Chapter 6
Six
Ivy
“What blasted book are you reading now?” Stavros demands as he strides into his quarters, back from another briefing with his contacts in the Crown’s Watch.
I bite back a snarky remark about how he should be glad I’m reading rather than tossing my illicit magic around. Somehow I don’t think the joke would go over well.
I tuck the book’s ribbon between the pages to save my spot.
“It’s a journal written by a cleric who ran one of Prospira’s temples under Darium rule.
She claims that Prospira chatted with her from time to time.
I’m trying to figure out how true that is and if it could tell me anything about what Kosmel wants with me. ”
Stavros pauses at the chest by the window.
He retrieves his preferred prosthetic for the combat class he’s about to teach—the broader hooked metal loop—and screws it into the harness around his handless forearm.
“And has it been at all enlightening? I certainly can’t comprehend his interest in you. ”
I’m used to his acidic comments now. This one doesn’t even sting.
Well, it barely does.
“I don’t know,” I admit. “Her overall grasp on reality seems pretty shaky. And the things she mentions Prospira saying to her so far are, like, what to have the temple cooks bake for breakfast. It’s hard to believe a godlen would care.”
After reading her account, I’d almost be convinced I hallucinated the voice I heard… except that would mean the man glowering at me and two of our colleagues hallucinated Kosmel’s sigil too.
“Better dictating the breakfast menu than encouraging one of the riven,” Stavros mutters under his breath.
I narrow my eyes at him. I might not be reckless enough to throw my unwanted power in his face, but I don’t have to sit silently while he lambasts me.
I get to my feet. “I noticed you have quite a few novels in your bedroom. Maybe you’re only harassing me about my reading material because you can’t do much reading yourself these days. My offer to assist with that still stands, you know.”
I say it mildly so he can’t accuse me of mocking him. An honest gesture of generosity from the monster he’s housing will irritate him more than if I returned his insults.
Ivy, Julita says warningly. You know how grouchy he gets about his sight.
But Stavros simply lets out a sound that’s half huff, half growl. He doesn’t dignify my comment with an answer.
I’m going to count that as a win.
And I need all the wins I can get. Because the truth is, when the former general marches over to join me, looming more than a foot both taller and broader than my gawky frame, every nerve in my body peals out in alarm.
And, okay, there might be a tiny bit of attraction still tangled up in there too. The man does cut an impressive figure.
But he isn’t simply putting on a show of being intimidating. The tension coiled through all that brawn is very real, and very much directed at the threat he considers me to be.
Isn’t it wonderful that our current plan requires me to go out into the hall and shout at him?
“Any interesting news from the Crown’s Watch?” I ask, possibly holding on to the slight hope that they’ve rooted out all the major conspirators without me needing to do anything further.
The sound Stavros makes in answer is definitely a growl this time.
“Nothing at the brothel they inspected last night. And no suspicious activity around the orphanage. Now that Wendos is in custody, the scourge sorcerers must be taking extra precautions. Whatever other sacrificial victims they have in the city, they may have moved them to a new type of hiding place.”
Wonderful. Then as far as we know, our chances of uncovering the rest of the villains depend entirely on my fledgling plan.
I rub my arms to stop the creeping of my skin. “We’d better put on a good show, then. Are you ready?”
Stavros’s glower returns. “Your performance is the one that really matters here, Thief. But we already know how good you are at lying.”
My fingers curl into my palms. I simultaneously picture slamming my fist into his arrogant face and have a minor panic attack imagining the consequences of doing so.
I drop my hands to my sides instead and jerk my head toward the door. “Let’s get out there.”
Stavros pushes past me without another remark, leaving me to trot obediently at his heels like a good little assistant. I plaster a serene expression on my face as we head out of the Domi.
I’m dressed in a thin shirt and trousers this morning, because supposedly I’m going to be helping him with his combat lessons. But with the thick leather vest strapped over the shirt, it doesn’t feel that much more comfortable than my frothy dresses do.
A pang of homesickness for my old tunic and breeches, for my old life without the judgmental stares and sneers, reverberates through my chest. I was never exactly safe roaming the streets, stealing from corrupt merchants and leaving coins for the needy…
but it was definitely simpler than my current situation.
I don’t even know if I’ll be able to go back to being just the Hand of Kosmel after we’ve taken down the scourge sorcerers. Not now that my secret is out.
One problem at a time.
We hustle into the Quadring and up the stairs to the professors’ offices. In theory, we’re grabbing a piece of equipment from Stavros’s office before the class.
Actually, we happen to know that Ster. Torstem finishes up his own office hours right around this time.
As we emerge from the stairwell, Stavros drops his voice so no one other than me will make out his voice. “Just up ahead. Third door on the right.”
I nod. “Got it. Five paces past it?”
“That sounds reasonable. Then you’d better talk fast.”
“I think I can manage that.”
Our hushed conversation will sound terse even if no one who notices it can distinguish the words.
Which is perfect, because five paces past the door to Torstem’s office, I raise my voice as if getting caught up in an argument we’ve already been having.
“You can’t really think they’re handling this problem properly. ”
Stavros spins around to face me. I jar to a stop with a flash of very genuine discomfort at the fierceness of his expression. “And you think you know better than the royal family?”
