Chapter 27
Twenty-Seven
Iflinch and slap my hand to the point of collision. As an ache spreads through my skull, the book flies the rest of the way to land in Tavonne’s hands.
“Oh, sorry,” Anya coos. “Did your big head get in the way of her book?”
“I think I need another one.” Tavonne reaches out again.
An even thicker volume flies off the shelf. I’m prepared enough to jerk to the side this time, but its edge still smacks against my jaw.
I resist the urge to rub the smarting spot, bracing myself for another attack. My fingers curl against the silk folds of my skirt.
I traded my soiled lavender gown for my favorite turquoise one as soon as I got back to the college. If Anya attempts to ruin this one, I might just have to do violence.
“Fantastic use of your gift, there,” I say to her friend. “I’m sure your godlen would approve.”
Tavonne sneers at my sarcasm. “Any book I feel I need will jump to my hand. Estera thought that was a worthy request. It’s not her or my fault if someone steps in between at the wrong time.”
I have to admit that would be a useful gift even if it’s being turned against me right now.
My magic vibrates in my chest. I hold on to my self-control with an iron grip, making my tone go haughtily cold. “I’d have expected someone invested in wisdom to find better uses for their time. What exactly do you gain out of assaulting random people?”
Anya sniffs. “Oh, it’s all good sport. We all need some entertainment. And you need to remember your place.”
Tavonne has gathered both of the books under her arm. “I might require one more—”
Before she can extend her fingers, a stern figure in a dark blue uniform strides into view.
The Crown’s Watch soldier scowls at the four of us. “What’s going on over here? If a daimon’s messing with the books, you need to alert us.”
He must have heard the thumps and assumed the noble students would never lower themselves to using them as projectile weapons.
Tavonne purses her lips, and Anya shoots a glower that’s almost a dare my way.
I’d take her up on that dare—except the power seeping from my broken soul has erupted at the sight of the guard. It surges up inside my chest, thrashing at me with a matching peal of alarm, faster than I can rein in the emotion.
Men like that kill sorcerers like me.
I have to make him leave. I have to escape.
My power has basically lost its mind. There’d be no reason for the soldier to look twice at me as long as I don’t use it.
But it flails against my hold, rallying for me to bring it to bear.
As I clench one hand behind my back, a chill lances down my spine. It’s only a matter of seconds before I pay for defying my magic’s call yet again.
I need all of them gone before I fall apart.
“No daimon,” I say hastily, whipping my mouth into a smile. “I simply had a clumsy moment.”
If I take the blame, Anya and her crew won’t see any reason to keep up their harassment.
Anya’s eyelids twitch with surprise, but the guard thankfully has no patience for wayward students. He motions briskly to the trio. “Well, get on with your studying or whatever you’re doing here, then. And you, be more careful with the books.”
The pain claws up through my abdomen. My voice shakes just slightly. “Yes, sir.”
Anya and her friends laugh and drift away, tired of their game anyway, but the soldier pauses and squints at me. I set my hand against the shelf next to me, doing my best impression of a woman who doesn’t need the support to hold me up while agony sears through my innards.
The guard lets out a huff and marches off, muttering something about “frivolous bints” under his breath.
I really don’t care what insults he assigns to me, because now I’m alone between the bookshelves again.
The pain spikes through my limbs. My legs wobble and buckle.
I give in to the collapse, sliding against the bookcase. Maybe if I let my body bend to the magic’s whim just a little, it’ll lighten up its attack.
My scars sting as my back bumps its way down across the edges of the shelves. I slump on the rug, my breath coming with a rasp.
Fuck, the pain is still expanding. Because a soldier simply spoke to me.
My magic rakes its claws into me deeper and deeper, my heart wrenching, my lungs burning. My head reels with the overwhelming ache.
I can’t help wondering if my soul has given up on trying to have a life and decided to tear its broken self apart instead.
I had a cup of pipe fleece tea this morning just for the sake of trying again. Is it possible the stuff is actually making my situation worse?
I’m tossing the rest down the toilet.
Julita’s voice penetrates the haze of my agony vaguely. Ivy! Ivy, what’s going on? You should call for a medic. Oh, this isn’t good.
My fingers brace against the floor. I can’t answer her, can’t do anything else at all.
Then someone says my name from outside my head.
