Author: Leah Cypess

“Maybe it’s an advanced class,” Sorin said.

The terseness in his voice didn’t bother Ileni; but there was embarrassment there, too, so she made an effort to look less amused.

Sorin leaned toward her, his cheeks still tinged red, and said, “Either way, I’ve had no prior training. You’ll have to start from scratch.”

Upon consideration, that didn’t seem like a bad idea at all.

Chapter 15

The next morning, Ileni caught herself whistling on her way to the training room.

She stopped immediately, pressing her lips together. What was wrong with her? Last night she had seen a man killed, let an imperial spy escape, given up her only chance to go home. . . .

And she barely cared.

Sorin strode ahead of her. She resisted the urge to smile at his set shoulders. He had been every bit as distant on the way to breakfast, refusing to meet her eyes. Refusing to blush, too. She was willing to bet he couldn’t look at her without remembering his eagerness the night before.

Though really, she was in no position to feel superior. They had gone further than even she had meant to. And she wasn’t sure how much further they would have gone if she hadn’t remembered in time that she no longer had the magic to keep herself from getting pregnant.

How could she have even thought of taking that step with Sorin when she had held out for so long with Tellis? But back then, she had been willing to do things that were difficult and frustrating. Now there seemed no reason to resist.

She knew this would end badly. It was so ridiculous and so doomed that she could almost despise herself. Except, except . . . except her whole life was ridiculous and doomed, so if a brief interlude of happiness had come her way, why not grab that? She had forgotten how good it felt to be happy.

But when she stood in front of her class, watching her group of young killers work through the preliminary meditation exercises, she pushed her unruly emotions to the side and made herself concentrate. Something had been bothering her about Karyn’s escape: that rope, the focused surge of magic before it came sliding down. In class, Bazel’s spells tasted of power and desperation, and always leaked magic around their edges. The spell that brought down the rope hadn’t felt like him at all.

“Bazel,” Ileni said. “To the front of the class, please.”

Bazel got slowly to his feet and walked up to stand beside her. He did not meet her eyes, did not change his demeanor, did not indicate in any way that she had betrayed him and saved his life and watched him kill a man.

“I want you to demonstrate the defensive spell I taught last week,” Ileni said. “Sorin, please attack him.”

Sorin rose lithely. Ileni’s heart sped up as he passed her, and it seemed impossible that no one else could sense the pull between them.

But Sorin didn’t glance at her. He stopped a few feet from Bazel, inclined his head briefly, then moved without warning. Bazel’s head snapped to the side under the force of his blow. Neither assassin made a sound, and Sorin was back in his place so fast Ileni could almost believe she had imagined it.

Bazel’s head came up, and he started forward, teeth bared. Sorin pivoted and, with insulting slowness, snapped a kick at his face.

Power erupted from Bazel, a wild torrent. It hit Sorin’s foot and knocked him backward, harder than necessary. Sorin twisted in midair and landed lightly on his feet, still in a fighting position. He leaned forward to lunge, and Ileni felt Bazel gather in more power.

“The exercise is over,” she said sharply. “Thank you. Please sit.”

Bazel’s gaze scorched her. He was going to disobey . . . and when he did, there would be nothing she could do. That wild expenditure of power clearly hadn’t weakened him at all.

He turned sharply and made his way back to his mat. Sorin rocked smoothly back on the balls of his feet, then followed him. Once again, he didn’t spare Ileni a glance.

Hurt surged through her, which was ridiculous. What did she expect him to do—make calf eyes at her in front of everyone? Ileni focused on Bazel, who sat on his mat looking puzzled and resentful.

She could still feel the echoes of his spell. It felt nothing at all like the magic that had pulled the rope down last night.

Bazel hadn’t pulled down that rope. And if it hadn’t been him . . .

Only one other person could have done it.

Karyn wasn’t just a spy.

She was also a sorceress.

At the midday meal, Sorin didn’t sit with her. Ileni felt the first twinge of doubt then, sitting alone over a bowl of spicy meat and cooked vegetables, acutely aware of his presence across the dining cavern. She tried not to glance at him too often, but suspected she wasn’t succeeding. He lounged among his fellow assassins, more relaxed than he ever was with her, talking and smiling and even laughing. They had grown up together. She had been here barely a month. What did she really know about him at all?

The image of Tellis’s blue eyes, sorrowful and sad and utterly implacable, shoved its way into her mind. Reminding her how little a kiss, or even a promise, could mean.

When the meal was over and Sorin headed to her table, Ileni stood so quickly she hit the backs of her knees on the bench. Sorin waited patiently for her to climb over the bench, then strode toward the door without looking back to see if she would follow.

He’s pretending. He had to, didn’t he? They couldn’t allow the other students to guess what was between them.

Unless there was nothing between them. Unless last night had been a wild aberration, and he was going to pretend it had never happened.

I don’t think so. When they reached a narrow branch in the passageway, Ileni turned abruptly and headed into a rough, winding corridor. After a moment, she heard Sorin follow.

