Chapter 20 #2
Lory’s heart stuttered a beat as his fingers lingered there as if not quite ready to let go, even when his features betrayed nothing.
Think, Lory. Think. But the sweep of his fingertip along her thumb wiped her mind blank long enough for her to forget she’d wanted to know why he believed she’d need it.
Why he pointed out it wasn’t enough to trigger magic, she didn’t even want to know, but—“Do we have reason to assume I won’t be able to summon my powers in the future? ”
Khayrivven tilted his head, hand remaining on hers as he assessed the little vial like it held all the answers.
“Fire magic is the most dangerous and volatile of all powers known on the Brestolyan continent. Ice, air, earth, not even illusions or dreamweaving are as dangerous as the spark of a flame when it burns bright.”
His eyes met hers, and for a blink, Lory felt his power tugging at the edge of her consciousness, like a knock on a door, requesting access.
“But you are powerful, aren’t you?” Carefully, she pulled back her hand, turning the vial over and over between her fingers and instantly missing the warmth of his touch. “More powerful than anyone else at the academy.”
Khayrivven shook his head. “I am just another hand on a wheel that brings forth soldiers and assassins.”
“But you have the most dangerous magic of them all—and you’re a dreamweaver.” That had to account for something.
“The Triad holds more power.” The fact that he didn’t say whether he meant all of them individually or the three of them together made her wonder what else he was hiding.
Perhaps that was what Khayrivven Falcrest was—a man of endless secrets, a bottomless pit of frustration when it came to unearthing them.
While Lory pondered the mystery that was that man, Khayrivven got back to his feet, held out his hand for her, and when she took it, tugged her into an upright position, politely ignoring her flinch at the pain in her shoulder while she slipped the vial into her pocket.
“About the trials: you’ll be tested just like every other ashling, only, while they will be segmented for aptitude into respective segments, you’ll need to excel in all: Veiled, Medica, Knowledge, Golden, and Steel.
” He named the five disciplines they’d started training on.
“If you fail one, they will have me personally take your life, and trust me, I’m not ready to do that. ”
Lory marveled at the carpet of reluctance and judgement in his tone, a melody so complex it complemented the conflict raging in his eyes.
Dragging up a smirk she didn’t feel, Lory raised her brow, glancing at the hand he hadn’t let go of. “Good, I’m not ready to die, then.”
A smile ghosted across his features. “I’ll assemble a team of phantoms to help prepare you.”
Just like that, he was back in captain mode, his tone shifting to what could easily become orders, but in his eyes, the tides of ambiguity kept moving.
“Will you be helping me?” He had to have a reason to want her alive other than that she shared the same magic. “And more importantly: Why save me? Why not let me die?”
Khayrivven’s jaw worked as Lory waited for a few little words that would tell her what was going on in the man’s mind who kissed her in her dreams and disappeared in her wake, only to save her from certain death.
Finally, he put on a familiar smirk that would haunt her sleep tonight, because it was equally beautiful as it was dangerous. “I’ve become quite used to you, Gutter Gem. I’m not planning on delivering you to a blade any time soon.”
“Used to me?” Lory carefully squeezed his hand, reminding him he was still holding hers, and almost laughed as he jerked his fingers back. “I can see that.”
Realizing his mistake, he frowned at her, looking her up and down like she was a particularly annoying—and delicious—creature he couldn’t get away from.
“Let’s put it this way.” He ran a hand through his hair, taming the silken, black strands and making Lory wonder what they would feel like between her fingers.
Something fluttered in her stomach. “You are by far the most talented and most stubborn ashling this year has to offer, and with your fire magic, you and I share a trait that means death to most, yet here you are. You survived the streets of Dunai against all odds; you survived the Gargoyle attack; you lived through the Triad’s verdict.
Now I want to see what lives beneath that skin.
” He leaned in, eyes glowing with intent.
“I want to know what brilliant thoughts swirl inside that pretty head.” His gaze swept over her face, stopping at her mouth.
“I want to know what else you can do, Gutter Gem.”
Her breath caught at the heat in his gaze, the deep gravel in his tone scraping over her skin when he leaned even closer.
“I want to find out if you’ll be my savior or my demise.” A shiver skated along her back as Khayrivven’s lips brushed her ear.
When he stepped away, picking up his weapons and sheathing them with a few efficient moves before disappearing through the door, Lory realized Khayrivven had never answered her question about the front lines.
That night, Lory begged the Guardians for a dreamless rest, her heart still racing from the feel of his breath against her skin.
In her pocket, she was fisting the vial, wondering if the powder was something she’d have to inhale or if it needed to go in food or water.
She also wondered how she was supposed to master all disciplines for the trials in three months when she was still in too much pain to even hold a weapon, let alone wield one or climb up the facade of a fake house on the training parcours.
If Evven had been there, he’d have told her that she didn’t have to do anything, that she was perfect just the way she was and didn’t need to prove she was worthy of becoming a killer. He might have also spoken into her conscience, appealing to her softer side to consider not becoming a killer.
Evven wasn’t there, though, and all Lory could do was count the hours until the pink and orange streaks in the sky announced a new day, and Anees strolled in through the door, dressed in the standard black uniform with the thin, silver outline of a square diagonally crossed out on her shoulder.
“Rise and shine, Lory. We’ve got stuff to do.”
“Stuff?” Grumbling, she got to her feet, cursing colorfully when she hit her elbow on the wall as she staggered the first few paces.
Anees watched her with that half-amused expression. “Khay was right.”
Ignoring the thrill his name sent through her body, Lory rubbed her arm. “About what?”
“You do look delicious in beige.” She snickered. “Like a cream tart.”
