Chapter 18 #2
When Khayrivven pulled back his hand, it was bloodied but empty.
Lory couldn’t keep herself from wincing as Andromeda twitched and groaned, her pain near-tangible in the air.
Khayrivven was trying to save that woman, and bloody as his attempt might have been, if anyone could do it, it was him.
“Get her out of here,” Brunn commanded, already turning around.
This time, Lory’s eyes followed the Master of Veils rather than Khayrivven’s actions.
She already knew his intentions. Now she wanted to figure out whether Brunn was the member of the Triad that didn’t agree with all of Ulder’s ideals.
Anees had mentioned something a long time ago, and Lory needed to know if there was someone in leadership who would look the other way while Khayrivven attempted to save human lives.
Brunn merely sat down in her chair and picked up the cup of steaming tea in front of her, no longer paying attention to Andromeda, whose writhing weakened and whose screams turned into whimpering as Khayrivven picked her up by the shoulders and dragged her off the platform toward where the cart would be waiting to transport her body to the crematorium.
“A little faster,” Ycken barked after him, the general half-on his feet as if he was ready to leap after the dying woman and end her then and there.
When Lory’s eyes snapped back to Brunn, the woman’s hand was quivering enough to spill a few drops of her tea.
Get her out of here. A part of Lory wondered if Brunn’s command had reached farther than to the crematorium—if she might have meant to tell Khayrivven to get Andromeda out of Ashthorn.
The moment Khayrivven disappeared and the door closed behind him, students started moving to get their breakfast, barely a murmur on their lips.
No one questioned the kill, and no one brought up Narica’s final words, as if life could go on as ever and this whole camel dump of a school wasn’t at the heart of the biggest conspiracy Brestolya had ever seen.
Even without Ulder’s strive for greatness, Narica had been right.
Ashthorn was a lie. The students were magic wielders in a land where magic was forbidden, and they were handed access to more power through training.
But not only that—if Aiden’s book had anything to do with this, Ashthorn wasn’t the only lie. The Great Purge was, too.
If only Lory could figure out how exactly it was a lie.
“Let’s get something to eat.” Anees got to her feet, elegantly sweeping through the rows of ashlings to get a plateful of fried eggs and some of the dark bread Lory had only ever seen at the academy so far, Bleek and Washings filing in behind her.
For a heartbeat, Lory hesitated, then she spotted Thal at the side of the line, and she hopped to her feet, beelining straight at him.
“Good morning, Elory,” Thal rumbled in that humorous tone Lory knew was mostly his personality, but the expression in Thal’s eyes was serious. “I trust you had a successful evening?”
Lory simply nodded, throwing her arms around Thal. “If you count not dying as successful, then yes.”
Thal patted her between the shoulders, tugging on her braid with every gentle clap.
“Did I miss anything?” The question wasn’t really whether she’d missed anything, but whether they had already talked to Maes.
With a shrug, Thal slipped his arms off her, only to have Tabi pull her into a tight embrace.
“Good morning, girl,” Tabi chimed for people in at least a ten-foot radius to hear, but when she pressed Lory against her, she whispered, “We need to talk. Jarek was right. Maes knew Narica, and with Andromeda being executed this morning, I wonder if there is something more going on.”
The blood in Lory’s veins nearly froze as Tabi spoke her mind so openly, even with the chatter of the morning crowd covering her words.
“We can’t talk about that here,” she quickly hissed.
They needed to find somewhere quiet and undisturbed in order to exchange information—not that Khayrivven would ever agree, but Tabi, Thal, and Jarek had come to her aid in the Amrin Mountains, fighting their own classmates to ensure Lory survived.
She trusted them, perhaps more than she trusted herself, because with everything going on lately, she wondered if her own judgment was clouded by the chemistry between her and the ruthless, yet incredibly selfless captain she’d once feared so much.
“Midnight in the shower room on the second floor,” Lory murmured, hoping no one would cross that plan by putting her on yet another mission or pulling the blue ashlings out of their beds for special night training or something similarly absurd she could only imagine Ashthorn coming up with.
Letting go of her, Tabi gave her a curt nod, then looped her arm through Thal’s with a chuckle as if Lory had made a half-funny joke.
When Thal demanded to know what was up, she playfully slapped his bicep, tugging him toward the stack of trays at the side of the breakfast counter.
“Later.” She grinned up at him, but the smile didn’t touch her eyes.
Perhaps, coming from a military family of tradition, Tabi was even more distressed about the latest events at Ashthorn and the doubt Narica’s statement had sown, while Lory had never fully trusted the academy, just as Aiden hadn’t—just as Khayrivven.
Lory caught up with Anees at the counter, squeezing in between two ashlings to swipe a slice of bread and a dragon fruit onto her plate, ignoring their half-hearted complaints.
She was no longer at the bottom of Ashthorn’s food chain, and since she’d survived the Amrin Mountains, people didn’t simply threaten her in the hallway anymore, one of the small perks of potentially turning into a living torch at any moment, she supposed.
“What are we working on today?” Lory asked over a mouthful of dragonfruit as she gobbled up her meal, the habit of eating fast ingrained into her through a life on the streets.
Perredin Washings raised a brow. “Ashlings are doing parcours and hand-to-hand. Thornlings are scheduled for magic training with Dunveil, but I guess you’re off the hook since you’re receiving special treatment from Falcrest.” With a wink, the phantom gave Lory a toothy grin.
“Shut up, Washings.” Hadrian Bleek shot him a glare that indicated he’d like to spear him with the blade hanging at his hip, while Anees pretended not to be paying attention.
“Magic training is mandatory at this stage of our education, Lory,” she explained without a look at Washings. “Khay asked Hadrian and me to substitute for him this morning.”
“Too bad Sil needs me for the Ashlings,” Washings complained, shoving his sleeves up his forearms before biting into a slice of bread. “I’d have liked to watch the fire spitter set herself on fire.”
Lory blew out a breath as her magic responded to the taunt as if Washings had known which buttons to push. “The problem is, Washings, that I’m just as likely to set you on fire while I’m at it.”
To his credit, Perredin Washings laughed, even when his angled, slightly tilted eyes gave away he was just as scared as he was amused.
“I don’t enjoy human roast, don’t worry,” Lory amended, keeping the bite out of her voice as she turned to Anees. “I’ve been dying to learn more about my powers. When can we start?”