Chapter 22
Twenty-Two
Lory
Lory barely saw the blur of black on limestone as the ashlings of all color factions made their way across the training parcours, her mind rotating around the fact that Khayrivven had heard her. Not a dream. Not a trance he’d induced. He’d actually heard her screamed thought.
Their five minutes had run out before Khayrivven could say anything more than, “Don’t tell anyone.
” They’d left the alcove, Lory first, hurrying toward the main door to the training yard, while Khayrivven had returned upstairs and entered the yard a minute later by jumping off the balcony where Lory and once spied on him and Anees training.
Students scattered with yelps and screams as he’d smoothly landed, sabers in his hands as if expecting an attack.
Lory’s heart was still pounding from the moment of panic when she’d watched him free-fall from the elevated structure, even when she knew Khayrivven was like a cat—always landing on his feet, but the image of him breaking his neck was something she never wanted to see again. Even in her imagination.
Now she was standing at the edge of the yard, at a safe distance from the ashlings who were being called one by one to enter the parcours.
Behind her, the air was warm but still cooler than the merciless sun beating down on the yard.
Khayrivven had taken up his post at the center of the parcours, arms folded across his chest and the silver hilts of his sabers glimmering behind his shoulders.
He seemed to be giving the trials his full attention, but judging by the glimmer of pride on his face whenever she met his gaze across the yard, his mind was on what had happened in the alcove.
He’d read her mind, but his reaction had suggested it was her achievement, not his.
Hadn’t he mentioned a long time ago that the Flames had possessed mind-reading abilities? But that sort of power hadn’t been seen in a long time. Perhaps he was the one exception. A Flame powerful enough to tap into a heritage so ancient. Perhaps he came from a line of mind readers.
There was only one way to find out.
This time, Lory didn’t even consider asking anyone else. If Khayrivven’s dreamweaving wasn’t safe because people would notice if they both fell into a trance, maybe his mind-reading was.
“Khayrivven?” She barely dared speak his name. What if there were others like him? Others who could listen in?
No response. Not even a whisper.
Wait—if he could read minds, it didn’t mean she’d hear him in return.
“If you can hear me, give me a sign, Khayrivven.”
Still no response.
Lory didn’t know what she expected, but definitely not Hadrian’s charming baritone.
“Allow me to join you, Miss Vednis.” He grinned down at her, eclipsing the sun with his tall form. His tousled, dark-blond waves caught the light in reflections of gold, and his natural, easy smile instantly put Lory at ease. So much at ease that alarm bells went off inside her head.
“Whatever you’re doing, stop it.” It was an effort, forcing herself to sound annoyed.
Hadrian’s smile only widened. “I’m not doing anything.”
“Yeah, and I’m not a criminal with shunned magical abilities who escaped the butcher’s block twice.” She shifted her weight, pushing away from the wall and folding her arms. “I’m serious. Stop messing with my emotions.”
Hadrian’s groomed eyebrows shot up. “I merely thought you could use some positive vibes. Your emotions seemed pretty messed up.”
The easiness in her chest coiled back into an anxious ball, oddly comforting.
“By messed up, I hope you aren’t implying that you’re spying on my emotions.”
Hadrian shrugged, the image of innocence. “Hey, I can’t switch my powers on and off as I please, the way you can with yours.”
They’d practiced enough together over the past days that Lory could securely say he was right. She could flip a switch in her head by now that allowed her to control when her fire made an appearance. No more going up in flames. “Fair enough. Is there a way to block you out then?”
Hadrian tilted his head. He’d mentioned it that day he’d told her about his powers, that he needed close proximity and that some people could detect when he was using his skillset. Anees was unreceptive to it, so there had to be a way to simply block him entirely.
“Not really. But with time, you’ll learn to recognize when my powers are at work.” He didn’t appear particularly happy to admit this fact.
“What’s wrong?” Hadrian leaned against the wall right beside the drainpipe that seemed to be an artifact from centuries past when this part of Brestolya had been lush and green.
The desert had spread from the heart of the continent until it reached the northern coast, the river Dun supporting only the areas close to its arms.
Lory shoved her hands into her pockets, her gaze flicking back to Khayrivven, then searching the yard for Tabi, Thal, and Jarek. “I’m just a little jumpy today. My friends are in the trials, and I can’t afford to lose them, too.”
