Chapter 26
Steam Under Pressure
It's funny how adrenaline can blind you to pain.
As soon as I made it to the gate of the outpost, the muscles in my legs screeched their protests.
The fatigue from sprinting to the perimeter, fighting Sanguirs, and half-carrying Rosa to a Medic center in Jakarva swamped me all at once.
I stumbled sideways, catching myself before I was dragged down by weariness.
All of me was sore. I hadn’t even had lunch, and it was well past sunset now, meaning I likely wouldn’t be seeing dinner either.
Gritting my teeth, I concentrated on forward momentum as I hobbled toward the barracks.
It felt almost like I had returned to a different outpost’s courtyard. Exhaustion had narrowed my focus substantially, because it took me seconds to register that the courtyard was pandemonium.
Several people were shouting over one another, including Instructor Weavir and Instructor Garcien. I recognized several of the trainees in the yard, including Mikalyn, Yeshar, Henrik, and those returning from the outer perimeter.
“—will have your rooms searched! We will find it!” Instructor Weavir’s voice was a booming shout.
“It would be better to confess now, while we can still treat this as just an impulsive mistake,” Instructor Garcien added, her tone clipped.
I paused to listen in.
“You won’t be able to sell it, it’s too recognizable,” Instructor Weavir warned, anger still coloring his tone, before reining himself in. “So you might as well return the horn before we find it.”
Comprehension fell on my head like a rock. I fought not to let my gaze dart to Henrik.
You’ve got to be kidding me.
He couldn’t have been stupid enough to steal the horn, could he?
I spent purposeful time looking at each trainee in the courtyard, not just Henrik. His expression was suspiciously blank when I studied him.
“I didn’t do anything!” Mikalyn yelled. She was on the verge of tears. “Why are you singling us out, out of everyone?”
“We’re innocent!” Henrik shouted.
“We don’t know where the horn is, so you might as well get your search underway.” Yeshar crossed his arms over his chest.
“We have multiple witnesses placing you three near where the horn was last seen after dinner,” Instructor Garcien explained.
“How do you know one of those witnesses didn’t do it?” Henrik asked.
“None of the witnesses saw any of the other witnesses near the horn,” she said.
“You should search my room,” Yeshar said, calm and collected. “I have nothing to hide.”
“Oh, we will,” Instructor Garcien assured him.
“But first I am giving you all ample opportunity to confess. Because we don’t know if it was just one of you that stole the horn, or all three.
When we find it in one of your bunks, it will be too late to pin this on each other.
The individual caught with it will be exclusively punished. ”
My mind raced, anxiety spiking. I’d seen how Henrik had eyed the Starshell Instructor Garcien had shown us when the lessons began around Skinscript. And I’d seen how his eyes lit up when the horn was first brought out. But that didn’t mean he was guilty.
Several others returning from the outer perimeter had stopped to listen in on the unfolding drama as well, including Zevrial. Spectators from among those who hadn’t volunteered were also loitering around the fringes.
Zevrial was concentrating fully on me. I shifted under his scrutiny. It lasted only a few moments before he turned and headed toward the barracks.
“The Ascendancy doesn’t suffer thieves,” Instructor Weavir’s tone dropped an octave.
“Especially Starshell thieves. The punishment for theft is maiming.” He paused to let that sink in.
“Maybe they’ll take a few of your fingers.
For something as valuable as the horn, they might take your whole hand.
They’ll take just enough that you will never be able to steal again, but still be able to perform a service.
Although it will be significantly more difficult for you. ”
“Last chance to come clean before we search your rooms,” Instructor Garcien said.
Henrik was glaring up at them, not even glancing in my direction.
The memory of when he’d tried to lift Zevrial’s coin purse that night when we’d all played Haburi rose unbidden, and all the times he’d filched food from my plate during meals. It didn’t help that I could remember a dozen times when he’d stolen from prisoners in the Reformatory without remorse.
But he’d bailed me out of trouble just as many times as he’d gotten me into it.
This was different. In the Reformatory, crime was almost expected. Unless it was egregious, petty crime didn’t carry additional penalties. Being in the Reformatory was already a heavy punishment. Maiming was far more permanent.
I tried to reassure myself that Henrik had immediately confessed when Zevrial had caught him stealing. He was an opportunist, not a fool. And he’d be the biggest idiot on Mesmoria if he’d stolen the horn.
