15 A Messenger #3
Vaelira shifted her weight. Her father had once told her that lies were sometimes necessary for the greater good. If you must lie, he’d said, lace it with truth to make it believable.
“We found a body on patrol,” she said. Truth. “I didn’t want to sit around thinking about it, so I sat in a tavern until I felt tired enough to sleep.” Lie.
Ressa’s features softened. “I heard about that. You should’ve come back and we could’ve joined you. There’s been talk. It’s not safe after dark.”
Vaelira pictured it. Ressa taking her arm as they walked to the tavern, Fang beside them cracking jokes to fill the silence. “I didn’t feel like talking.” She did. The words pressed against her throat like steam beneath a lid, but the moment she cracked, everything would come spilling out.
And then what? Would Ressa condemn her for her magic, like so many had before, when the mages were hunted to near extinction?
It was how Veyrakh had managed to summon the Great Fire in the first place.
There hadn’t been enough mages left to stop him.
She couldn’t let that be the reason these summoners prevailed in the city now.
Vaelira stepped past Ressa, unlocking her bedroom door.
“How did you get back through the gate?” Ressa asked.
Vaelira turned slowly, meeting Ressa’s gaze, pleading silently for her to let it go. “It’s better you don’t know.”
Ressa’s eyes widened. “Oh Gods, Vaelira. Please tell me you didn’t use your assets?” Her eyes flicked briefly to Vaelira’s chest, then back to her face, brows raised.
Vaelira’s mouth fell open. “Ressa,” she hissed. Her lips tugged up and laughter broke through. A second later, Ressa joined in.
A door down the hall opened and a mop of red hair poked out. “Can you two keep it down?” Fang grumbled, voice hoarse with sleep.
Vaelira glanced back at Ressa. Their eyes met, and they both snorted. Ressa waved Fang away, still grinning as she turned back to her room, shaking her head.
The next morning at breakfast, Ressa didn’t mention the night before. Fang had muttered something about being rudely woken in the middle of the night, but nothing else. Vaelira suspected Ressa had told him about the burned body and warned him not to bring it up.
A group of recruits passed their table and Vaelira recognised the scrappy-looking woman she’d tripped in the training hall last week. Someone muttered under their breath. Prince’s whore.
Fang stood abruptly, knocking into the table and sending his mug of water toppling over. He turned, his massive frame towering over the group. “Say it again,” he said, voice low.
The refectory fell silent. Water pooled across the table, dripping over the edge.
The recruits hurried away, their nervous laughter with them. Fang sat down heavily, hunching over his porridge.
“Thanks,” Vaelira said.
“You’d think they’d come up with a more imaginative insult by now,” Ressa mused, nudging a fried egg around her plate.
“There’s not a single imaginative thought between them,” Fang grumbled. “They’re just picking on people they think weak because they believe it makes them look powerful in comparison. Cowards, the lot of them.”
Vaelira didn’t appreciate being called weak, but compared to Fang, she was. The muscles in his exposed arms bulged as he clenched his fists on the table. It was as if Arnar, the God of War, had taken mortal form and sat opposite her.
A man in a blue uniform approached their table. Fang whipped around, looking ready to fight.
The messenger recoiled slightly. “Vaelira Tarn?” he asked, eyes darting to her as Fang relaxed.
Vaelira nodded and he handed her a sealed letter. The parchment was thick, the seal a blank circle of smooth red wax. She opened it, scanned the page, folded it and slipped it into her pouch. She nodded again and the messenger hurried off.
Ressa and Fang watched her expectantly. Vaelira picked up her fork and stabbed a mushroom.
Ressa let out a slow breath. “How long is it going to take before you start trusting us?”
“I do trust you.”
Ressa stood, taking her plate as she left. Guilt twisted in Vaelira’s chest as she watched her go.
Fang lingered a moment, his eyes soft. “She’s right,” he said, picking up his plate. “And if you haven’t noticed, you don’t exactly have people lining up to be your friend.” He followed Ressa out, dropping his plate on a cart by the door.
Vaelira sat alone at the table, her food growing cold. She wanted to trust them, but the last time people like her trusted too freely, the world burned. She wouldn’t be the one to strike the spark.
Ressa and Fang didn’t speak to her during drills, but Vaelira was too distracted to care. Her mind kept circling back to the note tucked in her pouch, words she’d read so many times they felt burned into her mind.
When Kolborn finally barked at them to leave, she headed straight for her room. Once inside, she closed the door and pressed her back to it, the note already clutched in her hand.
This was it.
She was finally going to get the answers she came for and the knowledge she needed to find out who had destroyed her life so thoroughly.
Vaelira,
Have dinner with me tonight. The Seven Squids.
E