Chapter 26
Twenty-Six
Lory
The routine remained the same over the next week.
Outside of training, Lory didn’t see Khayrivven for more than a quick exchange of glances in the mess hall during mealtimes, but that was enough for her to know things hadn’t really gotten better—and she didn’t mean the convoluted rejection on his side, but the remaining ache in her chest that was more than a broken heart, something other.
Because her heart wasn’t truly broken, just hardening every single day by the distance she herself had put between them.
Their encounters during training were few, too, only him checking in for a quick demonstration of her progress every other day. Anees and Hadrian took turns overseeing her magic lessons, and while Hadrian continued her Gilded training, Anees managed her Veiled and Steel practice.
For Medica, Hand Nahrit called her in every other day, and she dreaded the descent to the Medica quarters almost as much as she dreaded spotting Lenya on the dais every morning.
Ever since their encounter the night of the ashlings’ final trial, Lory had more questions than she’d entered the Medica quarters with, but one thing she was certain of: Princeton Nahrit was a rebel, and he was keeping an eye on Khayrivven.
Whether that was a good thing remained to be seen.
So she did today again, ready to finally ask the Medica Hand why he hadn’t confronted Khayrivven about his friendship with the captain’s father.
Whenever she got close to the subject, he shut her down, referring to ‘other priorities’ as he called it.
Such as her getting her mind projection under control.
At least that worked well enough for her to feel confident Khayrivven couldn’t hear the many accusations she wanted to hurl at his pretty head—or the declarations of her own feelings that kept resting on her tongue.
It didn’t help that he looked better every time she saw him, like, with the growing distance between them, he’d developed a special allure meant to drive her crazy.
His scent lingered in the hallways, and his voice followed her through the burning sun and stark shadows that were the premises of Ashthorn Ward.
At least her friends hadn’t changed. Tabi and Thal were eager to train more Veiled and improve their magic skills, while Jarek mostly focused on Steel for now.
Even Brycon had joined them for meals a few times, his expression different from his usual frown.
He’d even made polite conversation with her, going entirely out of character and not rubbing all his knowledge in her face.
For a change, Lory wouldn’t have minded since all she really needed was information.
About the history of Brestolya, or about the leonthor whose voice in her head during her mission to the palace still felt like a surreal dream.
About Flame powers in general. The rebels, the king’s system of ensuring his powers—apart from both his military branches—and about that Guardians-damned prophecy.
But it seemed Princeton Nahrit was the only one who’d share anything with her for now.
“Going anywhere?” Lory didn’t even bother to stop at Khayrivven’s approach from the eastern wall. She’d noticed him when he’d scaled the limestone with a few efficient movements and leaped down the final few feet from the battlements to the sandy ground. All of it without making a noise, naturally.
“To meet with my instructor,” said Lory, informing Khayrivven it was time for a training session.
Khayrivven came up beside her, walking backwards as he examined her head to toe, eyes snagging on the scratches in the leather vambraces that now adorned her arms, wrist to elbow, and were officially part of the thornling armor.
Anees dealt a mean backhand with her shortsword.
She’d need to learn that maneuver so she’d be the one slicing into …
leather, she thought before the words flesh and bone could spring to her mind.
Speaking of mind… The downward tilt of Khayrivven’s pursed mouth made her wonder if he was hearing something he disapproved of.
All she did was duck under the edge of the first obstacle and start climbing. At least she wouldn’t sweat to death this morning, with the merciful clouds blanketing the arena of her suffering.
“And has he deigned to show up?” A smirk entered his expression, reminding Lory of those early days when she’d tried to ignore the fear filling her head to toe at the sight of the man who could destroy her heart so easily.
Hand on the first hook up the wooden wall, Lory threw him a long glance. “Unless you’re expecting Hadrian to train me, then yes, he has. Now stop playing games and teach me something.”
It was the first time she attempted to get into his mind since the night that still made her heart throb, and Khayrivven stopped in his tracks as if she’d struck his tan cheek.
“I’d say you’ve learned much since I last paid a visit, but for that, I’d need another demonstration.”
Obviously, he wasn’t talking about the climb.
