A collective gasp went through the crowd as Jarek started climbing again, making progress inch by inch, but making progress anyway.
He’d need a new boot, but he’d be fine.
Something that wasn’t as true for Lory if the look on General Ycken’s face was anything to go by. The Master ofSteel was standing next to Khayrivven, who stared down at her as if she’d just grown a second head.
“If the Triad decides to kill me for this, please remind them how valuable I am to King Ulder.”She tried to give her thought a humorous note, but all she earned was a dark expression that told her nothing about whether he’d heard her, and as Lory turned away, checking whether Thal and Tabi were all right, too, her gaze snagged on Brycon, who was still frozen at the top of the wall, his face ashen. If Lory didn’t know better, she’d be tempted to believe he was in shock.
When Lory visitedJarek in the Medica quarters that afternoon, she still couldn’t believe that the Triad hadn’t called her in for punishment. She’d spent the entire trial at the edge of the parcours, her heart hammering violently in her chest while she uselessly watched how her friends put their lives at risk to make it to the next rank:thornling.
She should say cannon fodder. All those magic wielders who’d come there under the illusion they’d be part of something greater, that they would protect their kingdom?—
Lory had skipped lunch, spending her break researching more on the academy’s hierarchy and understanding the ranks and insignia she’d never given much thought to.
Thornlingswere considered skilled enough to start their real education. A good portion of them would still dieduring training, even when breakfast executions were no longer on the table. Her friends were all safe from that, at least.
They were far fromtested, though, the rank that would allow for independent missions under supervision. Fortested, the true danger no longer lay within the walls of the Ward, but out there, in the Amrin Mountains, or wherever they’d be sent to ‘train.’ With their thin silver square insignia, they were rarer around the Ward than ashlings or thornlings, but on occasion, Lory had spotted one of them.
And then there were thephantoms, like Anees and Hadrian,testedwith the two diagonal silver lines crossing through the square insignia, indicating their extra role.
Ashmarked, the final rank, Lory hadn’t spotted at Ashthorn among the student body, since the graduates were all assigned to the field, protecting Brestolya—whatever that meant. It wasn’t like the Northern Continent was waging war on them.
The solid silver square insignia of the Ashmarked, Lory hadn’t seen on anyone other than the teachers.
“I would have thought you’d be pleased I got away with nothing more than a cut on my heel.” Jarek cocked his brow, the thin scar right above it wrinkling under his reddish-brown hair. “You know, with you saving my life and all.”
Lory shook her head. “Sorry. I’m just distracted.” By what the Triad might do to her for said saving. By the idea of Khayrivven being able to read her mind. By what had happened at the dance, which she’d never talked about with anyone. Her father was working for the King of Brestolya, not to mention the leonthor’s voice in her head, that shewasn’t sure to this day she’d only imagined—but that was a story for a different day.
With a smile, Jarek sat up on the cot by the wall, shifting his foot on the pillow where it was propped up, and waved her over.
The Medica quarters were perhaps the friendliest, coziest place in the entire pyramid with the way the light always appeared softened by the array of small windows peppering the walls. The furniture was more comfortable, cushioned chairs instead of hard, wooden ones. Carved tables with curved legs instead of straight, functional ones like in the mess hall, the bedrooms, and the classrooms. The feeling that they were the only place in the academy dedicated to life instead of death might have had something to do with it, too.
“How’s your foot?” She crossed the small distance from the door of the four-cot room and sat on the chair beside Jarek’s cot, running her fingers over the carved patterns on the armrest.
Jarek rolled his eyes. “Has been better. Hand Nahrit says it will take two days to fully heal and that he only won’t report you for not properly sharpening your weapons because that dull blade saved my life.” A heaved breath followed his chuckle. “Honestly, Lory. Thank you. I made my peace with death when I entered Ashthorn, but I’d much rather leave it on my feet than in a body bag.”
Leaning back in her chair, Lory studied the plain limestone ceiling, trying not to think of the crematorium beneath the academy, where Jarek’s body would have ended uphad he not survived the trial—where too many bodies would be burned over the course of the next hours.
The trial had demanded over forty lives, reducing the number of ashlings to seventy-eight.
Jarek pointed at the brown square on Lory’s bicep. “Next time we train together, we’ll have matching uniforms again. Actually, Tabi and Thal just left. They already got their new insignia.”
With a frown, Lory looked down at her arm. “You’d think they’d give us a celebration after surviving such trials.”
Jarek shook his head. “If you want applause for your achievements, you’ll need to go to the Academy of Performing Arts in Lapia. They celebrate every small success. At least that’s what I’ve heard.”
Lapia—
The lively capital of the southeastern province Lory had heard stories about. Arts and culture flourished there, while in Criu, people were fearing for their lives.
“I’m more a thrive-in-the-shadows type of girl.”
That earned her a grin from Jarek. “For someone who prefers to stay in the shadows, you’re putting on quite a spectacle whenever you get a chance.”
Lory couldn’t deny he had a point. She’d made a show of herself repeatedly with her fire magic before and had been put on the spot by the Triad. Somehow, hiding hadn’t worked out for her since the day she’d been caught in the streets. Again, Lory shrugged. “Doesn’t mean I don’t prefer the shadows.” This time, she thought of the dark alcoves where Khayrivven had kissed her breathless.
Jarek bobbed his head, obviously in thoughts of his own, and a silence spread that Lory couldn’t say was comfortable. She’d spent so much time with her friends, but never with Jarek alone. Somehow, he’d become part of their little group, initially only talking to Tabi, but without him, they wouldn’t be complete, even when she had no idea what to say to him now that they were alone.
Jarek seemed to feel similarly, because he awkwardly glanced at the wall, tapping his finger on his thigh, his pants ripped at the knee.