Instructor Garcien sighed. “Alright, Nolan, please go search their rooms. I’ll watch them until you return.”
My pulse sped up. Zevrial ambled toward the Fitness center from the barracks with the barrel Instructor Weavir had used to store the Starshell knives. He dropped the two daggers at his waist back into the barrel, beckoning me over with a finger.
The line of suspects still stood stiff like a row of slimstalks in the courtyard. Instructor Weavir opened the door to Yeshar’s room. There wasn’t anything I could do for Henrik at this point, everyone would see if I tried to sneak into his room to search it before Instructor Weavir got there.
Henrik was my friend, and I wanted to help him if he’d done this, both to repay all the times he’d helped me, and to protect him from receiving the punishment. But this had gone too far.
I stood, feeling wooden as I stepped toward Zevrial. His dark eyes were sly as he tipped his chin toward the dagger at my waist.
Of course, he was collecting all the Starshell weapons. They were highly valuable after all. I’d forgotten I was wearing one.
I unhooked the dagger, stepping forward to drop it into the barrel. Zevrial caught my wrist, taking the knife from my grip and pointedly staring down toward the barrel. I followed his gaze.
My breath caught.
Partially obscured beneath the two daggers he’d already placed at the bottom, the distinctive spikes of the horn poked out.
He gingerly angled my dagger as he placed it so it hid the last of the Starshell from view, eyes trained on mine.
I opened my mouth like a fish, floundering for words that didn’t come.
Quietly, he murmured low enough that only I could hear, “Don’t. Later, we’ll talk.”
I was too numb from fatigue and surprise to argue.
Instructor Weavir was moving from Yeshar’s room to Mikalyn’s as I turned to the living quarters.
Exhaustion shackled my steps as I shuffled away. I beelined for the spring pool, rinsing off the blood and gore that coated my skin. Trying not to think about what I’d seen earlier made me think about it. I was rattled and fast approaching overwhelmed.
I dried off, slipping into a nightgown and heading back to my room. My chest warmed at the plate of dinner with cake Sarina or Corra had laid out for me on my nightstand. There was a small bit of bark beside it with a note scrawled in Sarina’s handwriting.
“In the Fitness center, so don’t get too cocky from your adventures today.” Like I’d have enough energy to even train tomorrow, much less push myself to compete with her today.
I fell on the food with ravenous hunger, my brain processing slower than normal.
I was finishing the last of my fruit cake when I heard a rap on the door.
Opening it a crack, Zevrial stood on the other side holding what looked like a bottle of sweetstalk nectar.
It hadn’t occurred to me he’d want to talk in my room. And now he was here, and I didn’t want to let him in. This place felt too private, too intimate, and if he stepped inside that feeling would only increase. And on top of that, our room wasn’t exactly clean.
He took a step forward as if he was going to push his way in. I firmed my grip on the door, leaning my bodyweight against it. He stopped, even though I suspected he could overpower me to get past the door if he wanted to.
One eyebrow rose, “May I come in?”
No. Maybe. Yes. Argh. I needed to talk to him. I just didn’t trust myself to be alone in my bedroom with him. This felt like a threshold we wouldn’t be able to uncross. Dimly, it registered that I was only wearing a flimsy nightgown.
“Fine,” I settled on, opening the door and stepping back. His presence filled up the space as he entered. The room was too small, and he was too big.
This was a terrible idea.
Or the best idea ever, my hormones argued with my head.
He glanced around, taking in the disorderly but convenient chaos that Sarina and I lived in.
His gaze snagged on a few items on my side of the room.
The notes I was currently studying, the scarf Mama had knit me, the box Henrik had asked me to hold onto, the metal yo-yo on my nightstand. He didn’t comment.
“Sarina could be back any minute.” I motioned to the one chair we had in the room while I took a seat on the edge of the bed. It was as far away as I could put myself from him. I crossed my ankles, patting down my nightgown’s skirt to make sure it stayed put.
He turned the chair I’d offered backwards, moving it much closer, and draped himself into it. “Doubt it.” He took a gulp from the bottle. “The final’s been postponed for a week ‘cause of today’s emergency.”
I blinked, digesting the unexpected news. That meant I had two weeks to prepare. He held the bottle out to me. With his chair in the newly relocated position, he was within arm’s reach. I accepted the half-empty offering, tasting petrichor and mint on the rim as I took a swig.
The nectar brought an immediate familiar relaxing fuzziness to my limbs.