“Easy. Which one should it be, Captain? Fire magic, Veiled, Steel, Gilded? My Gilded instructor has paid a lot of attention to all the behavioral aspects concerning life as a lady in this realm. I’ve learned to use all cutlery at the table, and when he has a spare minute, he teaches me how to flirt.
” Lory didn’t care to pretend she wasn’t trying to land a blow, and judging by the way Khayrivven’s face iced over, she’d hit him all right.
A muscle feathered in his jaw, and his throat bobbed as he turned his head a few inches.
“Unless you’d like to waste my time, Thornling Vednis, I suggest you get your lazy ass to the top of that thing and draw your weapon. I’ll be right behind you, and if I find your techniques lacking, I’ll carve the Guardians’ names in whatever part of your body I reach first.”
A laugh of mockery lay ready to be released from Lory’s throat, but the shadow moving in the corner stopped her short.
“What is that?” she spoke into his mind, already heaving herself up to the next handhold.
Khayrivven gave her a head start of ten seconds before he followed.
“The Master of Whispers has returned from his visit at the palace,” he casually said as he hauled himself up onto the first foothold.
Lory barely dared look down for fear of missing one of the grooves where her finger fit and plunge onto his head—the image of the falling ashling tearing Jarek with him as he fell flashed in Lory’s mind.
“He has a new assignment for you. One he’d like to talk to you about in person. But first, you need to survive this exercise.”
“Are you being a natural born ass, or is Lenya actually hiding in the shadows under the balcony?” She didn’t bother inserting any friendliness into her tone, especially when she finally had found a way to speak to him without fearing being detected.
“The Master of Whispers is eager to see your progress.”
Shit—Lenya was actually watching.
No wonder Khayrivven had put on his hardass persona.
“I assume you’re thinking that I should just trust you instead of risking that Lenya finds out, am I right?
” She didn’t give him much time to respond, in words or in actions, already chatting in her head as she pulled herself around the corner of the obstacle and grabbed for the steel handle that she’d seen Anees use the day before during training.
She swung herself forward, leaping onto the shorter platform to her right and landing on her feet with a smirk.
“It’s not like I don’t trust you, Khayrivven.
But after what you’ve pulled, it’s hard to take you at your word.
And if Lenya is watching, I hope he sees that I have improved enough to best his prized assassin captain. ”
Khayrivven was right behind her, jumping as she sprinted for the edge of the platform and flew ten feet to the next. One small leap and she hung on the ladder connecting that obstacle with the next one.
“I’ve become faster with my practice of magic. I can hear better, see better, smell better. I’ve become stronger.”
“I can see you’ve practiced, Thornling,” called Khayrivven, and Lory couldn’t help but notice the pride in his voice. “Good to know I can trust my phantoms. To train you when I’m otherwise engaged.”
“I hope by engaged you mean spearing Ulder’s enemies with one of your sabers and not one of his court ladies with your cock.”
Wait—she hadn’t meant to project that, but Khayrivven’s hand grabbed her ankle and tugged.
Air rushed from her lungs in a gust as her hands slipped and she slid down the ladder like a dead weight.
When she hit the top of the obstacle, Khayrivven pulled her along like a piece of dead game, and no matter her trashing as he placed his knee on her back, right between her shoulder blades, there was no escaping his steel grasp.
“You’ve gotten stronger, faster, more skilled, Vednis, that is true,” he growled, “but you will never best your enemies if you waste your energy on pettiness.”
When Lory lifted her head in protest, the sharp tip of a blade nicked her skin. His breath grazed her cheek as he bent low enough to whisper in her ear, “I’m sorry.” With a shove, he forced her face back into the dust.
When Lory picked herself up again, scrambling to her feet and brushing the dirt from her clothes, Espetto Lenya was standing beside the Veiled Hand, his deep umber face mirroring pleasant surprise at Lory’s wince.
“Not quite at the skill level required to make tested early, but definitely better than when I watched you stumble through the Amrin Mountains.” His black gaze fell on Khayrivven with the slightest touch of praise. “Not bad, Captain.”
“Phantoms Frier and Bleek were a massive help during my absence, sir.” Not a hint of pride echoed in Khayrivven’s voice.