She didn’t need to explain that she meant after Aiden, because out of all the people at Ashthorn Ward, Hadrian was one of the few who had appreciated Aiden as a friend and ally.
The Gilded phantom jerked his stubbled chin in the direction of Khayrivven’s segment of the parcours, where four black-clothed figures were running across the roof mockups. “Tabi is doing great, it seems. No one is as fast as her.”
Lory followed his gaze, finding Tabi climbing the side of an obstacle, her form impeccable and her speed impressive.
Thal, Jarek, and Eira Moonfell were a few feet above her, slower than the woman but steadily climbing.
“Looks like those three are holding up traffic,” Hadrian commented, his easy smile still in place. Nothing seemed to faze that man—at least not his facade.
He’d just finished speaking when Lory noticed a tall, lanky form climbing at the top of the group making it down the wall. She’d barely recognized him as Brycon when he kicked his long leg at the ashling beneath him, sending off a chain reaction.
The woman under him—the one he’d hit in the face—dropped like a rock, tearing Jarek down with her as she disappeared behind the obstacle blocking Lory’s view of the ground. The students watching the spectacle collectively held their breath as another ashling lost his handhold, and another.
“Shit—” Lory didn’t make a conscious decision to run, her feet swallowing up the dusty ground as she squeezed through the spectators.
She didn’t care what people would think, including the Triad, who were throning on the highest platform at the side of the yard, overseeing the trial.
Like a desert lion hunting for prey, she flitted through gaps, not stopping for shouts of complaint, until she reached the edge of the parcours, where three bodies lay sprawled, their limbs sticking out at unnatural angles.
All three of them didn’t move.
“Jarek!” She noted the male form of the body closest to her, and her chest constricted like a thousand ropes were being tied around it. “No—”
“Up here, Lory!”
Lory’s heart stopped as she craned her neck to find a wide-eyed Jarek suspended between Thal and Tabi, both of them clutching one of his hands while holding on to the wall with the other.
He’s fine, Lory told herself. Breathe.
“I can’t hold you much longer,” Tabi shouted, and Jarek held so still, Lory would have believed he was unconscious had his eyes not been wildly searching the wall for a foothold. “You’ll need to grab the wall.”
“There’s nothing to grab.” Lory had never heard that level of panic in Jarek’s voice, not even when he’d almost plunged to his death during their first Veiled test.
Unless Khayrivven had shared his cat-foot trick with them, they were too high up to jump. They wouldn’t survive the fall.
Fuck. Use your magic, she thought at Jarek, but the rules of the trial were clear. No magic, unless the Triad explicitly allowed it.
Just as Jarek was lifting his leg to search the wall for a crevice with the toes of his boot, the Veiled Hand stepped to the edge of the obstacle, peering down at the scene.
“Let go of him, or all three of you will fall,” he said with the icy voice of the captain, and Lory’s heart froze at the verdict hidden in his words.
Sacrifice Jarek to save yourselves.
A glance at the ashlings holding on to the wall for dear life while they waited for the path to be cleared was enough for Lory to understand that none of them would care if Jarek died.
Just another casualty, another ashling not strong enough to survive Ashthorn.
One of the third who was bound to not make it.
Khayrivven couldn’t possibly mean it. But his words were final.
Lory covered her mouth to stifle a sob as Jarek looked up at where his large hand was slipping from Tabi’s smaller one.
“It’s all right. You can drop me. I won’t haunt you if I break my neck.”
Lory didn’t question why she could hear him, even when it wasn’t, by far, the shout from before.
Tabi merely shook her head. So did Thal. “No fucking chance,” he ground out, his voice breaking from the strain and his own fingers slipping around Jarek’s.
Think, Lory, think. There had to be something she could do. Something that would save her friend.
None of them had been allowed their weapons for this part of the trial, so they had no accessories to work with, but Lory did.
Both Thal and Tabi were determined to hold on as long as they could, ignoring Khayrivven’s order.
She had a heartbeat to make up her mind. If Tabi lost her grip on Jarek, he might find a handhold, but chances were slim he’d be able to grab onto it before Thal would lose his grasp, too.
With a sigh of relief, she grabbed the dagger at her hip and drew it from its sheath. The metal sang as she ripped her arm back, then flipped the weapon in her hand, pinching it by the tip of the blade.