Chapter 16
A beam of unforgiving light hits my eyes, pulling me from the haze of sleep. My head pounds as I roll away from it into the shade—
I lurch into a sitting position. The market! Silvius!
I blink in my confusing surroundings. The light is coming from a tall window of pieced glass, the shutters having been thrown back to let in the morning. My patch of shade is cast by long lengths of rich velvet hung around the bed—a very soft and comfortable bed, but simply dressed with pale linens. It’s all very clean and very fine, and the outfit I had thought so distinguished the night before now seems gaudy. I slump and take a deep breath, scents of lavender and sandalwood and... tea filling my nose.
I spot the tea and sip it.
“Your moustache is coming off.”
I slap my mouth, tea spilling onto my fingers and the spotless bedding, to press the moustache into shape and stop abruptly. Setting the tea down, belly flipping, I scan the room—
Standing in the light shafting through the window is Quin, still and pensive. “Our magics have interwoven once. I’ll always recognise yours, whether you fail to control it or not.”
Magic smokes at my fingertips. He recognised me from this. He recognised me right from the beginning. My heart skips a beat—Akilah!
“She is sleeping in the next room. Drink your tea; that should relieve the headache,” he says without turning his head.
A wave of relief washes over me. “Do you recall everyone you clash magic with?”
Quin turns, his lips twitching. “The ones worth remembering.”
A frisson of heat flares to my face. “Why mine?”
He crosses the room, voice lowering. “It’s as unguarded and passionate as your expressions. Neither can lie.”
My fingers seep magic; I shove my traitorous hands under the blanket.
His gaze drops to where my hands disappeared and his lips twitch.
I puff out a frustrated breath. “ You were the one who said if it could save lives, I should deceive.”
He cocks his head, and after a moment, agrees.
“Once I’m qualified, I’ll leave. Start over where no one will recognise me.”
Quin’s silence is heavy, almost oppressive, before he finally speaks, “I despise the rules stopping par-linea from wielding magic.”
“If only—”
“The king would do something?” A bitter laugh. “The majority of officials staunchly oppose such change. He’d have to fight.”
I slump against the wall. “I wish he would.”
“Even if he wanted to, he won’t get a chance. He’s still a damn puppet, under the control of his uncle.”
“A puppet who’s still king,” I mutter. “No matter his hardship, he owes it to his people to fight as hard as he possibly can.”
Quin’s eyes narrow on me sharply. “You think opposing corrupt power is easy?”
“I think the king lacks courage.”
Shadows layer Quin’s face, his power simmering with anger and frustration. “You speak so boldly for someone hiding behind a mask. Does courage come easier when you call yourself Calix Solin?”
My breath snags, heat thrumming in my chest as I fumble for a reply. “I’m just doing what I must to survive.”
“What makes you think he’s any different?”
My shoulders sag. I don’t know what to say.
Briefly, Quin shuts his eyes. Then he pulls a wooden badge from under his cloak. A familiar one.
I frantically check my belt for the soldad. Gone. My gaze whips to his. “That’s—”
“It fell when you were carried up here.” He steps closer, his presence filling the space as he reaches for my belt. His fingers knot it tightly, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that makes my breath hitch. “You’ll be up against the best—men who’ve spent thousands in gold to hone their craft.”
“I don’t have to place first. I just have to pass.”
“No matter how skilled, only those ranked in the top ten pass. All others may try again the following year.”
Wait another year? But what if another of my family gets hurt? Or another roof needs repairing? I gave up the Temenos money... I need to earn...
Quin flips my soldad to the six empty squares. “Last year saw impressive talent turned away—talent that will be back this year, determined to place.”
“You’re saying I don’t have much hope.”
“I’m saying...” The space between us seems to be shrinking. I can feel the faint warmth radiating from him, and the shift of his fingers still on my soldad. He slowly lets go, looking into my eyes. “Fight for it.”
“You’re encouraging me?” I murmur.
“I believe your grandfather would say the same.”
I hold my breath against a sudden ache in my chest. Last night’s confession replays in my mind, the weight of it lingering between us and heating my cheeks.
“You were just a child,” he says quietly.
I shut my eyes. The air feels thick and painful as I haul in a breath.
I ball my shame inside before it leaks from me. “I want admission to the royal city.”
“Didn’t you want to start a career somewhere fresh?”
“The royal city is practically its own world, so few enter.”
“Even fewer exit.”
“I’ll be a whole new person there.”
Quin raises a brow. “And when they investigate the birth records in Hinsard? Will yours be there, Calix ?”
“Yes. Calix Solin is actually real.”
“Are you sure about that?”
