Chapter 17 Nikolai
Nikolai
The source has no concept of what she’s gotten herself into—what she’s dragged me into along with her.
Those eyes, scorching as sand beneath hot sun, brand me like she’s planning to eviscerate me.
With no training, and her magic practically glowing beneath her skin, she might. If tomorrow doesn’t crush her.
If she thinks she only has to survive until exams, she might stand a chance. She has this certain dogged persistence. Like a weed. Still, I’ll bet my amulets that classes will break her.
I tighten my fingers around dull, used amulets.
I need to refill a lot of magic, and quickly.
Especially if I want to be ready to leave again in three and a half weeks.
I need to blow off steam, anyways. I don’t trust myself to be calm enough to sleep in the same room as someone right now.
Especially a prejudiced little viper like my new source.
I briefly return to the room with a sleeping mat and a platter of food.
Taera practically inhales the bowl of stew and fresh yeasty bread.
I suspect it’s similar to what she eats in her village, and the thoughtfulness of my own gesture concerns me.
This source is a painful inconvenience and delay in my plans.
At least after exams, I won’t have to deal with her anymore.
Taera places her bowl to the side. It’s licked clean, as though she doesn’t trust that she’ll see another meal. The twang of pity is unwelcome. She’s been a stinger in the ass since I dragged her out of the sandsmuggler’s clutches. And she’s worked against me at every step.
I recall her run-in with Jezebel, and my jaw tightens.
I should have insisted Taera hide her face.
It was stupid not to. And she was supposed to be scared enough to stay put.
Instead, I had to track the little lizard down, only to find her wearing my bedsheets—and true face—about to spill dangerous truths to her new enemy.
Not that Jezebel knows it yet. At least her clique will spread the word that Taera’s a lower-year.
It’s as fine a lie as any, though it doesn’t do wonders for my reputation.
No one can find out who she really is, at least not until she flunks her way down to actual first year and isn’t my problem anymore.
She looks ready to collapse. After dragging her mat to the very corner of the room, she seems determined to not fall asleep.
Whenever her head starts to slump, she jerks it up again and stares me down.
Like her self-imposed lack of rest is my fault.
I try to ignore her. At least she isn’t tracking any more sand across my floor.
She certainly doesn’t look as ragged as before.
Her honey-brown hair, skin, and eyes are bold, unapologetic.
Attractive, if her glare weren’t seeping venom.
She’s still clothed in my bedding. A smile tugs at my lips, but I’ll wait until tomorrow to deal with that. In another world, my reaction to her choice of attire might have been quite the opposite. But with her suspicious eyes tracking me, I’m only irritated.
I pull a veil over Taera’s perception and move to my desk.
She sees me open the usual drawers. In actuality, I grasp the heavy glass surface of the desk and rotate it a quarter circle before swinging it open like the lid of a chest. I dispel one more precautionary layer of illusion to reveal the hidden shelf within.
It glitters with bits and bobs: trinkets, amulets and the book.
A quick glance confirms her eyes are still glazed over. I take the wooden pendant out of my pocket. It’s strange that I never noticed it until she touched it. The etchings catch the low light. Deliberate lines, delicate. Etchings that are meant for glass.
My pulse ticks faster. Any guilt over stealing from Taera, from the Glassmasters, turns to satisfaction. Besides, it’s not like she knows what this is. I do. And I need it more. It could be the key to cracking the cipher.
I study the markings until I can trace them with my eyes closed.
As I suspected, it’s in the same indecipherable script as the book.
Except, while the symbols on the page won’t stop changing, an etching in wood is immutable.
Carefully, I place Taera’s necklace in the desk, along with my spent amulets and instruments.
But one of them buzzes between my fingers.
I lift up my spinner, which shudders violently.
I frown at it. It didn’t so much as twitch when I searched the village, except when it gave one violent jolt and then spasmed. Even in the carriage, it couldn’t detect Taera’s magic. It has to be defective.
Wonderful. Another problem to fix.
I’ll have to talk to Nya and Gwen about getting another. That’ll cost at least another few full amulets.
I slide the lid of the desk back into place and seal it with another layer of deception. Then I align myself with my illusion so I can release my hold on Taera’s vision. I head for the hallway, and Taera watches me.
I pause in the doorway. I should just go. Her obstinance is going to get her into trouble here. But she has been through a lot.
“Sleep,” I say. “You’ll need it.”
“If you think I’m going to let my guard down—” Her words are prepared.
My nostrils flare. “I’ve had every opportunity to hurt you. Exhausting yourself won’t get you out of here any faster.”
She blinks at me, as though trying to process my words from behind a thick wall of nothing.
I leave. I won’t get to rest again until the day is long gone and the night almost spent.