Unsure whether to be excited or offended, Lory stared the phantom down. “Unless he’s planning to eat me, it doesn’t matter, does it?”
A laugh burst out of the woman, her dark braid swinging over her shoulder as she shook her head. “You’ll need to ask him about what he’s planning to do with you, but judging the way the two of you look at each other, I’m sure eating isn’t the only thing he wants.”
Lory swallowed the onslaught of embarrassment and folded her arms over her chest, frowning. “Speaking of eating… I could use some food.”
“You could use a lot more than that.” Scanning her head to toe, Anees pointed a finger in the air, gesturing for Lory to spin in a slow circle.
“Fresh clothes, a really good hair wash”—stepping closer, she plucked a raven strand off Lory’s shoulder, rubbing it between her fingers—“and some proper healing.”
Her gaze landed on Lory’s shoulder as if she could see the wound through the fabric of her shirt.
“I thought the branding was supposed to heal on its own so it leaves a proper scar.”
Anees nodded. “It’s more a reminder for you of what they could do to you if you fail to obey.” The touch of anguish in her tone was gone too fast for Lory to assess whether it was for a friend or her own experience.
For a moment, she pondered the conversation she’d had with Khayrivven and what he’d said about why he hadn’t been executed when they found out about his magic.
“Khayrivven said something interesting about my loyalty.” She didn’t really mean to ask the phantom about such a personal thing, but she was the person closest to the captain she knew. If anyone knew what he meant, it would be her.
“What did he say?” Anees’s tone changed from cheerful to clipped, but she didn’t shut Lory down either.
“That my loyalty has been taken care of.”
Again, a flash of pain crossed the woman’s pretty face, shoulders hunching slightly as if in a silent sigh. “He took care of it.” The pain turned into an unreadable mask not unlike Khayrivven’s. “If you want to know how, you’ll need to ask him.”
Lory was about to push, to ask for any hint she could give, but Anees already headed for the door. “Come on, Lory. Time to get you out of this room and back into action. Your friends have been asking about you all week.”
By friends, she could have only meant Tabi, Thal, and Jarek. Eira, perhaps, but probably not Brycon. Aiden knew where she was and what had happened to her, and Lory would thank him later that he hadn’t babbled about her miserable story to the rest of them.
“What did you tell them?”
Anees gave her a shrug, waiting for Lory to follow her into the hallway.
“That you were indisposed and will be back to training soon.” As she continued past the gray stone and blackened doors, she amended, “Naturally, you have lots of enemies now.” The grin she shot Lory over her shoulder suggested that was something to be proud of.
“Because I’m Flame-born, not because I’m a criminal.” Why that sounded better to her, Lory didn’t fully understand. Perhaps it had something to do with her magic not being her choice, while stealing and robbing and preying on the wealthy had been all her, every step of the way.
“Flame surely outweighs common street rat,” Anees confirmed with the unbothered tone of someone who couldn’t care less what she was as long as she committed to getting healthy and presentable so she could start her training once more.
“You probably shouldn’t wander the hallways on your own for the next three months, though.
Even with a kick-ass power such as yours, you’re still mortal. ”
Checking the open rooms left and right of their path for potential listeners, Lory caught up with Anees, lowering her voice to a whisper. “You mean, my Fire Fairy heritage won’t give me an edge when it comes to survival?”
The look Anees gave her made Lory wish she hadn’t asked. “You don’t think the Flames would have long taken over the rule of Brestolya had they had other traits of fairies? Like their strength or endurance or their speed.”
“How come we never hear about that part of history in Knowledge classes?”
Stopping at the next bend, Anees ushered Lory into a small, gray stone chamber lined with shelves of Medica supplies.
“Because it’s ancient history. The watered-down magic is all we’ve left from fairies of any kind.
Thousands of years will do that.” She gestured to a stool under a long, narrow window. “Sit.”
Lory hurried into the room, sitting down while Anees closed the door behind them, then rummaged through the shelves until she pulled out a bottle of clear liquid.
“This will take care of what’s left of the wound.
There’s already enough scarring to last you a lifetime.
” She uncorked the bottle with her teeth, reaching for a folded, white piece of cloth. “Take off your shirt.”
A week ago, Lory would have asked the woman if she was in her right mind, but the way she’d taken care of her together with Aiden changed everything.
Anees was on her side, and if she wasn’t, she was on Khayrivven’s.
And Khayrivven wanted her to live. No matter how tough, the phantom wasn’t going to go against the captain’s orders—or her friend’s requests.
With a wince, Lory slipped her left arm out of her shirt, tugging it up so her branded shoulder was accessible, and Anees went to work, peeling off the bandages so hard, Lory bit back a scream.
“Sorry.” The woman didn’t pause, though, efficiently wiping the wound down with the clear liquid she poured on the clean cloth while she explained.
“This is a magically infused elixir meant for healing. Princeton Nahrit, the Medica Hand, used it on you to heal your injuries from the first time you set yourself on fire.”
Her green eyes scanned the pale patches on Lory’s face. “It will seal what’s left of your wound, and only a thin scar will remain.”
Before Lory could ask the question, Anees already answered, “The branding will never go away, but it won’t be the only thing anyone sees whenever they look at your back, either. You’ll be able to wear a ballgown and get away with a thin layer of makeup over the scar tissue.”
“Why would I ever wear a ballgown?”
The grin Anees gave her was nearly as terrifying as the smirk Khayrivven sometimes put on when he knew he was right and wanted to rub it in her face.
“Just wait and see, Lory. You’re no longer part of the foot-soldier crowd. You’ll need a few more tricks up your imaginary sleeves when you prove your worth to the Triad and to Ulder’s cause.”