Chapter 59
Gregor leans heavily against the doorframe, soaked through with rain and blood. He clutches his side. It’s either a wound or a severe muscle cramp—he pants like he’s run a mile. Blood streaks the side of his face. One sleeve hangs in tatters, revealing a gash.
“By the Twenty.” I rush forward, catching him before he drops.
“Sorza’s fine.” Classic Gregor to worry about others before himself.
“Good to know, but what happened to you?”
“I’m also fine.” He winces but lets me help him to the sofa where he sits heavily.
“Do not say ‘I’m fine’ when you look like you got into a fight with the King of Swords and lost.” I’m already pulling the Queen of Cups from my deck.
“I got it done.” A tired but satisfied grin.
The Queen of Cups sinks into him with a flash of pale blue, and his wounds knit. He was right: They weren’t too serious, since they mend quickly. “Silas’s family?”
“Both father and daughter made it; the Worldkeepers are seeing them out of the city by way of the passages to the desert right now. Sorza stayed to help while I drew the Stellis away.”
“What happened?” I ask.
He sinks into the cushions, exhaustion still heavy on him. “Stellis chased me.”
It makes sense Ravin would keep Silas’s family well guarded. “How many?”
“Four at the onset. Two into the academy.”
Cold panic prickles my skin. “Into the academy?” I repeat in horror.
“Relax. They’re dead.” He preens slightly. “You didn’t think I’d leave an open end like that, did you?”
“You killed two Stellis?”
“Don’t sound so surprised.” He chuckles low. “I’m better than you’re giving me credit for.”
“I’ve always known you’re good,” I say, somewhat defensively.
“I’m not ‘good,’ I’m fucking great, and you know it.” He nudges my shoulder.
“Thank you, for getting them.”
“You know I’d follow you to the ends of the world.
” He still wears a tired little grin. “Which will be soon now.” We both look to Arina’s room at the mention.
“Thal’s been doing good with her. They’re actually really impressive, not just as an Arcanist, but as a person. They’ve visited her almost every day.”
“I knew they were impressive, but I’m glad to hear it’s going well.”
Gregor attempts to stand.
I place my hands firmly on his shoulders. “You need to rest.”
“Now that I’m mended, I need to take care of the bodies of the two Stellis.”
I shake my head and then start for the door. “I’ll go and deal with the bodies.”
“I’ll take you up on that kindness.” He shifts, stretching out on the sofa. His eyelids are already heavy. The man’s exhausted. “They’re down by the bridge entry.”
I leave, descending into the passages.
If anyone else saw him go into the crypt in the graveyard…I debate crossing the bridge and closing it off. But the Worldkeepers need it to get through to Arina and to the Stone Citadel. Maybe I will after Gregor, Sorza, and I are inducted the day after tomorrow.
I find the bodies right where Gregor said they’d be: near the entry. One is slumped against the wall, throat bruised. The other is on his stomach, one arm stretched back toward the long tunnel in the bridge, as if reaching for help in Eclipse City. As if begging for escape. The man died crawling.
His head is nearly cleaved from his neck, a cut so deep it exposes bone and muscle. It was a brutal strike with a massive blade—larger than I’ve ever seen Gregor use before. But he has been training with the Worldkeepers…
“Damn, didn’t hold back, did you?” I mutter before dragging the bodies deeper into the academy that will now become their tomb.
By the time the sun is hanging low in the sky the next day, it’s impossible to tell that my hands were recently coated in blood and I was dragging bodies until the small hours of the morning.
The Selection Soiree is held at a manor owned by Clan Moon, where their nobles relax when visiting the city.
Tucked back on Starburst Row and perched on the cliffs that overlook the river, the manor has an understated marble facade that almost reminds me of a blank sheet of paper. Only a few narrow windows puncture the front of the building.
Crescent lanterns flank either side of the obsidian doors.
Identical lanterns inside line a vast entry that cuts straight through the heart of the house all the way to the large back veranda that overlooks the river.
Musicians perform on an elevated balcony: soft, delicate tones that are mostly harp and the oddest but most melodic hum of singing glasses.
