Chapter 18
Eighteen
The student feints and then throws a quick punch that my arm whips up to block. I smile at him in what I hope is an encouraging expression, though I’m mainly attempting to encourage myself.
Or more specifically, to encourage my hidden power not to see this sparring session as a legitimate threat.
Just a little friendly exchange of blows for learning purposes. No mortal danger here.
No reason to start thrashing me from the inside out.
Stavros clicks his tongue approvingly and adjusts his student’s stance slightly to the left.
“You want to leave as little of your body open to attack as possible. You’re getting some good power with your strikes, though.
You never know when you might lose your weapon in a melee and need to rely on your fists. ”
The younger man lifts his chin toward me. “And I’d imagine I’d be up against opponents a little more formidable than that.”
The derision in his tone only makes me grit my teeth for a moment. I’m getting used to letting noble snobbery and posturing roll off my back.
But Stavros’s jaw ticks, and a chill enters his drawl that reminds me of when he held me at sword-point the second time we met. “You’d do best not to underestimate an enemy based on appearances. Or to insult my choice of assistants while I’m standing right here.”
The student blanches and draws up a step. He bobs his head toward both of us. “My apologies. Thank you for your help.”
I suspect the apology is mainly directed at his professor rather than me, but I can take a little satisfaction from it all the same.
And from the fact that despite said professor’s doubts, I have managed not to resort to the sort of dirty street tactics that might have shifted opinion about my formidableness in any of today’s mock fights.
Stavros glances at the students arrayed across the field and then nods to me. “I’m taking them back to the classroom now for a brief strategy discussion. You can tidy up here and then take your leisure.”
I give a little curtsy in my training leathers just because I think it’ll irritate him. “Thank you, sir.”
It’s not much leisure. By the time I’ve put away the equipment we were using, I can’t imagine I’ve got more than a half hour before the bell that’ll mean I need to get to today’s secret meeting.
And I have a task I’ve been wanting to attend to since yesterday. With Stavros otherwise occupied, it’s perfect timing.
Alek’s book didn’t include detailed instructions on how the prospective kings of old took their pipe fleece. Examining the dried leaves in the packet the shopkeeper gave me, I decided tea was the safest bet.
I swing by the dining hall to request a cup of hot water from the kitchen staff and hustle up to Stavros’s quarters. They’re empty, just as I hoped.
I retrieve a couple of the leaves I bought and crumble them over the water. The purple-green bits swirl on the surface, and a thin, slightly sour scent makes me wrinkle my nose.
Maybe I should have asked for some honey too. Oh, well.
Why are you trying the jazfern on yourself? Julita asks.
I figured she’d wonder, so I already have an answer ready. “I’d rather not risk poisoning the whole student body—or going to great lengths to administer this stuff to them all if it does nothing. So I’m going to take a weak dose and see if it has any effect on me or my magic.”
She doesn’t need to know exactly what that magic is. If my ghostly passenger has wondered why she’s never seen me overtly making use of my supposed talents, she doesn’t comment now.
While I wait for my tea to steep, I change into my favorite gown. Then I perch on the edge of the sofa-turned-bed and start sipping the tea.
The herbal bite to it makes me wince. I force down a larger gulp to get it over with.
It doesn’t matter how awful it tastes. Confining the monstrous urges that trickle out of my soul would be worth just about anything.
I’m halfway through the cup when Stavros strides into the room. I startle with a hitch of my pulse—I’d assumed he’d go straight to the meeting from his classroom.
The scent of the pipe fleece tea must be strong enough for him to get a whiff, because he gives the mug a quizzical glance before lifting his gaze to me. “What in the realms are you drinking—lemon rind mixed with pine needles?”
I make a face even though his assessment of the flavor isn’t totally off. “It’s a trick my grandmother taught me as a kid. Helps bruises heal.”
Julita takes on an arch tone. He’s not going to be happy if you have to admit you lied later.
I can’t answer her, and I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it. Unless it’ll actually help our larger cause, I definitely don’t want the former general thinking about reasons I might be focusing on suppressing magical abilities.
He chuckles like I expected, his eyes flashing with amusement and challenge. “I give you what you’ve been asking for, and now you’re complaining. Where’s the appreciation, Thief?”