My magic stirs at the hostility vibrating through the air. I clamp down on it, reminding it that this is just pretend.
We’re speaking loudly enough that our voices should travel through Torstem’s door now. I think I catch the creak of the floor on the other side.
Just in case, I add a little more rancor to my words. “They’re stuck doing the same old thing. It’s obvious the gods aren’t happy with them.”
“So you’d prefer for the royal family to let the city collapse around our ears?”
I set my hands on my hips, restraining a shiver at rephrasing the words Wendos said to me in the tower. “Sometimes a few things need to get knocked down so we can build something better. Even the All-Giver thought so.”
Julita shudders inside me. And may the Great One have smote the first guy who said that.
Stavros steps closer—for the benefit of anyone who happens to peek out, but I can’t help suspecting he’s enjoying looming over me. Letting me feel his frustration with this whole situation.
“You’d better watch what you say out loud,” he says. “You’d better watch what you’re thinking.”
“I’m only saying the truth!”
He scoffs harshly. “Then you’re a bigger idiot than I thought. Get out of my face until you’ve had a chance to get your head on straight.”
That’s my cue to take off. Tamping down the racing of my pulse, I give an exasperated sigh and storm off down the hall.
My heart isn’t thundering so loud I miss the squeak of hinges behind me. Or Ster. Torstem’s voice, low and even, just before I round the bend. “Having a little friction with your new assistant?”
A flicker of triumph cuts through my unsettled thoughts. He’s taken the bait.
Now Stavros can vent to Torstem a little about my ridiculous attitudes—attitudes we know the law professor will secretly approve of.
That did seem to go smoothly, Julita says. It’s hard to tell from her tone whether she’s actually happy about that fact.
She has more experience with scourge sorcery than any of us, having been subjected to her brother and Wendos’s experiments as a child.
While she hasn’t openly balked at our plan, I can’t imagine she loves the idea of getting closer to people who bolster their own power through others’ pain—or hearing me spout off their philosophies.
I round the corner—and find myself face to face with Romild, the leadership student who had designs on the position as Stavros’s assistant. My self-appointed rival lets her lips curl into a sneer.
She probably heard at least part of our argument. She’s thinking about how Stavros must be regretting giving the position to me now and no doubt hoping she’ll get another shot at it.
The sense of her judgment shouldn’t rankle me the way it does. Although Stavros is definitely regretting working with me, just not for the reasons she thinks.
I simply glower at her and stalk on to the stairwell.
I keep a peeved expression on my way out of the building. At the sight of a blue-uniformed figure who’s appeared by the Domi’s side entrance, my pulse kicks up a notch.
I’d veer off toward a different doorway, but these days I’m as likely to find two soldiers someplace else as none. So I stride ahead as if my mind is focused on some matter too important for me to acknowledge the man standing guard.
He doesn’t stir from his post a couple of paces from the entryway. But as I walk past him, a faint tingle of drifting magic quivers through my riven soul.
My stomach lurches. Did he just cast a gift toward me?
What will it have told him?
I continue on into the building, but rather than heading upstairs to Stavros’s quarters, I turn down the hall. At this time in the morning, students with later starts to their school day are still trickling in and out of the dining hall, but I don’t pay them any mind.
I slip out through the front entrance, past two other soldiers who don’t give me any impression of magic at all, and ease around the outside of the building.
Not for the first time, I’m grateful for the grand statues the college’s administration erected around the grounds. A looming marble figure of some famous cleric hides me behind his sweeping stone robes.
Propping myself against the base of the statue, I peer toward the guard who used his gift.
What’s the matter? Julita asks.
I pitch my voice low. “I caught a whiff of magic when I passed that soldier. As if he was working a gift on me.”
It doesn’t appear that the effort gave him any reason for concern, though. The man, who looks young enough to pass for one of the college’s students, is still standing tall and stiff in the same spot next to the doorway.
I study him for a few minutes longer. Several students and a professor meander through the doorway, and he doesn’t so much as twitch in reaction.
If he’s casting magic toward them too, it’s slight enough that I can’t pick it up from this far away.
It can’t be unusual for soldiers to have at least some small gift they claimed with a dedication sacrifice. Even among the poor of the outer wards, I knew at least as many people who’d given up a piece of themselves for a little power as not.
I don’t see any obvious markers of a sacrifice on the man. No missing fingers or bits of facial features. But there are plenty of possibilities I wouldn’t be able to easily notice.
Casimir gave up several of his back teeth, replacing them with gems in the typical courtesan fashion. Julita told me she sacrificed her lowest two ribs.
There’s only so long I can keep watching the soldier without it looking odd to anyone who starts watching me. I commit what I can see of his face to memory, so I’ll recognize him if we cross paths again.
Short chocolate-brown curls that gleam under the morning sun. A strong but elegant nose. Creamy, unblemished skin.
Gods above, if he ever decides soldiering isn’t to his tastes anymore, I’d bet the companionship division would welcome him as a courtesan. He sure as shit doesn’t look as if he’s seen a whole lot of combat.
What if it’s for his magic rather than his fighting skills that the Crown’s Watch recruited him?
I pull myself away from the statue with a knot I can’t shake in my gut.
If the king is using gifts to seek out sorcerers… who’s to say they won’t pick up on the sorcery I’m trying so hard to suppress?