A dog excited to see its master, Castor’s voice mocked her.Archpriest Rigel materialised next, the memory of his hand squeezing her shoulder:You forget who you belong to.
Lina brushed her arms, repulsion rippling through her.
Cynthia hesitated at the edge of the crossway, giving the hall a perfunctory scan.Her eyes widened a fraction when she glimpsed Lina; she reached and all but yanked Ione to a halt.
“What wasthatfor?”Ione complained, hands on her hips.“You know I’m in a hurry.You’re terribly rough sometimes.”
Cynthia murmured something and Ione jolted, pivoting so abruptly her plait almost hit Cynthia in the face.She squinted, her serious expression cracking into a wide, brilliant smile.
“Thereyou are,” Ione called, gathering up her dress and bounding down the hall.
Lina’s heart lurched.She couldn’t help it.There was such a sweet, strange pleasure in it, an unwarranted feeling of homecoming.That just being here could make someone smile so prettily.
“So you are alive!”Ione cried, nearly barrelling into her.She held Lina at arm’s length and made a show of inspecting her.“Mikau told us you’ve been ill.Given that you were feeling poorly the other day, I believed them at first.”
Cynthia slinked after her, her expression penetrating.“But,” she added, coaxing, “then we heard that River and the warden came down with the same illness, and very conveniently after you and River were seen dragging the warden half-conscious into his room.”
Lina suppressed a sigh.She’d told Kai the illness story was stupid; he’d said he’d rather people thought he was felled by a stomach bug over nearly losing a fight with Nalu.
Ione’s hands were still on Lina’s arms, warm and steady.“We were just about to storm the acolytes’ building to check on you, but I’m pleased to see you’ve made a miraculous recovery.”She grinned and leaned in, conspiratorial.“Is the warden actually hurt?Tell me he is.Was it River again?”She bounced.“Oh, I wish I’d been there!If River is right about the warden wanting to marry me, well, this ought to give him pause.”
Lina swallowed, registering with delayed relief that she was not in trouble – at least not in any more trouble than she already was.“I, ah, haven’t seen the warden today,” she began, “but I…”
Ione tilted her head, waiting patiently.A little wrinkle of worry formed between her brows when Lina still couldn’t find any words; her hands lowered from Lina’s arms, long fingers twining with hers.
So many lies.Lies had done well to protect her thus far, but met with Ione’s patience, her genuine concern, Lina was struck again by the depth of her falsehoods.Family members, friends, people Ione had known had been maimed or killed by pyromancers like Lina.She had seen the pain in Ione’s expression whenever she learned about another death, the tightness in her jaw from trying to stay strong, that same wrinkle between her brows.She’d heard her pray to Menon, privately, when perhaps Lina wasn’t meant to listen.
Why won’t you come?,Ione would demand quietly at the altar in her family’s flat.Why are you letting these people suffer?
Inevitably, Ione would find out about her.It was only a matter of when.
Ione squeezed her hands, bringing her back to the present.“Cynthia,” she murmured, and, understanding, Cynthia bowed and excused herself to check on River.
“Come,” Ione said then, tugging Lina with her towards her flat.“We’ll have some tea.”
Mutely Lina followed, glad at least for the tea.She could still taste the warden’s blood.
Even several weeks into knowing Ione, and after countless visits to her family’s opulent apartment, Lina felt like an interloper in these fine rooms.She peeked into the pristine kitchen as Ione flitted ahead; into the salon, at its plush cream sofas and blonde wood bookshelves and chandelier dripping with crystals cut like moon phases.No Penina or Ronan Artem, at least, both of them likely meeting with other high priests or attending to their own duties.Lina breathed a sigh of relief as she trailed after Ione through an ivory-wallpapered hallway lined with seascapes, glad she was saved from Penina’s furtive glances and Ronan’s awkward small-talk.
Ione’s bedroom, by contrast to the outer rooms, was like a cave: intimate and cosy, with deep-sea walls and furniture in dark walnut draped with rich velvet throws in ocean shades.Ione pulled Lina past their usual place at the round little table and instead led her to the palatial bed layered with pillows.
“Sit,” Ione instructed, before gently pushing Lina down.With that, she glided to the end of the room and clattered through a low cabinet for her tea set.
“Shouldn’t I be the one making you tea?”Lina asked, feeling calmer in the cool shadows, away from prying eyes.
“Nonsense, I’m practicing.”Her head popped out from behind the cabinet door.“Do you know how difficult it is to control water temperature?”
Probably about as difficult as maintaining a steady flame.Lina bit her tongue and managed an anaemic smile.“Some teas are very specific about it,” she said, her voice sounding hollow.“It’s quite rude of them.”
Ione laughed, a gilded chime that coursed through Lina like electricity.
You’re an attendant.Only.
Oh, how Castor would laugh.You’d think an Artem of all people would care for you?
Shut up, Castor, you’re jealous.
Ione dragged the little table over to the edge of the bed and arranged the tea set onto it, each movement measured, a beautiful fluttering of her hands.Ione misjudged herself at times, Lina noted; now, missing the handle of the teapot, sending an embarrassed little smile up at Lina.Squinting, she filled the teapot with steaming water and plopped in a teabag fat with rose petals, sending a cloud of fragrant steam into the room.
