“Hardly worth mentioning. I’ve had worse.”
I used a fresh cloth to dab the tincture over his injuries, and a hiss of relief fell from his lips. I knew the feeling, the instant cooling relief washing away the stinging pain, like rain dousing a sizzling fire.
“Better?” I asked, my eyes drifting up to catch his already upon me. Clearing his throat, he glanced away, flexing his hand before nodding.
“Thank you.”
Lips curving, I turned and made my retreat to the sink to wash my own hands. “A thank you from the notorious Roan Delmar? Should I write back home about such a momentous event?”
A quiet laugh surprised me, the sound rich and deep as I peeked over my shoulder. When our eyes met, he quieted, as if realizing he’d been caught in some strange act. His focus drifted back to Prince Kairen. “He’ll be alright?”
I shrugged, hesitantly moving to sit upon my own bed. “He seems stable enough, but I can’t know for sure without a Healer checking the injury, which you seem very adamantly against. What happened?”
“He was stabbed.”
“Clearly, dummy. I meanwhywas he stabbed?”
He shrugged and laid back upon Rena’s rumpled blankets. “We were patrolling, got separated, and he ran into a bad crowd. It happened quickly.”
“You’re lying.”
“No, I’m not.”
Scoffing, I crawled beneath the covers of my own bed. “If you’d beenjustpatrolling and he was injured, you’d have taken him to the Master Healers within the palace. You two were doing something you don’t want anyone else to know of, which is why you sought out Rena.”
He opened his mouth, but I held up a hand. “Don't tell me if you don’t wish to, Delmar. Curiosity already bit me the last time with you two, so keep your precious secrets. I’m going back to sleep, my first trial is in the morning. Wake me if his condition worsens and Rena isn’t back. I won’t be charged with treason for a dead Prince upon my dormitory floor.”
It was silent for a moment before he spoke once more, his voice tired. “Goodnight, little menace.”
My eyes fluttered closed, heavy with lack of sleep, at the table where I sat.I had awoken that morning to the room empty, neither the Kinslayer or the Prince anywhere in sight. All traces of them had been cleaned away. How I had slept through them scrubbing the blood from the floor or Rena healing Prince Kairen was beyond me, but I was thankful nonetheless.
I had thought it a dream when I first woke, a very odd dream, until I had seen the little paper upon my desk. Five simple words written in elegant curving letters, penmanship that belonged to neither Prince Kairen or Rena.
Thank you for last night.
The Kinslayer had far better handwriting than I would have thought for such a brute.
The room was filled with a tense silence as I sat at a long table, six other apprentices in matching long olive robes, threaded with black, were also scattered around at various other spots. Together, we waited, our shared nervousness palpable.
I wondered if any were also from Amori City or if they had travelled from cities or towns further away within Tavari's borders.
The Institute wasn't the only place within Tavari to take your trials; many cities throughout the Kingdom had various places to gain your Mastery, however many opted for taking them here. Generally it came with finding better work and perhaps a place as a Master within the Institute itself, the highest honor one could give a Master in their field.
My eyes opened, spine straightening as the door clicked open and three figures garbed in olive robes threaded with gold entered.
First came Cecila Devram, her gaze flitting over those of us seated before she took a seat at the long table near the front of the room.
Next was a man I had yet to meet, his dark hair and beard speckled with grey, his skin pale and tinged with an unhealthy yellowing lingering beneath the surface. He couldn’t have been older than fifty, yet he looked as if death itself was welcoming him with open arms. His robes hung awkwardly upon his gaunt frame as he took his seat at the table, leaving only the middle chair open.
The last Potion Master moved to sit between the other two, her hair a deep auburn that tumbled down her shoulders. Her skin ivory and flush with life, her deep blue-green eyes reminding me of the ice upon a frozen stream as she assessed us.
She appeared younger than the other two, but it seemed as if they deferred to her. I couldn't remember ever seeing her on my visits to the Institute with Merle, but then again I had merely accompanied her, never actually sitting in on the meetings she attended.
“Welcome to your first trial,” her voice high and sweet in the quiet room, “I am High Master Belcomb. To the left is Master Malek and to the right, who most of you have met upon your arrival, is Master Devram.”
A few gasps sounded at her name–High Master Belcomb. My own brows rose in surprise at the revelation. Head of the Potions Society, this woman created and regulated the inner laws of all Potion Makers, and she was overseeing our trials? I hadn't expected her to be so young. She couldn't have been older than her late thirties to early forties. How good must she be to hold such an esteemed position?
Master Devram stood then, a stack of thick packets in her hand as she began to move through the room, placing one in front of each apprentice, face down.
