CHAPTER EIGHT
Legendary
Pytr
“You’re pacing,” Syrus says.
I open my mouth to argue with him, then stop. Because he’s right. I am pacing.
I frown at the window, then at the door to Syrus’s room.
Syrus is sitting on the edge of his ridiculous bed, some sort of fancy, expensive mattress that just appeared in his room one day, draped in scarlet silk sheets.
Aveus is balancing on a chair tipped back against the wall, and he’s tossing a ball against the ceiling, which is not helping my nerves at all.
The Exemplars don’t train us on the days of the full moon tour. That should help me relax, having a day where I don’t have to face those bastards. But today it’s just giving me more time to think about all the many things that could go wrong.
“He’ll make it,” Aveus says.
The ball smacks the ceiling, then falls back into his palm.
“I know,” I mutter.
I turn to stare at the door like I could make Reznyk appear. Behind me, Aveus’s stupid ball hits the stupid ceiling one more stupid time.
Every part of this damn plan is risky. I feel like a fool for putting my friends in this position. If Reznyk is caught— If any of them are caught—
The door creaks open. My breath catches in the back of my throat; I rock back on my heels.
Reznyk steps through the door, grinning as his dark eyes flash in the sunlight pouring through the window. Syrus comes to his feet, but before he can speak, we all feel it.
Magic. My skin prickles, and the back of my mouth tastes sour. The magic the Exemplars trap in their silver chains always feels angry, like something baring its teeth, something chained and ready to bite.
“You got it,” Syrus says.
“Of course I did,” Reznyk replies.
He pulls out the silver chain, and I let out a sigh. The air fills with the strange hum of magic. My skin crawls with latent power. Holding the chain with the edge of his cloak, Reznyk passes it to Aveus. Aveus tucks it into a hidden pocket, and the buzz of magic subsides slightly.
“Great,” Syrus says. “So, Aveus will create a distraction. And Pytr, you’ll grab the lady, right?”
I nod. I’ll be waiting outside the bunkroom for the Entrants. We’re not supposed to talk to them, or to anyone other than the Exemplars, but Syrus assures me that the rule is loosely enforced. Plus, he gave me another bag of coins to help grease the wheels.
“You know what you’re going to make for our distraction?” Syrus says, turning to Aveus.
Aveus grins. “Just wait,” he says. “It’s going to be legendary.”
I roll my eyes, but I’m smiling too. Aveus’s enthusiasm is impossible to resist. He’s a master at creating magical illusions, although he rarely has the chance to show them off.
The Exemplars want us all to turn the magic trapped in the chains into weapons, like Reznyk does.
He’s their golden child, and I think he hates them more than anyone else in this damn place.
“And if it doesn’t work,” Syrus says, turning to me.
“I’ll light something on fire,” I reply.
That’s my specialty, fire magic. Useful if you’re trying to light a candle, I suppose, but not exactly what the Exemplars want.
“Great,” Syrus announces. “And I’ll patch you all back together when the Exemplars beat the shit out of you for pulling this off.”
He’s still smiling, but now his grin has that strange, fake quality to it.
Syrus is a healer, and the gods know he’s had plenty of chances to practice on the three of us.
That’s the kind of magic I was expecting to find when the Exemplars took me up the river barge to Silver City.
I thought I’d learn how to heal, how to use my magic to help.
But no. Once the gates closed behind me, I learned the Exemplars have no interest in helping. They only want to burn and break.
“Syrus—” I begin, but my voice fades. How do you tell someone they have value when they refuse to see it themselves?
“Thanks,” I finally stammer. “Thanks to all of you. For the plan. For— for doing this.”
“Shit,” Syrus says with a shrug. “Like I wouldn’t jump at the chance to fuck those white robes over.”
“Hear, hear,” Aveus cheers. “And, hells, Reznyk just likes stealing shit, don’t you?”
Reznyk grins in a way that’s deeply unsettling. Once again, I feel like I must be the most boring person alive compared to my three friends.
“And now all we need,” Reznyk says, glancing through Syrus’s window and into the courtyard below, “is for the sun to set.”