Chapter 27
Twenty-Seven
Ivy
Idon’t know where the conspirators got the dress from. They must have felt it’d be too suspicious to send me back to the college in a dirty, torn set of training clothes.
They had me change by shoving a bundle of fabric into my hands and sending me into the cave to put it on. I swapped my shirt and trousers for the simple riding gown as quickly as possible, wanting to be out of the dank space.
Now, the silk skirt whispers across my legs as I stride back toward the river, the man who might be Ster. Torstem on one side and the swordsman on the other. The fabric is light, but it feels out of place in the wilderness around us. The brush snags on it, tugging it against my legs.
I pop the last bite of the cheese-stuffed roll they gave me into my mouth and force it down my throat. I didn’t really want to eat anything these psychopaths provided, but it’s late enough in the morning now that my stomach was gnawing on itself with hunger.
And if I’d refused, they’d have questioned my faith in them all over again.
I’m not sure how many of the other conspirators are following discreetly behind us and how many have hung back to deal with Benedikt. One of them—presumably the same woman who healed my finger the other night—approached me to seal the wound on my arm before I left.
I doubt they’re giving the bastard’s bastard the same courtesy.
As if he can guess the directions my thoughts have gone in, the possible Torstem glances over at me with a rustle of his shroud. “We didn’t enjoy the process of judgment. With such a major accusation, the gods demand an equally intense trial.”
The gods demanded it. Sure.
That’s a heap of cow dung if I ever heard one, Julita mutters, and I’m inclined to agree. If there’s one thing I know about the scourge sorcerers, it’s that they encourage pain rather than shying away from it.
Does he think I’ve forgotten how they ordered me to rip apart a rabbit and provoke a fight between the guards?
Of course, he doesn’t realize I already know the worst of their crimes: the immense sacrifices they demand of the children they con into joining their cause. Eyes, ears, hair, arms… Everything they can remove while remaining alive. Who knows what else on the inside?
Just remembering the sacrificial accomplices who’d crouched around Wendos in the tower makes my stomach turn.
I keep my revulsion off my face and concentrate on playing the role of devoted recruit. Even a loyal applicant would have a few questions about what just happened—especially one who isn’t supposed to know as much about the Order of the Wild’s practices as I do.
“What will happen to him?” I ask. “The man who accused me?” Better if they think I’m not even sure of his name.
The shrouded figure gives a shrug. “The gods will decide on the appropriate justice for his crime, and we will carry it out on their behalf. We can’t let such a betrayal of our principles go unpunished, of course. Those of us who embrace the All-Giver’s true will must support each other.”
How convenient that the ones who have so little end up supporting the ones with plenty, and in much more drastic ways.
“You can be sure he won’t threaten you again,” the man says, as if he thinks my silence means I’m worrying about that.
He doesn’t seem to be concerned about revealing that much to me, but then, he isn’t explicitly saying that they’re going to kill Benedikt. And even if he thought I might report a possible murder to the authorities, what could I tell the Crown’s Watch at this point?
I don’t even know for sure that the man next to me is Ster. Torstem, let alone who any of the other conspirators who participated in this charade of a trial are. I have no proof of anything, not even the tests I myself carried out.
I could point to a cave with shackles in the woods, if I could retrace my steps there, but I doubt the scourge sorcerers will leave any evidence of who used the chains.
Torstem doesn’t need to be careful. In a way, this is all another trial. Will I turn on them after all, or will I accept the brutality I just participated in as reasonable?
The sun lifts higher, streaking warmth I can’t appreciate through the trees. It feels as if we walk for ages longer than we did coming here, a fact that’s confirmed when the trees thin and I can make out the landscape beyond them again.
We’ve come around the curve of the river to where it starts to narrow. As my escorts stop there, a soft nicker reaches my ears.
I jerk around and spot Pepper, Casimir’s favorite mare, saddled and bridled with her reins tied to a nearby tree. The horse whinnies and bobs her head as if beckoning me over.
“How…?”
The man next to me chuckles. “It’d look odd for you to return through the city on foot. We would have contrived to bring the steed we understand you’ve been most inclined to use in the past, but the stallion proved… difficult. This one seemed a reasonable alternative.”
I can just imagine Toast’s reaction to mysterious figures he hasn’t warmed up to trying to drag him off in the middle of the night. I hope he bit one of them.