She didn’t have to go far before they were out of sight. In the dim light, the curves and lines of the cave walls looked like bones, the dark cracks like malevolent narrowed eyes. Ileni turned on her heel and waited until Sorin was standing right in front of her, his mouth an unyielding line. His closeness made her blood sizzle, overcoming her nerves. She slid one hand behind his neck and pulled him even closer.

It was like trying to pull a stone. He didn’t back away, but he also didn’t move forward. Humiliation scorched her, and she dropped her hand to her side.

“Ileni.” His voice was so low she wouldn’t have been able to make out the words if he hadn’t been so close. “We can’t do this.”

“Can’t we?” She wished she could disappear into the stones behind her. “Last night, it seemed like we could.”

“We shouldn’t have—” He drew in a sharp breath. It sounded like he was in pain. Well, good. “Don’t you understand how unwise—how dangerous it is? None of us are supposed to touch you. The master commanded it.”

Her eyes burned, and she had to hold them wide open to keep tears from spilling over. What was wrong with her? He wasn’t important. He wasn’t the reason she was here or the reason she had stayed.

“Afraid of danger, are you?” she said, with every bit of scorn she possessed.

“No. I don’t care if I die.” He said it through gritted teeth. “I care if you die.”

Ileni drew in a breath. “So do I. But what’s life without a little danger?”

He pushed her back against the wall and leaned in. His mouth was inches from hers. “It’s more than a little.”

“I know,” she whispered.

“We have to go to the master and tell him everything.”

“What?” Ice ran up her spine. She raised her hands to push him away, but he had already stepped back. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about the imperial spies. This has gone beyond smuggling chocolates. We can’t keep it from him. We never should have.”

“Sorin, you can’t. It’s too late. If you tell him, he’ll know you hid the truth until now—”

He pivoted and walked away, throwing words over his shoulder. “And he’ll punish me as I deserve.”

“He might kill you! And even if you don’t care, I do—” He wasn’t even slowing down. Ileni ran after him, feet pounding at the ground, and grabbed his shoulder. “He’ll kill Bazel too, and you promised—”

Sorin jerked away from her and whirled, his face colder than she had ever seen it.

“If you talk to him, he’ll figure it out,” Ileni said frantically. “You know he will. Even if you don’t say anything, he’ll know the truth. About . . . about us.”

He met her eyes. His were dark and hollow, and she recognized the expression on his face. She had seen it last night, but she hadn’t wanted to acknowledge it.

It was shame.

He was ashamed of her.

She felt small and loathsome, and for a moment she hated him for that. “If you tell him, he’ll kill me, too. Do you care?”

Sorin’s throat convulsed. “You know I do. But I . . . Ileni, I can’t—”

“Can’t what?” Ileni snarled. “Keep any part of your life for yourself? Any part of yourself for yourself? Care about anything that’s not part of your master’s plan?”

“Stop it!” He grabbed her wrist, holding so tight it hurt. She was too angry to be afraid. “You don’t understand—”

“I understand perfectly! He took you when you were little, surrounded you with people who taught you that nothing was important, including you. And you knew it wasn’t true, but you had no one to tell you differently—”

His laugh hurt more than his grip, which was growing tighter and tighter. “Until you came along, and changed everything? Is that what you believe?”

She jerked her arm out of his grip just as the ground beneath her began to shake.

She staggered backward. The walls shuddered around her, the ground tilting beneath her feet. Sorin took one quick step sideways, then stood perfectly still. Only his head and eyes moved as he took in every inch of the shaking cavern. He held two daggers, one in each hand. Ileni had no idea where they had come from.

A heavy rumbling noise filled the cavern, like angry wind, and Sorin snapped, “Throw yourself down!”

She did, not entirely of her own volition, one wrist buckling as it hit the ground. Shock waves ran through the rock below her and shuddered painfully through her body. Something cracked far above, and a large piece of rock slammed into the floor inches from her head. Dirt rained down on her hair. Ileni bit off a scream, covered the back of her head with her arms, and squeezed her eyes shut.

“Use your magic!” Sorin shouted. “We’re being attacked—”

Something struck the back of her head. She screamed. Pain lanced through her, and then there was nothing.

It seemed only a second later that she blinked her eyes open. She was lying on her back, and a pair of arms were holding her off the ground, cradling her against a familiar gray tunic.

She blinked again, and Sorin’s face came into wavering focus inches from hers. His eyes were wide, his mouth tight, an expression she had never before seen on his face.

“Ileni,” he whispered, and it was there in his voice, too: fear. “You’re all right?”

She closed her eyes. Not trying to see made it easier to think. “What happened?”

“A rock broke off the ceiling and hit you in the head. It should have—” His voice broke. She felt his chest rise and fall. Then his lips pressed briefly on her hair. When he spoke again, his voice was cool and steady. “Why are you not dead?”

She groped for her last memories. She had felt the impact—and had screamed, instinctively, the single word of a healing spell. She must have used it just in time.

She shifted, resting her forehead against Sorin’s shoulder. “I mean, what made the caves shake? Was it an earthquake?”

“It was an attack. The Empire tried to break through our wards. They failed. Can you stand?”