“Ivy!” Alek’s voice is taut as he drops down next to me. “Smite them all, what did those beasts do to you?”
He assumes I’m in this state because of Anya’s harassment. Well, that isn’t completely incorrect.
“No medic,” I mutter through gritted teeth. “It’ll pass. I just need… to wait it out.”
“I don’t know…”
I shudder, and he lets out a choked sound. “Come on, let’s at least get you out of here so you can recover in peace.”
He slips his arm around my back and propels me upright. My feet stumble under me, and my chest hitches with a jolt of deepened pain.
“Just over here,” Alek says. “You can make it.”
The waver in his voice makes his reassurance less than convincing.
I manage to stagger with him to the doorway that leads to the archives. I make it halfway down the steps to the basement before another burst of pain spears through my gut and I nearly pitch forward to tumble to the floor.
At least there’s no one else around to see it. As much as I hate that Alek is witnessing this attack, he had the right idea getting me out of there.
I’ll have to remember to thank him for his quick thinking when I’m not on the verge of biting my tongue in two.
At my hiss of pain, the scholar curses. Bending down, he wraps his arms around me.
Alek is the slimmest of Julita’s men, but he proves he’s far from a weakling by swinging me up against his chest. His cool, citrusy scent fills my nose.
I’m vaguely aware of the tension in his muscles flexing against me as he hurries through the maze of archive rooms to the small one where we usually meet. There, he sets me down in one of the chairs near the desk.
“The others might have some idea how to handle this. Casimir has a little training in healing. Stavros is staff—if anyone can deal with Anya…”
He steps away from me, pulling something from his pocket. My head is swimming too much for me to follow the gesture.
Prickles jab through my lungs again, and I sputter a cough against my hand. Spittle flecks my skin.
I blink and stare at it, half-stunned.
Scarlet swirls in the droplets of spit. I’m coughing up blood.
That’s never happened before. Is my power doing real damage inside me?
I swipe the evidence away against my other palm before Alek can notice. The pressure in my chest seems to have lightened slightly, but my limbs only throb more.
Then Stavros is hurtling into the room through the conjured pathway. “What’s the emergency—” He jars to a halt at the sight of me hunched in the chair. “What happened to Ivy?”
Not him. Not him.
Of all of them, I can’t let the former general suspect what’s wrong with me.
“I’m not sure,” Alek says miserably. “She told me not to get a medic—maybe we should bring her to the infirmary after all. It doesn’t seem to be getting better.”
I suck in a breath, panic splitting through my pain. “It is. Better. Getting there.”
I will that statement to be true.
As Stavros storms over to me, Casimir arrives, his eyes wide with concern. Alek must have had some way of signaling them to come.
The courtesan takes one look at me and blanches. “Is she wounded?”
“I don’t think so.” Alek gestures wildly. “Anya and a couple of the women she goes around with came over to talk to her in the library. I couldn’t see what exactly they did, but they were obviously hassling her. And then I found her like this.”
Stavros lets out a growl and bends over me. “Which one of them did this? What did they do to you? I’ll make them pay for it myself.”
Casimir is at my other side in an instant, grasping my hand. “Where exactly does it hurt?”
Every-fucking-where. But as the men’s whirlwind of rage and worry distracts me, the pain fades more.
I raise my head, swallowing around a lump in my throat. I hate that they’re seeing me like this.
I have to make sure none of them suspect the real cause. They’d be celebrating my agony if they knew.
“I don’t know if it was Anya and her friends,” I say more steadily. “The pain came out of nowhere. Anyone in the library—it could have been a gift. Maybe someone noticed me paying attention to Ster. Torstem before?”
Stavros glances behind him at Benedikt, who I hadn’t seen coming in. “Have you heard of anyone at the college right now with a pain-provoking gift?” he barks, his stance still tensed as if he’s about to go into battle on my behalf.
Benedikt frowns. “I can’t think of anyone. Someone took a shot at Ivy?”
“Either that, or it was Anya’s bunch putting her in her ‘place,’” Alek says.
My next breaths come more easily. I push myself straighter in the chair, pretending my arms aren’t still tingling with splinters of pain. “It’s passing now. It was just to trip me up, like the drug before. Nothing permanent.”
I hope.
“Was Romild in the library?” Casimir asks, his forehead furrowed. “We weren’t sure if she might have been responsible for the previous incident.”