I hesitate. Maskios’s face was an illusion. Was anything he said real? I squeeze my soldad.
Quin watches. Can he taste my yearning, my frustration? He looks away and clears his throat. Before he can speak, though, there’s a knock at the door.
“Later,” Quin calls.
“There’s a message from your wife.”
My head snaps up.
“Leave it with my aklo,” Quin says, meeting my gasp with a narrowing of his gaze. “What?”
“You’re married?” The words come out more gasp than question.
He hesitates, his jaw tightening before he speaks, voice edged with something raw, pained. “I have a son, too.”
This young, arrogant man. Already a husband, a father?
Quin huffs and looks out the windows at the street below. It’s bustling with...
The market!
I scramble off the bed, heart pounding as I scan the room for my boots. The sun is already high—Silvius could be waiting, or worse, already gone ... “Can you... can you keep this between us, please?”
He doesn’t look at me, but he nods.
“Thank you for ensuring Akilah and I were taken care of last night.”
“Don’t thank me.” I see the corners of his lips curl. “I set it all up.”
I swat him on the way past, barking out a laugh.
His gaze follows me, his eyebrow arching. “Will you let me exploit you longer?”
“Not today. I have some romancing to do.”
“ What ?”
I toss a wave over my shoulder and rush out to find Akilah. The rough texture of her cloak brushes against me as I wrap her into a hug. “Let’s go.”
Outside, the clamour of the heaving market surrounds me. We hurry away from the academy, towards the bartering vendors and the scent of fresh bread. Akilah rubs her temples, whining that had she known, she’d never have drunk so much...
I slow down to spell her mind clear, the familiar surge of vitalian magic calming me too. As much as I can be calmed before meeting the man I keep dreaming about... “The masks will have to stay.”
“He won’t recognise you.”
“I’ll find him.”
She strokes her moustache, clears her throat, and swaggers off into the market, only turning back to throw me a giddy grin.
I turn sharply and a floral teacup drops to the ground, cracking down the middle. My forehead collides with that of the teacup’s owner as we both hurry to scoop it up.
“Fool. Look where you’re going. You’ve ruined —” He stops rubbing his head as he looks over at me.
His eyes widen. Mine too.
“You!” He snaps, clutching the shards of porcelain.
If the chicken bone incident wasn’t enough...
Florentius’s cloak is like soft, golden leaves today. He’s as pretty as he is annoyed. He rises elegantly to his feet while I dust dirt off of myself and apologise on my way up.
His eyes narrow as he jerks his head towards the stall. “Replace it,” he demands, his voice raw and strained.
I was at fault. I should compensate, but...
I pull my money pouch off my belt and peer into it. Not enough. “I can’t—”
Someone grips my elbow. Quin? I twist and my breath fizzles out. Not him; another pair of dark eyes, without quite the same tense edge. I shake off a shiver. Silvius’s smile is gentle, kind. And he’s coming to my rescue. “Allow me. If I hadn’t caused the distraction, he’d never have bumped into you. I apologise.”
He smiles, his eyes twinkling with a hint of mischief, as he pays for a replacement cup. “Let’s go,” he says, his voice low and luring.
We squeeze past stalls of paper and books, needlework and delicate, brightly coloured paintings, around a bustling corner, into an alleyway, and through the side door of an inn. How did he recognise me? The freckle on my hand? The scent of my magic?
The soldad at my belt?
I bite my lip on a smile and let him pull me into an airy room overlooking the market. The steadiness of his grip is different—not crude and commanding like Quin’s. Silvius’s calm is like a complex spell, superior in every way. Enough to soothe any storm inside.
Surely.
He lets me go, and his smile brightens in the dust-speckled light as he pushes his hood back.
“What in all the kingdoms...” He shakes his head at my disguise, amused, and flings a spell at me to reveal my true face.
I spare him a raised brow. “When it comes to disguise, aren’t you king?”
His smile fades, brow briefly creasing. He glances down at the colourful market, and I move to stand beside him.
“I’m currently Calix Solin, magical scholar, candidate in the upcoming examinations.” I eye the sharp lines of his profile, his fashionably knotted hair. My voice trips into a whisper. “Will you finally share who you are?”
He closes his eyes.
I step back from him. It’s like Maskios all over again. “You don’t want me to know?”
‘Silvius’ turns and clasps my shoulders, keeping me close. His voice rumbles between us. “It’s not that.” His thumbs sweep up to the base of my neck. “It’s safer for you this way.”
Safer.
I swallow. I should demand to know, should put some distance between us, but...
He’s kind. He took care of his mother in the last year of her life; sent thoughtful gifts; wrote gentlemanly letters; took River in and cared for him. He saved me on multiple occasions...
