I’ll see you soon, Death-Summoner.
Winded, she rubbed her breastbone.Who said that?And why had it terrified her so much?
Bidding farewell to Telmar, she left his office in Safsher Hall and took the closest path to Aoran Tower. Snow crunched between her boots and cobblestone. Most southerners found the Month of Frost unbearably cold, but winter was an old friend to her after years in Arsamea.
She yawned, massaging her temples when spikes of pain cut into them.Wisdom and Ruin, not this again. Never mind the Order—at this rate, a constant lack of sleep would do her in first. She rested her throbbinghead against a passing ice sculpture for relief.I should’ve asked Telmar about this.
It had begun with an odd gap around her visit to the Stones Guild some months ago. A moment she’d forgotten but whose absence she could sense. One that remained oddly painful to recall. There had been a few more gaps since, during her walks home.
Sweet Lady Wisdom, don’t tell me I’m going mad. She scrunched her eyes shut, trying to reach for the memory. A shaft of pain speared her, snatches of sound and sunlight blurring behind her eyes.Albanus offering a bribe. A window looking out into the Stones Guild’s inner courtyard. And—
A third arrow of pain lanced so deep behind her eyes that she gasped.Wrath’s teeth!She abandoned the pursuit. A warm bath should fix everything. The memories couldn’t be anything important; she’d lost no more than a few minutes. Perhaps she’d dozed off while walking.
Close to Aoran Tower, she felt for the key around her neck that would take her through Kadra’s wards when a warning prickle raised the hair on the back of her neck. A second and she felt it again, a quiet exhale where there should have been none.
Shit. She spun, readying to attack, and stilled at the man in gray-green robes behind her.
“How,” he said ruefully, “can you always tell?”
“Who the hells are—” She froze at the sudden, horrified realization that sheknew. “You.”
“Good evening, Death-Summoner. I must say, I didn’t expect you to handle the Hearing so well, but I respect it enormously.” He grinned. “Even if it has delayed my plans.”
Find Kadra.Fear was a vise around her head, squeezing tight as the missing pieces of her memory reoriented into an uglier whole. “I won’t do it,” she whispered when he issued the same command he must have uttered last time and the time before. Stars burned behind her eyelids when he spoke louder, frustration edging into his voice. She didn’t move.
A muscle twitched below his eye. “Your will won’t hold forever. I want to have mercy on you, Death-Summoner. Help me do that.”
She had no chance at hurting him. She had to get out of reach before he—just move, godsdammit!She whirled around, muscles coiled to run, when he spoke again.
Then, the thought slipped away.
Sarai stared at the deserted path leading from Aoran Tower and wondered why she’d turned around. Her heart thudded like she’d run a marathon, sweat trickling from her hairline. She touched it with mild confusion.Gods, the things stress does. She parted the gate and quickly locked it behind her, only staring briefly at the odd shadow on the other side.
It almost looked like a person.
Shaking her head, she readied for the convivium.
He had never cared for winter.
Kadra drained his third wine bottle of the night and set it atop his overladen desk. Heat burned a path down his throat before the alcohol sank lower to soothe the ruined nerves of his spine. Enough to tide him through the next few hours.
Beyond the window of his office within the Academiae, Praefa and Silun crawled across a cloudless sky, throwing the courtyard below into sharp relief. In an hour, it would ring with applause as five hundred students graduated. At present, it hosted a game of fear, extravagance, and pedigree. A hunt where everyone believed themselves a predator.
Snow gilded the school into resplendence, embellishing the ice sculptures lining the cobblestone paths. Spheres of lightning illuminated colonnades bedecked with banners and baubles and noble families bedecked with more. Throngs split and interwove, rife with social-climbers eager to impress each other in a ceaseless circle of envy and hunger. A replica of his own graduation, nine years ago. Cassandane had gotten her wish. Nothing had changed.
The peel of an orange parted under his hands, the scent brisk and invigorating. He popped a segment in his mouth with a faint smile. A small pleasure. Oranges had been a rarity in his youth.
Steps vibrated up the staircase before the door to his office crashed open, dislodging a volume of the Distribution Act from a shelf and sending it into the roaring fireplace. No loss.
“Godsdammit, are youeating?”
He spared a glance over his shoulder. Cassandane had abandoned her much-malingered crimson robes for a bronze gown. One of several concessions she had made since becoming Head Tetrarch.
She rounded his desk to plant herself between him and the window. “You’ve a half hour before your speech! Even Sarai is out there, mingling,trying, while you’re watching us from on high!”
“My presence will not aid you.” It would upend the carefully delineated social lines along that courtyard. Enemy would align with enemy. Middle-class matrons would ingratiate themselves with noble families by cursing him. The last time he’d shown at a convivium to ensure Sarai’s safety had been equally eventful.
“Nevertheless, we must show everyone thatnothinghas changed.” She pulled the curtains shut with more force than needed. “We can’t alienate the upper classes in the name of reform when we need their backing. Tonight, we prove that the Tetrarchy has no intention of rocking the boat. This is how we hold on to power, andthisis how we move forward. In increments. Change can come once we’re established.”
