Chapter 29 #3
“Oh, definitely,” I snap, yanking my wrist free.
Falcen’s height forces me to tilt my head back to maintain eye contact.
“I was absolutely going to tell the man who tied me up and kidnapped me from my village, then dumped me in the catacombs before unleashing a Void widow on me that I have a disembodied voice inside my head. That would’ve gone over so well. ”
“I didn’t dump you in the catacombs. I placed you in the safest location within the academy at the time.”
His reasoning shocks me, but not enough to keep my mouth shut. “I’ve learned that nobody is safe in the academy at any time, never mind initiates, so don’t hold yourself out as my hero.”
Falcen retreats, his expression smoothing. “You’re right. The academy is unsafe, especially for someone like you.” He glances around the empty arena, lingering on the decaying patch where the widow fell. “Which is why we need to be strategic about what we report.”
“Strategic?” I echo, not bothering to hide my disbelief. “You just said we need to report my shape-shifting weapon and apparent immunity to Voidspawn venom to the Master Keeper.”
“I said we need to report this development.” His voice drops. “Not everything we saw today.”
Resolve carves into his features. The glyphs light up beneath his sleeves once more before settling.
“The widow recognized the Veilrot in your weapon, but no one else needs to know that. We’ll tell the Master Keeper your weapon malfunctioned because you’re still learning to control it, which isn’t a lie.”
I stare at him, trying to understand this sudden change of heart. “Why would you protect me now? After learning that I have a sentient voice that’s not mine inside me?”
Falcen’s mouth twists into something that might be a smile if it weren’t so bitter. “Because I’ve seen what happens to those who interest the Master Keeper too much.”
That sentence has so much subtext in it that I’m desperate to press him for details.
“Like you?” I ask softly, remembering the vision I had of him strapped to a stone slab, black pus dripping from his eyes and mouth.
Falcen’s eye twitches. “Among others.”
A tremor runs through him, so subtle I almost miss it. His hand moves to his forearm, fingers pressing against his sleeve where the tattoos have gone quiet. The movement seems unconscious, like someone touching a wound to check if it still hurts.
“These tattoos. Your soul-glyphs,” I say, nodding toward his covered arms. “I’ve never seen anyone else with markings like that. In fact, I haven’t seen another Elite with them.”
“They’re a mark of my rank. I’m the only one who’s achieved it at this time.”
“Liar,” I say, the insult slipping out.
Falcen’s nostrils flare. I prepare for another verbal lashing, but instead, he lets out a slow breath. “Observant, aren’t you?”
“When I need to be. What have they done to you?”
“Nothing that concerns you.”
“It concerns me if you’re going to collapse in the middle of training me,” I counter, nodding at the thin sheen of sweat that’s broken out across his forehead. “You don’t look well.”
“I’m fine.” His assertion comes out through gritted teeth.
But he’s not. I can see it in the rigid way he holds himself. His shoulders roll again, an involuntary motion that makes me think of an animal trying to shed its skin.
“You’re lying,” I say again, but this time my voice is gentler. “And you’re getting worse.”
The ember inside me stretches toward him again, and I feel an odd pull in my chest. She wants to help him, which is strange, because she’s never shown interest in anyone else’s well-being before.
“It’s nothing I can’t handle,” Falcen says, but his voice lacks its usual conviction. “It’s because of what you are, I think.”
“Because of me?”
“The necromancy, the Veilrot, whatever lives inside you, it’s affecting me in ways I’ve never come across before.”
I watch as he struggles over how much to reveal to me, my ember alert with an alarming amount of interest. She’s fixated on his distress in a way that makes me uncomfortable. I press my hand to my sternum, trying to contain the sensation.
“Does that also have to do with … what we did together in the archives?” I whisper, emboldening myself against the hurt before he even verbalizes it.
Falcen’s eyes track the movement of my hand. “I don’t know. But every time you use your magick, every time that thing inside you stirs, I feel the rot inside me respond.” Falcen inhales sharply. “Like a door being unlocked.”
My ember writhes with pleasure at his words, wafting like smoke beneath my skin. She likes this conversation, likes hearing that she affects him.
“Falcen,” I say. “What aren’t you telling me?”
He backs away, his jaw clenched so tight the muscles in both his cheeks jump beneath his skin. “Nothing that would benefit either of us to discuss.”
“That’s not fair. You know almost everything about me now.”
“Life isn’t fair, Verily,” he snaps, but there’s no real heat behind it. He just sounds tired. “Get to the infirmary. Have those ribs checked.”
I glance down at my torn corset and tunic, the blood now dried in a tacky stain across my training leathers. The pain has dulled to a persistent throb, but I know it’s nothing like what Davrin experienced.
“Will you be there?” I ask, unsure why I even care.
“No.” He turns away, his shoulders impossibly tense. “I have matters to attend to with the Master Keeper.”
I don’t move as he walks away, stiff and straight-backed as if he’s fighting against an invisible force field.
My ember seems to follow his departure, arching painfully in my chest until he disappears from view.