I palm my soldad.
If he stole this, he risked his life for my dream.
“Your identity is your business. Just”—I look up urgently into his eyes—“promise me you’d never hurt the innocent.”
His cheek quirks with a reassuring smile and he pulls me into an embrace. It’s quick, sudden, tight. And almost as soon as it starts, it’s over. A rap on the door; a black-cloaked aklo enters smartly. His eyes fly over both of us, but his step remains steady.
“What is it?” Silvius says, an edge of annoyance in his tone that’s... pleasing. Butterflies flap in my chest.
“The head of the Temenos family died last night.”
The butterflies freeze and drop out my feet.
“The life-shortening tea—”
“No. Bad vitalian magic. They’ve taken River. It seems he had some contact with the spell.”
I stumble back against the window frame, the room spinning around me. Silvius’s strong grip steadies me, but I barely register it. My voice breaks as I stare past him, my words shaking. “It can’t be. He can’t be... dead?”
“Discovered during the night.”
I imagine Megaera weeping, yelling, a cloud of red darker than the dresses she wears. “No.” I snap my eyes to Silvius.
His grip on my robe doubles, his eyes tightening.
“I asked River to deliver it.” I haul in a sharp breath and lurch to my feet. “He’s done nothing wrong. I have to—” I take a step towards the door but Silvius stops me, hand squeezing my wrist. “It’s my medicine.”
“It killed a man, Amuletos. You can’t.”
I shake my head. “There must be some mistake. I tested it many times. There’s no way it could have killed him.” I look into his dark eyes. “We have to bring River back.”
“Not by giving yourself in.”
“If I don’t, won’t they hurt him until he tells them where to find me? Or Akilah?” My heart pounds and I rip out of Silvius’s grasp. “They’ve got it wrong. It can’t have killed him. I need to explain.”
“Wait until we know more about what happened, in case...”
His expression is sympathetic; forgiving.
“If... if it was my fault... even more reason. What if, to appease Megaera and deal with the matter quickly, the courts claim River tampered with it? That he’s the reason for her father’s death?”
“The courts are not that corrupt! They’ll get to the truth.” He looks away.
I steer his chin back to face me. “You’re uncertain too.”
“If they do that to him,” he murmurs, “what will they do to you?”
My stomach clenches. I see the crowds in the grand luminarium courtyard waiting for the judge’s verdict. See a blood-stained scaffold, the glint of a sharp blade. See my family lined up behind me, sacks over their faces, smaller ones for my nieces. I can hear their panicked little cries. My limbs shake violently. Silvius sends his aklo away with a directive and pulls me into a firm hold. His fingers caress my hair; the shoulder of his cloak absorbs my fretful breaths. It’s the kind of comfort I’ve always wanted but never thought I’d get—soft, patient, safe. Yet the absence of cool command... I shake that off. That’s definitely not missing. “River is loyal to me, and he’s indebted to you for saving him. He’ll confess on your behalf—”
I jerk out of his arms.
His expression is pained. “River has no family...”
I scrub my palms over my face, trying to rid myself of the image of my bawling nieces. I pace from wall to window.
I halt. “If Megaera doesn’t recognise me... If River doesn’t use my real name... if he says Calix Solin is at fault...” Hope pummels through me. “Calix doesn’t have family either. We’d only need a way to get through vetting...” He must have ways. He managed to get me a soldad... “Could you...?”
“Pulling such strings will get more people into trouble.” Silvius steers me to the bed and sits me down. He kneels, steadying me with a coaxing voice. It’s kindness I’m unused to—such a stark difference from Quin’s sharp commands and analysing stares. I wonder which I need more. “It’ll get you into the worst kind.”
“I can’t let River die for me.” I laugh. “Why are we tormenting ourselves? Poison Halting Miracle works .” I stand, and Silvius hauls me back down.
“Wait here.” And with a swish of his cloak, he’s gone.
* * *
I pace, searching the streets below for any sign of Silvius or his aklo. One hour passes, two. The market swells with basket-carrying aklas and elegantly dressed eparchs and eparchesses; servers scurry around with roast chicken and wine; someone nearby plays a flute. The melody stops abruptly and four redcloaks part the crowds, pulling someone behind them with bright magic knotted at their wrists.
The captive stumbles forward and I clutch the window frame. Akilah. But her face... so swollen on one side.
My heart hammers. I hurry downstairs, out into the noisy street, and push my way through sweaty crowds. The redcloaks turn the corner, towards the luminarium, and with panicked steps I chase after them. “Ilios—”
She whips her head round but doesn’t spot me; onlookers scatter as she’s hauled up the steps into the judicial courtyard.
