When Lory glanced to the platform at the front of the room, where the stained-glass panel featuring the battle with fire wielders and the leonthor throned, magnificent even in the low light of the setting sun, Lenya was locked in conversation with Nefetari Brunn. The Master of Veils hadn’t acknowledged Lory’s existence since she’d returned from the trials, and today seemed no different. Beside them, Ycken sat with Khayrivven, the two of them an unlikely pair that seemed to work together perfectly—at least when it came to the role Khayrivven needed to play in this academy. With the fear of Lenya somehow listening in on their conversations, she’d never askedKhayrivven how he felt about killing all those Flames on the way to finding her, but she had an idea he would have avoided bloodshed if it had been up to him.
Yet another reason to despise this place that corrupted people, made them into killers, into monsters, while giving them the sense of righteousness.
“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Lory murmured into her stew, ignoring the sideways glances the other Ashthorn students were still giving her.
From the other side of the table, Jarek nodded his agreement. “Did you hear what he did to that purple boy?”
Even Brycon, who’d been doing his best to pretend he wasn’t part of the blue group, turned his head, curiosity shimmering in his hazel eyes.
“Tell us.” Thal waved Jarek on but thought differently halfway through the gesture. “Wait—don’t. I don’t think I want to know.”
With a flick of his hand, Thal summoned a string of water from the jar at the center of the table, refilling his glass and then Lory’s, across from his.
“They say he found the boy snooping around the dungeons, and instead of giving him latrine duty or something, he stuck him in a cell with rabid prisoners to teach him a lesson,” Jarek rolled on, expression locked halfway between fascination and disgust. “Can you imagine the sort of power that man must have in order to get away with something like that? The rest of the Triad didn’t challenge his decision.”
Lead filled Lory’s stomach at the thought of who was imprisoned in the dungeons. If the purple student had beenthrown into a cell with the three Flames, who knew what had happened? They might as well have roasted him.
“Is he alive?” Lory barely dared speak the words for fear of another life lost and what would happen to Enya, Olive, and Hadrick if they’d killed him.
Next to Jarek, Eira Moonfell shook her head, her brown eyes darting to Jarek. Today, she’d braided her dark-brown hair and twisted it into a bun at the back of her head, the look better suited for training than her usual loose hairdos. “But they say it had nothing to do with the prisoners. Lenya killed the boy ashling himself.”
There it was again, that feeling that Lenya was drawing more strings than the rest of the Triad.
“May he find peace behind Eroth’s Veil,” Lory whispered, and Tabi inclined her head.
The first students were already clearing their tables when Lory allowed herself to take a longer look at the platform, her eyes homing in on Khayrivven, thirsting for the sight of him.
As if he felt her attention, he looked up from the item in his palm he was studying while he listened to Ycken. A tight knot of heat formed in her belly, radiating throughout her entire body. If only he could read her mind now the way he did in his dreamscapes, she’d ask him about the incident with the purple ashling, would ask if Enya, Olive, and Hadrick were all right.
Khayrivven’s face remained cold and stony, but even across the distance, she could feel his eyes burning.
“How’s thornling training?” Thal asked as he picked up his tray. He’d finished his meal, as had the rest of her friends,all of them waiting for Lory as if they weren’t anxious to leave her alone with Brycon.
Swallowing her last bite of bread, she shrugged. “Tough.” As if to emphasize her point, the angry bruise on her arm started throbbing as she followed Thal’s lead and lifted her tray off the blackened table. “Falcrest is making the Triad proud by giving me a hard time.”
As if he’d heard her, Khayrivven lifted the corner of his mouth into a smirk, dropping the object in his hand into Ycken’s open palm. Whatever those senses of his could do, she needed to find out soon. Maybe they could use them to their advantage. It would certainly bear some benefits, being able to share information over small distances.
“I can’t wait for thornling training,” Tabi announced with her usual sass. “We’ll finally get more direct support from hands and phantoms. Fuck, I can’t wait to become atested.”
“Knowing you, you’ll rise toashmarkedbefore everyone else in this Guardians-damned place.” Lory had to hand it to him; Jarek knew how to pay a compliment, and judging by Tabi’s responding grin, she didn’t mind one bit.
“I wouldn’t mind the trials being over already,” Eira threw in, her gaze bouncing between Tabi and Jarek as if looking for an invisible thread and coming up blank. “Honestly, we’ve been training so hard, and half of the students won’t pass the exams. It would be nice to know if I’ll make the cut.”
“You will.” Lory wasn’t as quick as Jarek to respond, but she agreed completely. Eira was one of the best studentswhen it came to Knowledge, surpassed only by Brycon, the know-it-all knowledgist.
“You’ve studied hard. I’m sure you’ll pass,” Brycon added, once more involving himself in the conversation when he so clearly despised Lory and usually didn’t want anything to do with them. “Besides, it’s only a limited number of books we needed to read. It’s easy.”
“Easy for someone who can absorb information bytouchinga book,” Eira quipped, rolling her eyes as she picked up her tray, too, following Thal to the counter.
Tabi and Lory waited for Jarek to get to his feet before making their way through the thinning crowd to drop off their dishes, leaving Brycon behind with some other blues.
She’d made it halfway to them when someone barked her name across the mess hall, nearly making her lose her grip on her tray.
“Vednis!”
Her stomach dropped into her boot, and she slowly turned, hands itching to reach for the butter knife on her empty plate.
This time, Lory identified the caller as General Ycken, who was standing at the front of the platform, gesturing for her to move her ass up to him. As she set down her tray and headed over, she didn’t dare a glance at Khayrivven, who was still sitting at the table, leaning toward Nefetari Brunn. The woman with the long, gray braid and mild lines on her tan face seemed to be murmuring something to him, her expression stern. Whether he was being scolded or given an order, Lory couldn’t tell, but she was ready to ask him the moment she caught him alone.