The nickname doesn’t sound quite as insulting in his current tone. And he did offer a little trust by letting me get more involved in his lessons today.
“I have all the appreciation,” I say, matching his attitude. “That doesn’t mean I want to go around in frothy gowns with my arms all black and blue. A lady can have multiple desires.”
He walks over to the cabinet where I’ve learned he keeps his various prosthetics. “And here I thought you’d take any excuse not to wear those heaps of silk.”
I smooth my hand over the skirt of my turquoise dress, not just soft but clean thanks to the college’s laundry services. “I’m not saying I’ll be bringing them back to the fringes with me, but they might have grown on me a little.”
Or maybe I’m just enjoying not having the constant sensation of grit against my skin. I might as well appreciate that while I can.
“Hmm.” Stavros’s grin comes out. He twists off the metal hook-like hand he favors for hands-on training out of the harness around his forearm and picks out the clay one that looks the most like an actual hand.
“I suppose we could keep you in them for one of the practice sessions and you could play damsel in distress.”
I glower at him. “Now that you’ve finally let me properly participate, are you just looking for excuses to never do it again?”
“Oh, I’m simply thinking through all the possibilities.” The former general clicks his new hand into place and strolls over to his desk. He pauses there and glances over at me again. “You didn’t do a bad job of it this morning, I’ll admit. You moderated your more questionable tactics rather well.”
Gods above, did the great General Stavros just show respect for my combat ability? A smile tugs at my lips with more warmth than I’m sure I want to be feeling.
But hey, a victory is a victory.
“That sounds like an insult wrapped in a compliment, but I’ll take it!” I announce.
Stavros snorts and reaches for a sheaf of papers left off to the side of his desk.
Julita’s laugh rings out through my head. I knew you two would get along eventually.
I’m glad someone’s totally happy about it.
I haven’t seen the former general do much in the way of paperwork since I started living in his quarters, though I assume all professors must need to do some, no matter how famous they are.
A few times, Stavros has carried notebooks or scrolls off to his bedroom as if they contain matters too sensitive to be left in my reach.
Apparently he’s either decided I’m not a security threat or that there’s nothing all that delicate in these reports, because he squints down at them at his desk now. Squints and gives that odd twitch of his head, holds still and twitches again.
As I down the last of my horrid tea, the corners of his mouth tighten in a faint grimace. It occurs to me that there are obvious consequences of his battle injury that I hadn’t considered before.
I set down the mug and get up from the sofa. “Do you have trouble reading?”
Stavros’s eyes jerk toward me again, darkening at the same time as his voice does. “What?”
“I just—” I motion toward the papers. “Julita told me that your injury affected your sight.”
The former general’s entire stance has stiffened, the tensed muscles bulging beneath his shirt. My pulse stutters.
For a second, I almost forgot just how massive that muscular form of his is, especially compared to my gawky body.
Stavros’s tone turns both colder and smoother than when he set his student straight. “I’m failing to see how that’s any of your business.”
Possibly I’ve misplaced my sense of self-preservation, or maybe I’m just sick of trying to keep my head down while everyone in this place slings venom at me.
I set my hands on my hips. “I was only going to suggest that perhaps if there’s nothing horrifyingly confidential in there, I could read them out loud and spare you the trouble. Assist, since that’s supposedly my job.”
Somehow everything about Stavros manages to harden even more, from his gaze to the set of his jaw. “I don’t need any assistance. Julita should also have told you that I can handle my affairs perfectly fine on my own.”
Oh, yes, Julita says with a hint of mocking. He gets by just fantastically. Other than when he needs to spend more than five seconds not being a prick to the woman who’s keeping me in this world.
A flicker of amusement at her remark must show in my face, because Stavros outright bares his teeth without my saying anything. “Do you have any other helpful suggestions? I’d think carefully about your answer.”
The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. He hasn’t moved, hasn’t made a single threatening gesture, but I see the ruthless general in him loud and clear.
“No,” I say thinly, and clamp my mouth shut before anything more impertinent slips out.
“Good,” he snaps. “Then why don’t you run along to the meeting, since apparently you’re itching for work to do? I’m sure Aleksi has all kinds of things you can read down in the archives.”
If he’s going to be that way, I suppose I will.