Chapter 16
Sixteen
Ivy
“It may create a prickling sensation,” Casimir says as he dabs a thin brush into the little pot of burgundy paste he brought with him. “But it shouldn’t actually hurt. If it does, let me know, and we’ll wash it right off.”
When he brings the brush to my chest, I hold myself perfectly still. The touch of the paste does set off a faint and not uncomfortable burn—but the more prominent sensation is my heated awareness of how close we are, our bodies just inches apart.
With his courtesan training, can he tell what I was getting up to with Alek an hour ago?
I had just enough time to dunk myself in one of the bathing rooms before I met Stavros back in his quarters, but a renewed flush ripples under my skin every time my mind slips back to my interlude with the scholar.
It doesn’t help that I’m half-naked for this task. The typical spot where a godlen sigil is branded lies well below the necklines of any of my clothes, so Casimir brought me a thin towel to drape across my shoulders and over my breasts for some kind of modesty.
It’s not as if he hasn’t seen those breasts bared before. But he isn’t the only one in the room with me.
While Casimir paints the shape of Kosmel’s sigil on my lower sternum, Stavros paces from his desk to the sofa and back again. “You’re sure this technique will pass for an actual dedication brand? They’ll be far more suspicious if she shows up with a fake one than none at all.”
Casimir adds the thin horn-like points to the top of the sigil with a delicacy that has me suppressing a heady shiver.
“I brought some rouge to make sure the details are just right. But the mark this paste will leave behind is pretty convincing all on its own. I have a colleague who uses it sometimes when he’s working with a patron who might object to godlessness.
So far, no one’s called him out as a fraud. ”
“We don’t even know if the scourge sorcerers will want to check who I’m dedicated to,” I point out.
Stavros grimaces at me. “You’ll be in a much bigger fix if they do and you’re not prepared than if you’re more ready than you need to be.”
Well, he isn’t wrong about that.
Casimir steps back, and my next breath comes a little easier.
I meant what I said to Alek—he’s more than enough. I wouldn’t pursue anyone else. But that doesn’t mean the feelings that already existed have vanished.
“We leave the paste on for ten minutes,” the courtesan says, rinsing the brush in a bowl of water.
“Then we wipe it off, and I’ll touch it up as much as it appears to need.
The imprint should last at least a few days, but if you get called to another secret meeting in the woods after that, we’ll want to repeat this process. ”
I nod. “Hopefully it won’t take too many late-night wanderings to find out everything we need to know. Thank you for helping.”
Casimir gives me one of the warm smiles that still makes my pulse flutter. “Of course. I’m sending you out there with all the armor I can provide.”
Stavros clears his throat. “On the subject of combat equipment… We don’t know how thoroughly they’ll examine you in general. I’m not sure what they’ll make of a noblewoman carrying a whole arsenal of knives. I’d rather send you with as many blades as you can carry, but…”
“That might be more dangerous than going relatively unarmed,” I fill in. “Fine.”
I reach between the folds of my dress to detach the thigh-strapped sheaths. “I’ll keep one in my boot. It’s not unreasonable for a noblewoman to be a little concerned with self-defense. That’s my favorite knife anyway.”
Stavros rolls his eyes skyward. “Of course you have a favorite.”
I raise my eyebrows at him. “Don’t you have a favorite sword?”
His silent glower is answer enough.
Casimir goes to the latrine to wet a cloth at the sink, but when he returns, he simply holds it in his hands, considering me.
“If you get a bad feeling about the situation,” he says. “Worse than you’d expect, I mean—there’s no reason you shouldn’t retreat. You don’t know anything about them yet. They shouldn’t see you as a threat at this point. You could walk away if you need to.”
I smile tightly in return. “I suppose we’ll see.”
He doesn’t know that for sure. And it doesn’t really matter anyway.
I have to do this. The king is counting on us to take down the scourge sorcerers. I need to prove to Stavros that I can keep control over my magic.
What am I even here for if I back down now? I might as well flee straight back to the outer wards.
I might have to flee the whole city if Stavros decides I’m a traitor to this mission.
No. I’ve spent most of my life in hiding. I’ve finally found not just a purpose big enough that it might balance out the harm I’ve done but at least a couple of people who accept all of what I am.
I can’t give that up. I have to be worthy of this chance.
