Author: Leah Cypess

“I—what?”

He rose in a single smooth motion, pulling her up by her arms. She swayed and leaned back against him.

“I’m sorry,” Sorin whispered. “I . . . if you . . .” He turned her around to face him, still holding her steady. The motion made the cave rock around her, back and forth, back and forth. . . . “I’ll keep you safe. No matter what the cost. I promise.”

Looking at him made her even more dizzy. But she did it anyhow.

Sorin brushed a strand of hair away from her face. “Are you really all right?”

“Yes. Aftereffect of the healing spell.” She had no idea why she was lying, except for a vague sense that she didn’t want to seem weak to him. “It will fade in a few minutes.”

“Good.” He took a deep breath and let go of her. “I have to get to the training cavern, find out what the master wants me to do next. I’m sure he has a response already planned. And you should probably check the wards, make sure the attack didn’t damage them. Can you?”

“I—of course.” The healing spell had drained her. But even without her power, she should be able to sense any problems. “Go.”

Ileni waited until Sorin was out of sight, then leaned against the wall. Her head hurt so much, and the cavern was spinning all around her. She shouldn’t be here, alone, with her magic gone.

Her room. She should go to her room. She would be safe there, behind the wards.

Unless the Empire attacked again.

But they wouldn’t, would they? Not so soon after they had failed. Failed. The might of the Empire, shattered against her peoples’ wards.

She concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other until she was out in the main corridor. It was so light. If she’d had the power, she would have dimmed the glowstones assaulting her eyes.

Which way was her room? She should know this. She had most of the corridors memorized by now.

“Are you all right?” someone said, and Ileni realized that she was sitting on the floor with her eyes closed. She didn’t remember deciding to sit down. She opened her eyes a cautious slit. Arkim was crouched next to her, his forehead furrowed, his gray-white eyebrows drawn together.

“We were attacked,” Ileni explained thickly.

“Yes.” He reached around to touch the back of her head, then glanced at the blood on his fingers. “I’m going to take you to your room.”

“I’m on my way there.”

“So I see.” He held out his bony hand. Ileni just looked at it. Once, that hand had held a dagger and killed a child. She looked up at his face, which revealed nothing but concern.

They were actors and liars, every single person in these caves. She had to remember that.

“Why did they attack us?” she asked.

“My guess,” Arkim said, “is that we got the attention of the imperial sorcerers.” He smiled at her, as if the two of them were part of the same we. “The master chooses his targets well, as always. The Empire can feel us closing in. They’re afraid.”

His hand was still out. Ileni took it and let him pull her to her feet, then swayed for a few seconds before holding herself steady. “What will we do?”

“The master will know what to do. But I suspect he’ll say there’s no need to do anything. The wards held and will continue to hold. The Empire might send soldiers next, but that’s a losing gambit—these caves can withstand a siege for years, and the mountains are full of perfect ambush points.” He let go of her hand. “This is your room, yes?”

Ileni looked at the thick wooden door. “Yes.”

“I can’t open it,” Arkim said patiently. “You’ll have to do that.”

Of course. Because of the wards. The wards . . . Ileni spun away from the door, and winced as the corridor tilted. “I have to check the wards! Around the caves—”

“You have to sleep first. Then you’ll do your part.”

She turned again and pushed the door open. Arkim waited in the doorway until she had lowered herself onto her bed.

“Make sure to close the door all the way,” she said. But she couldn’t keep her eyes open to make sure he had done it.

Her part, he had said. Her part. Because she was one of them, a piece of the master’s plan, helping to bring the Empire down.

To destroy it.

Despite the pain ricocheting through her head, she was smiling when she fell asleep.

Ileni woke a long time later—how long, she didn’t know, but her mind felt clear and she was starving. The back of her head was still tender, and she winced when she touched it, but her fingers came away dry.

She had no trouble finding the dining cavern and was relieved to discover that it was time for breakfast. She had never been so happy to see porridge in her life.

The cavern was full, but Sorin’s seat was empty. So was Irun’s. Still finding out what the master wanted them to do?

When she walked into her class, she was faintly surprised to see the rest of her students sitting in their usual neat rows, backs ramrod straight. Shouldn’t the Empire’s attack change everything? Instead of going through their usual routine, they should be preparing for war.

But of course, that was exactly what they were doing. What they were always doing.

For the first time, she felt guilty as she led her students through a series of pointless meditations. They were fighting for something, these young men she trained day after day. They were hurting the Empire. And instead of helping them, she was holding them back.

And meanwhile, all her people did was sit around recounting stories of cruelty and singing sad songs about martyrs.

We are preparing to take them on. She had known that since she was a child, had the Empire’s destruction as her focus all her life. But suddenly that promise seemed distant and hollow. Someday we will be free was the ending chant of every Renegai class, but nobody ever seemed to question when someday would become now.

For these boys, burning bright and fierce, someday was now. They would make the Empire pay with blood and anguish, and they would do it while the Renegai practiced wards and healing spells for the millionth time.