I intentionally arrived late, allowing me to slip in without too much fanfare to the party already in swing. The second-year students are mingling with much more confidence than they did at the first gathering. They’ve all dressed to impress.
My own outfit is fairly understated by comparison. I’ve elected simple trousers, loose-fitting and pleated, a crisp white collared shirt, and a steel vest. Appropriate for the occasion as a professor. Unlike the over-the-top gowns Kaelis had me in last year.
I smile despite myself into the glass of sparkling wine that’s found its way into my hand. At the thought of him, my attention darts toward Kaelis. As ever, he’s dressed impeccably, in a suit of midnight blue with silver embroidery.
Pulling my attention from him, for now at least, I reassess the room.
The movement of the students and nobles is like a deck being shuffled.
Every conversation, every pause in the flow of people is like a quick spread to be read.
The veneer on almost every dazzling smile is thin.
Narrowed eyes and sharp looks are cast among the High Lords and Ladies and the other uppermost nobles in attendance, as if to ward off any who would dare try to lay claim to the students they want for their own clans.
One of those High Lords is making his way over to me, his daughter at his side. I take another deep swig of wine and ready my best smile. I’ve no idea why these two, out of all people, are heading toward me, but I must be on my best behavior for them.
“Father,” Alor says, stopping just before me, “this is Sophie Veillgar, the professor of wielding I mentioned.”
“Your High Lordship.” I bow my head and show the appropriate respect.
“My daughter has consistently praised your tutelage, Professor Veillgar,” Moreus Ventall says in that low, methodical way of his. He outwardly sizes me up, making no effort to hide it.
“I didn’t realize I had made such the impression.” I smile warmly at Alor, then at him.
“Any who can impress one of House Swords, and of Clan Tower, must be a worthy instructor indeed. Where did you say you were from?”
“Eclipse City,” I answer, and assure myself that he doesn’t see through my disguise. There’s no possible way. This is merely his nature. I saw it from our meeting at Fate Hearth last year. “It’s how I met Professor Thornbrow.”
“I see.”
“If you’ll please excuse me, my lord, Alor, there’s someone I’ve been meaning to catch a moment with.
” I don’t let my warm expression slip, but I also don’t give them the opportunity to keep me there.
Moreus has always made me uncomfortable.
And, more important, Luren has just emerged from a side room.
I am careful to maintain an unhurried pace as I move for Luren. She scans the room, as if looking for someone. Though I suspect I know exactly who she’s searching for.
“How’s it going?” I ask as I close the last of the distance between us, keeping my voice low enough that only she can hear me.
“I tried to get a word in with Liam earlier, but Dristin stole me away.” She sighs. “He thinks I don’t have a chance if it’s not Clan Chariot.”
“I think his concerns are more than that,” I mumble.
“What?”
“Nothing. I think I saw Liam heading for the veranda a little bit ago. I haven’t seen him since. Try out there.”
Luren glances over her shoulder at the parlor she just came from. “He’ll probably be coming after me soon.”
“I’ll deal with him,” I say. “Buy you enough time to rub the right elbows. Go find Liam.”
She nods, and we part ways in opposite directions. She heads for the balcony, and I go into the room she just came from. It doesn’t take me long to find Dristin. In fact, I nearly run into him as he leads a pack of Chariot nobles. No doubt hunting for her.
I manage to keep them busy, buying Luren enough time to sequester into a side room with members of Clan Star.
The second they wander off, I’m ready to sink into a glass of something cool and refreshing.
But then a figure approaches me from a quiet lounge off to the side, as if emerging from the night itself.
He’s a presence more than a person, announced by a breath of cool air and the thrum of familiar magic.
“Professor,” Kaelis says softly, his voice meant only for my ears. It’s the sort of voice he usually reserves for the bedroom.
I turn and meet his eyes. His tall frame cuts an imposing figure. The voids of his eyes meet mine, searching.
“I have an important matter to discuss with you, if you would follow me.”
I nod. I’ve no idea what he needs me for or why he’s daring to pull me aside in front of everyone.
But there’s something in his eyes. Something in the way he moves that has me following without a thought—has the world falling away to nothingness as his hand closes around mine the moment we’re out of sight.