I leave allowing him to think that because I know how to make the ink, I also know how to make the vessel. Ignoring the uncertainty twisting in my gut that I will one day soon be put to a test that I’m not sure if I will pass.
The days slip by, and when Arina finally wakes, she’s nothing more than the shell she was before Thal’s card. She’s mindless, wordless…a living doll. Her hands are limp in their restraints, eyes vacant.
“It’s better than the screaming,” Gregor says gently. I know he’s trying to be optimistic—to find some way to reassure me—but it rings hollow. “At least she doesn’t seem like she’s in as much pain.”
“She’s in a soul-crushing amount of pain.” I gently sweep a strand of hair from her forehead. She doesn’t so much as blink.
Not for the first time, I think of trying my Major on her. The silver card I showed to Thal is hidden with the golden Death card in a room deep in the academy—somewhere only I know the path to after some magical modifications. It’s unpredictable, but could any shifted fate be worse than what she’s enduring?
Ultimately I don’t. Thal’s card showed me the power of the Majors and the danger of using them. Elorin’s cautions about spinning the wheel ring in my ears. It’s not worth the risk.
My hands fall back into my lap with a soft sigh.
“Let’s unbind her.” I can’t bear to see her tied up for a day longer when it’s so clear that she’s not dangerous. And we have more help now.
Gregor hesitates for a second, then nods.
My one reprieve from Arina and the Worldkeepers, and all the other demands upon me, is Kaelis.
Almost every night, I make my way to Kaelis’s chambers. The doors are never locked. In fact, the one to his closet is slightly ajar. Priss is waiting for me—the little shadow of a cat with her glowing yellow eyes—on more than one occasion. She keeps me company in the dining room as we wait for her master to return from whatever business he’s conducting.
Kaelis fills me in over dinner on what’s happening beyond the walls of the academy. The pace has been picking up in the search for the great criminal Clara Graysword. His father is hunting for the new Chariot. Ravin seems to be content, for now, with supporting both their father and Emilia in their hunts. Enough so that he’s not been actively bothering Kaelis and the academy for an almost abnormally long stretch.
We dine. We scheme. And then he brings me to his bed and lavishes affection upon me as though I am something to be worshiped.
Finally, when All Coins Day is just under one month away, something breaks the strange cadence of the days.
A letter awaits me one morning, carefully placed upon the center of my desk.
The wax seal is unmistakable: a silver sword on a black background, the mark of Oricalis. Opening the letter, I scan its contents as the students arrive. By the time I’m finished, the last of the bells have rung, and the class is seated. I hold it aloft as I announce, “There is to be a social event tomorrow here at the academy.” My voice carries over the room in the near-immediate hush they’ve all fallen into. “Nobles from various clans will be visiting to meet with you all. This is an opportunity for them to report back to their clans on what students are worthy of keeping an eye on during the All Coins Day demonstrations.
“Think of it like a practice run for what’s to come at the Selection Soiree before All Coins Day,” I continue in a calm and even manner. “There isn’t much time to prepare your skills between now and tomorrow afternoon. But that shouldn’t be where your focus rests. Instead, put your efforts toward making the right connections with the members of the clans you want to join. They will no doubt be making a short list for the Selection Soiree and All Coins Day to follow. Among nobility, it’s often not what you can do, but who you know.”
Despite my reassurance, nervous energy still lingers in the air throughout the class. The same trepidation clings to them as they gather with the adjunct professors—myself included—the next day and march as a pack to a lavishly decorated room designed for gatherings like this.
The walls are adorned with intricate tapestries, each depicting a different Major—no doubt the clans represented here today. I find it interesting that the artist’s depiction is off on just about every count from what the actual Major cards look like. A long banquet table of refreshments runs the length of the room down its center.
The nobles are already here, outnumbering the students two to one, which makes the gathering feel a bit like a calculated attack. They move with almost practiced steps that suggest they’ve carefully planned who they’ll go to first and what they’ll say.
I don’t recognize any of the nobles. These aren’t heads of families, or High Lords or Ladies—people of such rank wouldn’t waste their time on such a small event. So the clans sent their “lesser” members:the second sons, cousins, and relatives on distant branches of the family tree. The only way I can tell their allegiances is through their pins, sashes, and fine embroidery, in the symbols and colors of the clans they represent.
Luren stands awkwardly at Dristin’s side, speaking with someone from Clan Chariot—Dristin’s clan. I can’t hear their words, but I can tell he’s making an effort to endear her to them. Luren is doing her best, but I can tell from here how stiff and awkward she is.
Sorza has been swept up by a broad-shouldered noble from Clan Tower. She stands next to Alor in a manner that feels almost…penned in. Deliberate. I can’t help but wonder if they received a directive from the king to ensure no other clans get any ideas. After all, Sorza’s destined for the castle and King Naethor’s direct command.
I can’t help but draw closer, curious if I’m right.
“And my sister?” Alor asks. There’s an edge to her words, even though she makes a good attempt to mask it with formality. “Any word on her pursuit of thecriminal?” Alor can’t even bring herself to say my name. She always was the sort to see betrayal and deception as two of the greatest crimes. A Sword through and through.
The man from Clan Tower nods, surprising me. I slow my step the slightest bit. “Emilia is hot on her trail. There’s been a recent breakthrough—evidence of a mountain stronghold where Clara might be holed up.”
I barely refrain from smirking and keep walking. They have no idea where I am, and it’s delightful. Emilia is still grasping at straws and using excuses to save face. I end up at the central table, taking a drink of punch.
Without warning, there’s an unmistakable shift. I feel him before I see him. Those gathered move a second after me, eyes turning as the doors open.
Kaelis has arrived.
He glides into the room with wide strides. His silver-trimmed coat catches the sunlight, casting an almost shimmering glow on the sides of his face.