When the lesson was over, she held up a hand to stop the students from rising. “Where are Sorin and Irun?”

No one answered. She focused on one of the weaker students, a tall boy with curly black hair. “Do you know?”

“No,” he said.

A chill ran through her. “Were they . . . are they on missions?”

“We. Don’t. Know,” he said patiently.

But Ileni did know. She turned away quickly, before her students could see her expression.

I’m sure he has a response already planned. And the assassins had only one response. People would die, out in the Empire, to punish them for this attack.

And Sorin would be one of the assassins administering the punishment.

He was gone.

Chapter 16

Ileni ate barely two bites of her lunch—the porridge from breakfast felt like rocks lodged in her stomach—before she made her way to the knife-training cavern. Some small part of her hoped, idiotically, that Sorin would be there waiting. But of course he wasn’t. She had slept for half a day and a night. He was long gone by now.

He might die, out in the Empire, far away.

But first he would kill someone. That should have bothered her more.

She stood before the racks of gleaming blades. Those on the left were the poisoned ones. She reached out, daring herself to touch one.

Her fingers brushed the cold edge of a hilt, and she jerked her hand back. She thought she heard movement and looked over her shoulder. No one was there.

She reached for the knife again, her heart speeding up, fear and excitement pouring into the gaping hole inside her. It felt . . . not good, exactly. But sharp enough to pierce the dull ache of Sorin’s absence. She let her fingers brush the hilt again, closer to the blade.

Was this why the assassins were eager to kill? Because of the thrill that came when death was so close?

A hand closed around her upper arm and jerked her away, flinging her back. Fear exploded through her, suddenly not thrilling at all. She staggered and whirled.

“What are you doing?” Sorin demanded.

Her heart thudded hard against her chest. He stood just a few yards away from her, lean and handsome in his gray clothes. His face was grim.

“I thought . . .” The words came out in a barely audible whisper. She cleared her throat, tried again. “Where were you?”

“Checking the impact of the attack. The master told me to inspect the far reaches of the caves.” Sorin let out a long, shuddering breath. “He knew, Ileni. He knew I had explored all of them. All this time, I thought it was my one secret. But he always knew.”

Ileni didn’t know what to say to that. She couldn’t focus on it, and she couldn’t stop smiling, even though she knew it wasn’t appropriate. Sorin was here. He wasn’t leagues away. He was right in front of her. “I thought . . . I thought you would be sent on a mission.”

“So did I,” Sorin said.

He wasn’t smiling.

Ileni felt her own smile drop off her face, vanishing along with her joy. Apparently, she was the only one happy that he wasn’t gone.

But she took in his clenched jaw and hunched shoulders, and a surge of real pity took her by surprise. “I’m sorry,” she said. “You must hate being stuck here.”

Sorin’s mouth tightened. “What I want is not important. If the master says I serve best within these caves, that is where I should be.” He gestured at the rack of blades. “What are you doing with those knives? You shouldn’t touch them.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “There are a lot of things I shouldn’t do.”

He turned and looked at her, but instead of leaning in, or even raising an eyebrow back, he walked past her and drew one of the unpoisoned blades. “I want to show you backward throws.”

Ileni wasn’t about to be sidetracked that easily. “What did the master have to say about the Empire’s attack?”

“Nothing.”

“You mean, nothing you can tell me.”

Sorin turned and threw. The blade thudded into the heart of the one target Ileni still couldn’t bring herself to practice on—the child-sized one. The cloth figure thudded back against the stone wall. “Of course that’s what I mean.”

Ileni wanted to ask if Sorin had told the master about Karyn, or about the two of them . . . but somehow, she didn’t dare.

I’ll keep you safe. But could Sorin actually be in the master’s presence and hide anything from him? Ileni didn’t think she could.

Sorin closed his eyes briefly, then turned to her. “I’m sorry, Ileni. It’s just . . . the master had nothing to say to me. He didn’t speak to me at all. He had Arkim give me my task.”

Ileni stepped forward, hesitantly, and put a hand on his arm, feeling the tightness of his muscle. Like he wanted to hit something. “Maybe because there was nothing to discuss. The attack doesn’t change anything, really.”

“Maybe.” Sorin wouldn’t meet her eyes. “Or maybe he’s disappointed in me. And he doesn’t . . . doesn’t trust me anymore.”

No need to ask why. Maybe there was another secret the master knew.

Ileni dropped her hand. Sorin didn’t move, but his throat convulsed.

What could she say? Guilt and anger tangled up in her. Ileni took a deep breath.

“I know who killed Absalm and Cadrel,” she said.

Sorin’s head snapped up, and his face changed, the intensity in his eyes suddenly focused. “Who?”

“Karyn.”

“Karyn? But . . . how?”

“She wasn’t just a spy.” Ileni met his eyes, and warm relief spread through her when he didn’t avoid her gaze. But she didn’t quite dare touch him again. “She’s a sorceress.”