Luc jerks his head. “Come on. We’re here to enjoy the party,” he says to Skylar. “Not on duty, I’m afraid.”
The woman shoots him a look that suggests that’s notentirelyaccurate, and the fourth of the group—a tall man in a battered gray mask—looks at Luc with something akin to hatred. So, not a cozy group of friends, then. But as Luc tries to lead them all away from her, she reaches out, grabs his shoulder. She can feel power coming from him, though nothing like what she felt from Zryan. Still, a sickening excitement curdles in her gut.
He glares at her hand and she removes it, not sure she trusts herself if she keeps hold. “I’m looking for a friend.”
The blue-masked woman smiles at her. “I can help with that.” She’s cocky, for a Bloodless.
Skylar smirks back, though her insides feel sticky, like she can’t fuck this up and already knows she’s going to. “Maybe another time.”
Are you here, Cam?
No answer.
“A friend of mine joined the army recently.”
Luc is watching her carefully, while Big Arms flexes his fingers. The man in the gray mask’s expression seems to flicker.
“Lots of people have joined up recently,” Big Arms says, and Skylar wonders if she’s imagining his careful tone. If he is using the word “joined,” like her, to mean something else entirely.
“His name is Cam,” she continues as evenly as she can.
“Never heard of him,” Luc says, and the way he looks at her, Skylar knows he’s taken against her.
“He’s a Projector.” Despite trying to stay calm, a bite creeps into her voice. “He was…” She swallows. “He would have arrived around five weeks ago.” She glances at the woman, who seems the most inclined to share.
“Sorry, sweets,” the woman says with a smile. “I’m Bloodless, we’re kept separate for the most part.”
“Look, there’s a lot of people in the army now, okay?” Luc says. “We don’t know everyone by name, and I don’t know any Projectors.” He sneers the word, like the power is beneath him, and the magic in her own veins flickers dangerously.
“They divide us up,” Gray Mask says. His voice is quiet, husky. He is staring at her like he wants a reaction—but she doesn’t know what that reaction is supposed to be.
“Divide you up?” Eastern camp. Southern camp.Champion.
“When we arrive at the holding area.”Holding area.Like animals. “They group us according to power grade. That’s how they decide which camp we go to.”
She nods slowly, ignoring the glare both she and Gray Mask are getting from Luc. “And the Champions?” She tries to make her voice sound casual, but it is breathless. “Which camp do they go to?”
“How do you know that word?” Luc’s voice is a snap.
She shrugs. “You hear a lot of things around the castle.”
“Is that so?”
“Yep. You know, scrubbing in the kitchens, servants gossip, et cetera.” The snort she gets from the blue-masked woman makes her think she’s not quite pulling off the undercover-servant chat.
“Well, if your friend is a Champion, he must be able to take care of himself,” Gray Mask says, voice even. “It’s only Primes who are chosen for that.”
She frowns. “My friend isn’t a Prime.”
“Well, he can’t be a Champion, then. Only the Primes are taken there.”
“Takenwhere?”
“That,” Luc says firmly, “is none of your business.” But does that mean he knows the answer? “We have to patrol now,” he continues, “so if you’ll just…” He waves her away.
“I thought you said you weren’t on duty.”
Luc cocks his head at her. “Are you Blooded, hmmm?”