The magic around her wrists uncurls and whips the backs of her legs, forcing her to her knees between another kneeling boy and crimson skirts. River. Megaera. The redcloaks take their places either side of the judge’s table and stare blankly forward.
Megaera glares at the bruised figures next to her. She doesn’t see through Akilah’s disguise—she doesn’t know her enough to spot any clues. Megaera’s voice is cold, livid as she demands justice. There’s a fire in her eyes that promises the heavens—her father—that she’ll get it.
I race forward only to be stopped by an invisible barrier controlling the crowd. I call out, but my cracked words are unheard over the judge’s magically amplified voice.
He addresses River while gesturing to Akilah—Ilios. “Is this who asked you to deliver the spell?”
I shake my head. River barely hesitates; he nods.
Akilah speaks, her male voice throaty. “I gave it to him.”
A knot tightens in my chest; I shove against the barrier again, and the zap sizzles through my veins, numbing my magic. “ No .” My croaked outrage merges with the shocked gasps of excited onlookers.
“How do you know my father? Why would you send him—why would you kill him?”
“He was kind to me once, when I was in need. I wanted to repay the favour. The spell should have cured him.”
Akilah, what are you doing?
Her head turns as if she’s heard my thought. Her eyes pin mine. Beneath her determination not to implicate me, any of my family, I see the flash of fear.
She lifts her head and swiftly continues, “I am solely responsible.”
At Akilah’s confession, a storm brews in Megaera’s eyes. Her shoulders tense, and her fists clench as if struggling to hold in her anger.
My own fingers press against the barrier harder. I wish I could break through, accept the blame for this grief. Energy hisses at my skin, and still I press against the sting. “Megaera, don’t—”
My words are choked, barely audible even to myself.
She leaps forward on a violent cry that’s raw with heartbreak.
For a moment, it looks like she might land atop Akilah and throttle her. But mid-air, the redcloaks strike.
Their magic lashes around Megaera with two mighty cracks, and she falls back sharply. I flinch, feeling the force of it as she hits the ground and her knees crumple.
“You’ll die for this.” The agony in Megaera’s vow claws into my chest.
The crowd shuffles and murmurs; the barrier burns under both my hands now.
My chest tightens; my voice is too broken to shout. I have to stop this.
Megaera has already lost so much—her father is gone, and she’s suffering. But she can’t hurt Akilah, either. My stomach heaves.
I pound against the barrier and, even as she kneels on the hard stone, Akilah’s gaze shifts, meeting mine with a warning. Quiet. I’ll do this. Trust me.
The judge raises his hands, quelling the noise. “Former official Temenos died between ten and eleven last night. According to his daughter and aklas, the last thing he consumed before retiring was a glowing blue pill given to them by an aklo claiming it could cure him.
“One might criticise him for taking an unknown spell, but desperation can drive a man to extreme measures. True, his life was already shortened. Yet this end feels premature.”
Akilah speaks the words knotted in my throat. “Something else must have happened. I am sure my spell works.”
“Full investigation,” I yell hoarsely.
A few others in the growing crowd are beginning to echo this when a white-robed luminist presents the judge with a sheaf of new documents. The judge glances over them and rings a spiritual bell at his side. “The directing vitalian concludes that the spell ingested ought to halt the poison of the life-shortening tea—”
Megaera tries to struggle up again. She strains against the shimmering magic that leashes her at arms and waist and binds her to her spot on the cobblestones.
The judge strikes his bell again. “ However , it clashed with ippifras running through Temenos’s body.”
Ippifras?
He points his stick at Akilah, and my stomach sinks. “Any decent vitalian would run a proper check of spells their patient had been treated with.”
It’s my fault.
The judge is speaking. I haven’t heard his words.
I killed a man.
“. . . and since you are unable to produce your soldad,”—my thoughts scatter and my chest seizes, heart pounding so hard I can barely hear the words as they land—“you are convicted of impersonating a vitalian and causing death.”
Acid lurches up my throat and I stumble forward. The barrier throws me back and I crash heavily to the ground. Blink.
I killed a man.
A luminist bell chimes. I push my trembling limbs up.
Redcloaks are marching Akilah into the dark archway leading to the cells as Megaera storms from the courtyard.
River drops his chin to his chest, weeping silently. The judge tells him he ought to find a better master and leaves with his bell. The barrier dissipates.
I scurry onto the stage.
Let him cry. How could he let Akilah take the blame? Why did he give us up?
Why didn’t he say that it was me?
River’s fingers are black with bruises. Welts lacerate his arms.
A trembling sob rips from my throat. I grab his shoulders and haul him against my chest, holding tight.