When Casimir removes the paste, the pinkish-brown mark that remains on my sallow skin does look an awful lot like the brands I’ve seen. As the courtesan gives it a tad more depth with his rouge, my lips curve crookedly.
“I hope the gods don’t see the imitation as outright blasphemy. I guess if any godlen would approve of this kind of trickery, it’d be Kosmel.”
Casimir chuckles. “He has given you his show of support before.” He touches my cheek with a graze of his fingertips. “Make it back safe, Ivy.”
My throat constricts. “That’s my plan.”
As Casimir gathers his supplies, Stavros steps toward the loop of cord the courtesan arrived here through. “After you’ve returned to your room, I’ll bring this back to its usual place. We’ll see you at tomorrow’s meeting.”
Casimir bobs his head in acknowledgment and farewell, aims one more gentle smile my way, and then vanishes through the cord’s magic.
While Stavros is sorting out the cords, I quickly don my chemise and pull up the front of my gown. I’m nearly done with the laces by the time the former general returns.
He eyes me with one of his inscrutable expressions and a brief twitch of his head, and an uneasier heat tickles over my skin. I have the sudden, misguided urge to ask him to come over and help me finish tying the laces.
As if he’d agree. As if I should even care whether he does.
I give them a few final tugs myself and smooth my hands down the skirt of my dress. Across the courtyards, the palace bell starts to ring out its longest series of peals.
Midnight. One hour to go.
I fold my arms over my chest and give Stavros a pointed look. “You know, you should probably at least make a show of going to bed. It’s not going to look like I snuck off on you if anyone notices the light’s still glowing in your window when I’m leaving.”
Stavros sighs, but he knows I’m right. He makes a vague motion toward me. “You have everything you need?”
A dry laugh hitches out of me. “As far as I know. It’s a bit difficult to be fully prepared for illicit meetings with mysterious figures.”
He balks for a moment longer, as if he thinks he can intimidate my power into staying under wraps with his frown, and then he stalks away into his bedroom. The door thumps shut behind him, but I don’t exactly feel alone.
I douse the lantern in the main room and sit down on the sofa. The darkness wraps around me, the quiet of the night feeling unusually ominous.
A tingle stirs in the back of my skull. Ivy? Julita whispers.
She’s returned from wherever exactly she goes when she withdraws from my awareness. I was starting to wonder if she’d end up missing our first foray among the scourge sorcerers.
She might not have minded if she did. I can’t imagine what horrific memories tonight will stir up for her.
I open my mouth and close it again, settling for simply tipping my head in response. I don’t think there’s much chance Stavros actually has gone to sleep, and I feel strange talking to her where he could easily eavesdrop.
Maybe I should get a bit of a head start on the whole sneaking out thing.
I pull my hooded cloak over my dress and hair before slipping out into the hall. The lanterns there have all been snuffed out for the night.
From around the nearest corner, I can hear someone stumbling between drunken giggles and someone else doing their best to shush them. Otherwise the staff halls are empty.
I turn in the other direction, toward the narrow hallway at the very back of the school that’s too cramped and dreary for the nobles to venture into unless they’re feeling particularly secretive.
As I walk, I veer from one side of the hallway to the other, keeping my senses alert for any unexpected quivers of magic. I don’t know how many enchanted creatures the conspirators might have created, but if they could use one to spy on me now, it seems likely they would.
Nothing catches my notice. I duck into the stairwell and pad down the spiraling steps halfway to the third floor. Then I sit down against the cool stone wall.
“Are you okay?” I ask Julita in a murmur. “I’m sorry—I didn’t know Alek would react that way.”
How awful must she have felt to finally have a moment to speak to him again only for him to shove her away?
Julita lets out a soft laugh. How could you have known when I had no idea either? Obviously… obviously he’s become even more attached to you than I realized.
Is there a bittersweet note in her voice? My ghostly passenger has made a good show of not caring about the men she assembled beyond their usefulness in tackling the scourge sorcerers, but I’ve noticed cracks in her facade.
She might not have believed it’d be a good idea to pursue anything deeper with them, might even have convinced herself that none of them would truly care about her beyond the unflappable, charming front she presented, but they mattered to her.
She was abused by her brother and his friend as a child, had no one around she trusted enough to turn to for help—that’d mess up anyone’s mindset.
Probably the only reason she trusts me is she doesn’t have much choice.