridor for my Aurkai training session when I neared the hall that Everson’s quarters were in.
My patience snapped as I thought about him, and I took a sharp turn. Everson was going to answer for this ridiculous rumor. It was fine if he didn’t like me for no valid reason whatsoever, but spreading bullshit rumors like this? No.
When I approached the door to his office, I heard voices. I stopped abruptly, alarm quelling my anger like a suffocated blaze.
A loud bang startled me, and I held my breath. What was going on in there?
Low, angry voices were setting off sirens in my head. They were speaking Valyrian, and I couldn’t understand a word of it. Briefly, I shifted, trying to see who it was.
Inside, against the wall, was Everson, glaring defiantly at Malakai, who had his hand at his throat. Malakai looked dangerous. Though smaller than Everson, he was in control, threatening Everson in snarling Valyrian.
I wished I could understand what they were saying. Malakai released Everson, and my heart jumped as I silently rushed down the hall.
I ran through scenario after scenario of what they could be fighting about, and there were hundreds. They were both pricks, so it made sense they wouldn’t get along. Everson must’ve stepped on the wrong Aurkai’s toes.
I paused, arriving at the location of my training session. Trying to shake the alarm of what I’d seen, I pushed the door open. Inside was one of the most luxurious rooms I’d seen inthe castle yet. Flames danced in the massive stone hearth at the center of the room. They called it the Pegasus Room, and now I understood why. I was drawn to the painting above the mantle—a sprawling landscape of rolling green hills fading into beach and a vast ocean. Soaring through the sky was a pegasus, its wings stretched wide, light rippling across it like molten gold. The details were vivid, impossibly real, and I half-expected to hear the beat of its wings or the distant crash of waves.
Chairs and sofas upholstered in rich blue fabrics with golden accents invited me in.
The fire crackled louder, and the air shifted.
He sat in the corner armchair, a leather-bound book in his hands. He closed it and set it on the side table, rising to his feet.
“Anna,” Caelan said. “Please, come in.”
I sank into one of the plush armchairs and glanced around at the formal setting, feeling suddenly uncomfortable.
“Why did you want to meet here instead of the training hall?” I asked.
“I wanted to discuss something with you,” he said. “We have been training a lot, and I wonder—do you feel that you are still progressing?”
I opened my mouth but faltered. Progressing? Lately, our sessions had been fairly redundant. We sparred, he’d try a different move, I’d figure it out and overcome it the next time. I supposed I was—but it did feel redundant.
“I don’t know,” I said. “To truly master the art, I need to be able to respond and anticipate moves that I’ve never seen before, and that has been challenging.”
He nodded.
“Something is holding you back,” he said.
I raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
“I believe that you could progress far more quickly than you are, but something is preventing that.”
“Like what?” I asked.
He set his glass down on the coffee table between us.
“Your past is no secret to us,” he said.
