Instead of stepping into the elevator, he pulled Lory back into the crematorium, gesturing for her to follow.
Lory’s feet moved of their own accord as she crossed the room behind him, unwilling to pull back her hand and break the thin thread connecting them through the cold dominating her body despite the scalding heat radiating from the center of the room.
She’d known Khayrivven hated Ulder for what he’d done to his family. For holding Elina hostage. But he’d also abided by any rule the Triad had set for him, had done every cruel deed. Had broughtherto Ashthorn after hunting her down. He’d done everything to keep his sister safe. This was the first time he revealed that he’d been working against the King of Brestolya, and Lory didn’t mean the personal protection of the secret of her Flame heritage, but the systemic sort of resistance that could bring down kingdoms.
The rough walls stored the warmth like the limestone of the pyramid and the sun, and Lory was vividly reminded of what was causing the suffocating heat. Ashlings.Deadashlings. One of them a rebel.
“Where are we going?” Lory shoved down the sense of doubt creeping up on her. Hadn’t he said she hadn’t chosen? Whatever that meant. The leonthor had wanted her to choose soitmay begin. Whateveritwas… And now Khayrivven was dragging her through a secret underground crematorium, his iron hold on her hand suddenly more concerning than comforting.
He didn’t slow his pace as they rounded the room. “It’s best I show you.”
In the shadows between the torches brightening the space, all the way behind the cremator, Khayrivven stopped, dropping Lory’s hand as he opened a hidden stone door.
Behind it, a dark tunnel gaped, ready to devour them both if they dared set foot into it.
“I’ve had enough of lightless pathways for a lifetime, thank you very much,” Lory whispered, her doubts a sour taste on her tongue, but Khayrivven wrapped his hand around hers once more, conjuring a palm-sized flame with the other before she could pull away.
“There is no way back, Elory Vednis. You’ve guessed my truth, and now you need to know all of it.”
When he guided her into the tunnel, the smell of mold and decay hit her nose, her stomach ready to turn, but her determination to see this through was so much stronger as she reminded herself of what she’d reminded him not fiveminutes earlier. He’d vouched for her with his life. He’d saved her. He wouldn’t have done all of that had he planned to hurt her after all. He was finally letting her in.
The thought of becoming part of Khayrivven’s inner circle drove the ice out of her system, bringing back the heat, as they walked for minutes, Khayrivven a steady presence at her side, never letting go of her hand as if anxious she might bolt if he let her out of his sight for a heartbeat.
From time to time, his gaze flicked to her, and he studied her for a few breaths, his mouth opening and closing with words he wasn’t ready to share. After what felt like hours rather than the short minutes it took them to get to the end of the tunnel, Khayrivven opened another hidden stone door.
This time, daylight greeted them. Daylight, and cascades of caramel-colored sand shifting on ever-changing dunes. Khayrivven pulled her over the threshold, out into the baking heat of the desert sun, squinting as he gestured at the walls towering behind them like a mountain cliff. They were so high, Lory couldn’t even make out the top of the pyramids from where they stood at the base of the hill where Dunai’s palace had been built thousands of years ago.
Lory’s eyes adjusted to the brightness faster than she was used to, and when she listened hard, she could make out the sounds of steel clashing behind the monstrous barriers separating the hidden academy from the rest of the world.
She spun around to find the elegant limestone buildings defining the noble quarters at the foot of Dunai’s fortress, but wherever she looked, the desert spread like an endless, sandy blanket.
“This is the only way out of Ashthorn that the Triad doesn’t know about. It isn’t on any map of the academy. Knowledge about it probably got lost over the many centuries of this place’s existence before Ashthorn Ward was ever founded.” He pulled Lory closer, measuring her expression as if waiting for her to scold him, to yell at him, to tear away from him. “One day, I’ll leave Ashthorn Ward behind, and this is the path I’ll take to vanish in the night.”
There was no emotion in his voice, only fact. A determination so solid it was made of the same stone that fortified him when he needed to play the part of the ruthless captain.
Oh, he was ruthless, make no mistake. He’d survived because of it, and so had his sister. But there was more to it now than Lory had noticed before. Between the horrors he’d been limited to with the leverage both Ulder and the Triad held over him, Khayrivven was following a vision. It was shining bright in his eyes as they looked upon hers. “Free Criulias,” he whispered. “Ashthorn is a lie. And those ashlings killed every morning aren’t usually late because they dawdle. Most of them are suspected of being involved with the rebel movement threatening to break Ulder’s rule. Even if no one will call it that, they are executed for treason.”
Eleven
Lory
The room was filledwith colors and fabrics Lory had never seen in her life, and which were the exact opposite of her mood. After what Khayrivven had shared with her, she felt like the black and gray that Ashthorn Ward’s uniforms provided. She felt like a gag was in place to represent the truths the Triad had silenced by killing those ashlings.
Not stragglers, but threats to Ulder’s rule. Magic wielders with questionable loyalties. Even when life on the streets of Dunai had taught her that Ulder didn’t care when people believed he executed all magic wielders,this was different. Most ashlings came from reputable and crown-loyal families. They were expected to take the Triad’s word as law and to train without questioning the methods. All because they believed in Ulder’s rule the way their parents and their parents’ parents did.
Lory, however, wasn’t from one of those families, and had Khayrivven not vouched for her, she realized she’d have been long executed on the dais for her unknown allegiances. She’d have been yet another casualty along the cruel path of Ashthorn’s education of the magically gifted. A shudder worked itself up her spine.
“Don’t make such a face,” Anees reminded Lory, relentlessly browsing through the dresses hung on a rack by the far wall of the bedroom-sized space. The mid-afternoon sun painted patterns on the smooth, white marble walls, and under the window, one of the potted trees Lory had seen in Ulder’s palace when she’d been dragged there for her first verdict sat like a lonely reminder of a brighter, happier place. “We only need to find you a proper dress. You’ve worn worse before.”
The hint of humor sparking in Anees’s eyes told Lory she was referring to the flimsy blue thing she’d put on at Lu’Shen’s. The dress Khayrivven had torn off her body later as he’d given in to the explosive pull between them.
In her mind, she didn’t see the man whose gaze liked to undress her or the hunger in his expression when that tension pulled taut. It was the splintered version of him, torn between the duty to protect his sister and the duty to his people. There were so many layers to Khayrivven Falcrest she had yet to uncover, and something told her he was reluctantto reveal them. The look on his face when he’d ignited the fire inside the cremator was something Lory wouldn’t ever forget, no matter how well he played his part in this academy. She’d seen the Khayrivven who cared, and that man was someone her heart spiraled for.
“You’ll look pretty, trust me.” Anees tore her from her musings, waving her deeper into the room with one hand while she pulled out a pink gown that gave Lory the creeps.
“I’m not wearing that.” She joined Anees by the rack, ignoring the folded and stacked shawls on the table at the center and the velvet and satin dresses laid out on the bronze brocade divan at the side.
Anees cocked a brow. “The color or the cut?” The woman held the sleeveless, floor-length sheath up in front of her, pretending to be wearing it. “It would look perfect with your complexion.”