But now I understand why they brought me a riding dress. They really do think of everything to cover their tracks.
The scourge sorcerer points to the bridge farther along the river across the field of shrubs and grass.
“You can cross there, and you’ll be close to the college.
Show the guards at the gate your bracelet, and they’ll let you through without any trouble.
You’re clear on your story if your employer asks where you’ve been? ”
“I got an urgent message from my uncle,” I rehearse, not that I’m actually going to use the lie. Little do the conspirators know, the real Ivy doesn’t even have an uncle. “I hurried over to help any way I can. I’ll apologize profusely for not being able to leave word beforehand.”
“Good. Go ahead, quickly. We’ll call on you again when it’s time.”
Time for what? I want to ask, but I don’t think he’ll tell me. And he might not appreciate the prying.
I take Pepper’s reins, clamber into the saddle, and set off across the field at a canter. As I sway with the horse’s strides, Julita stirs in the back of my head.
Stavros will be having a fit. Gods only know what he’s imagined you’ve gotten into. I hope he isn’t too difficult to talk down.
My stomach knots. Whatever the former general is imagining, it might not even be totally untrue. I did tap into my riven magic today, on purpose.
As my escort suggested, the guards take one look at my college bracelet and silk dress and wave me through without comment.
I set Pepper trotting through the streets at as fast a pace as seems appropriate for a noble and remove her tack quickly at the stable, though I do linger there for long enough to check on Toast and give him an apologetic chin scratch for whatever trouble the conspirators gave him.
Then I hustle the rest of the way to Stavros’s quarters with my heart thudding at the base of my throat. As I slip inside, I brace myself.
No furious former general waits on the other side. I stall in my tracks, unsure what to do with myself, and notice the ring of cord stretched open on the floor near his desk.
He must have called a meeting with the other men.
Stavros still has my own portable portal—if he thinks I’m trustworthy enough to carry the cord myself now, he’s forgotten to hand it over. But we’ve only separated them out for convenience’s sake. Anyone can use any of the magical passages.
I hesitate for just a moment and then stride over to step into the corded circle.
The world around me flashes to darkness and then to the sconce-lit, windowless palace meeting room with a jolt of magic through my nerves. As I stumble to a halt one step past Stavros’s cord, the three men poised around the table whirl toward me.
Casimir’s face breaks into the most brilliant grin I’ve ever seen. Alek’s breath rushes out of him in a whoosh of relief.
But Stavros moves fastest. The massive man crosses the floor in a matter of seconds and grasps my shoulders with his wooden prosthetic and his real hand, peering down at me.
His stormy expression makes my pulse hiccup, but the growl of his voice sounds more anguished than angry. “You’re all right. Where have you been? It was the fucking scourge sorcerers again, wasn’t it?”
My mouth opens, but it takes me a couple of seconds to find my words with his dark eyes searing into mine and the heat of his hand coursing over my skin. “Yes. They summoned me in the middle of the night—wanted me to arrive right away. I…”
I falter, the enormity of what I need to tell them hitting me like it hadn’t quite before, and Stavros’s grip on my shoulder tightens. “Are you all right? What did those vermin do to you?”
Well, Julita remarks with an awkward laugh. I suppose Stav didn’t get the wrong idea after all. You really have turned his head, haven’t you?
“That isn’t one of your regular dresses,” Casimir notes quietly.
Stavros bares his teeth. “If those assholes—”
“The dress barely matters,” I interrupt. “And it wasn’t—it wasn’t exactly all the scourge sorcerers.”
“What do you mean?”
“Stavros,” Alek says, sounding as if he’s keeping his usual even tone through sheer force of will, “why don’t you give Ivy room to breathe so she can explain exactly what she’s been through?”
The larger man stares at me as if it hadn’t occurred to him that his presence might be just slightly imposing. He lets out a strangled sound and dips his head so low his forehead comes to rest against mine.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I thought—I thought they’d murdered you.”
A lump fills my throat. I’m even more overwhelmed with him leaning so close. His smoky scent floods my lungs dizzyingly.
I can’t claim the heady thump of my heart is only anxiety.
Was he really so worried about me? How much was he simply afraid that our plans to ensure his king’s safety would fall apart?