“Like I said, she’s an alchemist,” Rell replied, his grin fading as his tone grew more serious. “And we need one.”
Violette’s lips thinned as her gaze flicked to Elora’s satchel, then back to her face. Her skepticism was evident, but her silence stretched, prompting her to finally speak. “What’s your story?” she asked.
She didn’t trust these people but the weight of the room pressed on her. The mismatched furniture, the warmth of the firelight, it reminded her of Amara and the wards’ common room. It felt disarming in a way she hadn’t anticipated.
“I’m just trying to get to Kilfaire,” she said finally, her voice quieter than she intended. “Rell made me a deal. My alchemy for his protection.”
Violette didn’t look convinced, but her gaze shifted back to Rell. “You’re sure about this? Marron wouldn’t have been such a heavy bargain.”
“Look,” Rell said, stepping closer to her. “I know it’s not ideal, but we need her. Someone who actually knows what they are doing. We can't take out..." He paused for a fractionof a second before glancing toward Elora and then back to Violette. “We can’t complete our mission without a skilled alchemist. You know that.”
Violette frowned, her expression still hard, but after a long pause, she sighed. Her posture remained stiff, but her shoulders dropped just enough to show her reluctant acceptance. “Fine,” she said curtly. “But if she screws this up, it’s on you.”
“Deal,” Rell said smoothly, leaning lazily against the back of a chair.
Before anyone could say more, the sound of footsteps echoed down the hallway. Violette straightened, her sharp voice cutting through the room. “Rook! Get in here!”
The faint murmur of a male voice answered from somewhere beyond the hallway.
Rell smirked at Elora, his tone almost teasing. “Don’t worry. The rook’s harmless.”
No one was harmless, certainly not to a runaway ward with a bounty on her head. The unease that had been gnawing at her earlier suddenly flared as the footsteps grew louder.
And then he stepped into view.
Symond.
Chapter 7
Symond
She looked different, no longer the perfect student hiding behind Tehvan’s protection or a disheveled ward. No. She looked… hardened. New scars donned her chin and wrists but he knew she hadn’t suffered nearly as much as he had. It had only been a month since he left the nightmare disguised as a respectable school.
The moment her eyes landed on him, he saw it. Shock. Fear.
He felt a grim satisfaction rise in his chest as she took an instinctive step back, her hand gripping the strap of her satchel like it was some kind of lifeline. Her lips parted slightly, but no words came out.
“Elora.” He let his gaze drag over her, like a scalpel peeling back layers of flesh. It wasn’t just a look, it was a dissection, a method Thorn had used on him: to see beyond the surface, to cut through the defenses, to lay bare the vulnerabilities hidden underneath.
“Symond?” Her voice was trembling. Whether it was from fear or disbelief, Symond couldn’t tell. Her wide eyes darted between him and the others, as though she were still trying to piece together how he was here, standing in front of her, when he was supposed to be far away with the Ministry.
“You two know each other?” Rell’s voice cut through the silence, his sharp gaze shifted between them, missing nothing.
Elora seemed to struggle to find words to say.
“I didn’t think I’d see you again,” Symond said, his voice practically dripping with bitterness. His gaze flickered to Rell and Violette. They didn’t know him well, and he’d kept it that way on purpose. He wasn’t an open book, not with them, not with anyone. But now, thanks to Elora, some things he’d buried might start clawing their way to the surface. Of course,shehad to show up and ruin his chance to start over.
How was she even here? The last time he saw her, she was on her knees, playing servant to Thorn during the departing ceremony. It had been satisfying, watching her brought so low, stripped of that smug self-righteousness she always wore like armor. Leaving her behind had been a relief, a chance to forget her smug smiles, her pathetic sobs, everything about her.
And now here she was. Damn her.
Elora took a shaky step back, her hand brushing against the edge of the table behind her. “What are you doing here?” she asked.
The tension in the room thickened, choking the air. Even Rell’s usual ease was gone, replaced with a quiet intensity as he observed the exchange.
Violette, standing off to the side with her arms crossed, raised a skeptical eyebrow. “You brought her here,” she said pointedly, her sharp gaze slicing toward Rell. “Did you know she might be a problem?”
“I didn’t… well, maybe,” Rell replied, his eyes flicking between Elora and Symond. He stepped forward slightly, focusing on Symond. “What’s your problem with her?”