“I didn’t see her, but it’s a big room.” Better not to eliminate any possible suspects. The more they can spread around the possible blame, the less they can do about it.
And the less chance they’ll narrow the possibilities down to my monstrous magic.
Stavros shoves away from me and paces the room. “I’ll ask around. Someone has to know.”
“No,” I say. “I don’t want whoever it was finding out how badly they affected me. Alek got me out of there pretty quickly. It’s better if they think there wasn’t any point. Maybe they’ll give up.”
“It’s better if they’re never capable of doing it again!”
Julita’s laugh rings out lightly from the back of my head. Whatever else you’re going through, you have managed to get them awfully invested in you. Good job there.
I recoil inwardly from her flippant assessment of the situation. I haven’t been trying to… to “wind them around my finger” the way Anya accused Julita of doing to everyone.
Whatever concern they might have for me, I didn’t scheme my way into it. I’m just trying to survive.
Benedikt steps in to brush his fingers across my temple. “Someone came at both of our girls. That’s just not acceptable.”
Both of their girls. Me and Julita.
Stavros pauses. “Is she still there with you? The attack didn’t… dislodge her?”
The last of the agony vanishes under a surge of frustration. None of their concern is really on my behalf anyway, is it?
They aren’t worried about my well-being for my own sake, only as a vessel for the woman who clearly did have them all wrapped around her finger. Who mostly saw them as tools in her investigation rather than people.
“Yes,” I say tersely, “she’s just fine. And I’m fine too, now.”
I stretch my arms in front of me as if confirming that and then stand right up. My legs hold me steadily enough.
I won’t think about the faint smear of blood I’m hiding on my palm.
Alek eyes me with obvious skepticism. “You couldn’t even walk for a minute there. I still think we should have a medic look you over.”
I grimace. “And what? Make me look even weaker?”
Benedikt rubs his jaw. “We could have the Crown’s Watch keep an eye on—”
With a stutter of my pulse, I shake my head vehemently. “No. How can I get close to anyone who’s conspiring against the crown if I’ve got the royal family’s chosen soldiers trailing around behind me?”
The bastard’s bastard raises his eyebrows. “There is such a thing as taking a break.”
I glare around at all of them. “I’m here to complete a mission so I can get back to my own life, and I’m going to do that.
Whoever struck out at me meant to shake me up.
The last thing I want is for them to see I was shaken.
Or think I went running to any of you to help.
How would that keep our group a secret?”
“You’re my assistant,” Stavros starts.
I cut him off with a pointed look. “And at least half of the reason anyone’s harassing me is because they think you favor me unfairly. So let’s not confirm their suspicions, all right? Or maybe there will be real damage next time.”
He hesitates, and Casimir takes the opportunity to hook his arm around mine. “I think Ivy’s been through a lot today, and she could use some space. I’ll see that she gets some unwinding time. We can sort out any other ways we should respond tomorrow.”
His tone is typically gentle but firm. The other men exchange a glance.
Stavros’s shoulders flex, but he nods. “Make sure she’s all right, work your pampering skills on her, but see that she’s back at my quarters by the tenth bell.”
My thoughts are still more scattered than I’d like, but Casimir’s mention of what I’ve been through today reminds me of something much more important that went on earlier.
I catch Benedikt’s gaze. “Who was Romild waiting for this morning?”
He raises his eyebrow as if bemused that I’m bothering to ask that after what I’ve just experienced. “I wasn’t able to find out. She seemed to get impatient with waiting and left before anyone turned up.”
Damn it. I turn to the others. “Well, however she fits into this mess, we have to check on the girls from the orphanage that Ster. Torstem brought to the college in particular. Determine whether they really ended up at temples after their dedication ceremonies.”
Alek frowns, but Casimir tugs me with him before the other men can ask any questions. “Enough work from you, Ivy. You’ve had to deal with more than you could have been prepared for already. Let me take care of you a little.”
I don’t know how to argue without sounding totally unreasonable. And now I’ve told them the only part of what I learned that they can act on right now.
Maybe if I go along with Casimir, the others will back off on insisting we get some kind of retribution against my supposed attacker. At least until it doesn’t matter anymore.
“Yeah,” I force myself to say. “That would be nice.”
As the courtesan ushers me toward the wall with its hidden staircase, I realize I have no idea where he’s actually taking me.