Chapter 30
~ brEN ~
I stood there, gaping at her back, but let her go, because I couldn’t believe my brother had been so rude! The moment she took the turn in the corridor I whirled on him.
“What the fuck was that?” I hissed. “She is a friend, and a sweet woman who was showing an interest! She’s not an enemy!”
Voski lifted his head just high enough to meet my eyes, then looked up and down the hallway before leaning closer to respond.
“Firstly, you don’t know if that’s true,” he muttered through clenched teeth—like I’d irritated him. “She could very well be planted here to befriend you and draw you into a trap. You have no way of knowing if she’s being used, or utterly innocent. You barely know her.”
“I have been watching for warning signs, but I’ve found none. I’m not saying—”
“And secondly, even if she is as innocent and sweet as she appears, you will very soon learn that most travels leave you with no time or energy to care for others beyond the periphery. And to attempt to do so only creates pain and disappointment—for both of you.”
My head jerked back. “I don’t have to be an asshole.”
“When will you see her again, Bren?” he whispered, his eyes locked on mine and intent. “When you leave this place, what possible way could you encourage her, or sustain a friendship? While you’re on mission? Or during training? Which would it be?”
His expression was fierce and pointed. He’d told me. He’d warned me. And so had Donavyn. Weeks earlier when I was first inducted.
Shadowfang were isolated by the vow. By our purpose. By the necessity to be unhindered. Even my dragon’s matebond was rare among the Shadowfang. Donavyn was deeply worried about what would happen the first time we were separated by war, or assignment.
And Voski… Voski didn’t know Grace, or who she was. But I’d spoken about her like a friend, and now he’d seen it and… he’d warned me not to grow attached to anyone on mission. Because they could never truly know me, and might be an enemy in disguise.
And even if I didn’t think he was right… I couldn’t deny it was possible.
I frowned again. “I believe she’s good.”
Voski sighed. “Bren, you can’t let yourself think that way—”
“Every person in this world isn’t an enemy!”
“Furyknight, attend!” he hissed.
I snapped to an upright posture and raised my chin, blinking as I looked over his shoulder and down the hallway beyond him.
Voski sighed, then leaned into my ear and kept his voice so low, I wouldn’t have heard it if his lips hadn’t been so close to my ear.
“It is hard for all of us at the beginning. But you hear me, Bren: There is no room for making friends, or building relationships on a mission. Every step you take, every ounce of your energy, every moment of consideration must go to your purpose. And yes, every person should be eyed askance as a possible enemy with an ulterior motive—or someone who might sell them information. Consider that you are here with secret intentions. Consider how often you lie.”
“I didn’t think about it that way,” I said quietly.
He nodded slowly, then straightened, his eyes scanning the corridor behind me.
“It strikes me that we are letting go of an excellent opportunity to grow you,” he muttered, then met my eyes.
“You’re hindered by these skirts. And that is likely to be a mark of most of your assignments,” he breathed.
“As long as your friend is going to inform Donavyn that you’re on your way, I think we should take the opportunity to train.
You need to learn how to identify servants entrances, and look for airflows and light in a room.
Those are dead giveaways of hidden passages—”
I heard the quietest click, and without warning, Voski stopped speaking and turned, silent and quick as a snake, to press me into the corner and block me from the alcove door, pinning me behind him, his back to me and his body pressed as far back as the bulk of my skirts would allow.
My heart slammed in my chest and I did my best to sink flat against the wall, praying he’d stay within the cover of the thick curtains and be unseen by whoever was coming. Because I knew, this was no flirtatious maneuver, or overreaction to a servant’s appearance.
Voski had seen someone—or something—important and was obscuring our position.
I didn’t feel him breathe. Barely breathed myself. There was the slightest, softest sound—footsteps—then nothing.
It felt like we stood there forever, flattened against that wall.
But finally, with a gesture to me to remain where I was, Voski leaned forward slowly, molding his body to the line of the curtains and leaning inexorably closer, his hood pulled up, until finally his head inched out into the hallway and he turned slowly, back and forth before easing himself back up and turning to face me, leaning into my ear and barely breathing the words.
“Ruin just left his chamber. And locked it,” he whispered.