He turns his head and gives me the barest of nods.

  I inch along the wall, toward the Arch, as the rest of the guards come clomping out of the towers to see what’s happening.

  The girl puts her hands on her hips.

  “It’s already been done, Yan. Out and back in. One of the senior teal cords took care of it.” She waves the clipboard at him.

  Yan takes the board and makes a show of examining it, allowing me to slip behind and through. Once back on Aschamon’s grounds, I put some distance between the Arch and myself, duck against the wall, and listen, afraid Yan will get in trouble.

  From this position, I can just barely hear them.

  “You’re right.” His voice still grates like ice. “Sorry about that, Shanra.”

  “You all right?” Shanra asks. “You seem upset.”

  “It’s nothing.” The Arch flickers off.

  Silence.

  “I heard the news tonight,” Shanra says in a brighter voice, obviously trying to change the subject. “Congratulations.”

  News? I frown.

  “Thanks,” Yan answers. Still icy, but not quite so harsh.

  “You know I’m supposed to report incidents like this,” the girl says. Guilt twists my stomach again.

  “Do what you have to do.”

  More silence.

  “Bah!” Shanra lets out a huff. “Lars doesn’t need to know. He probably wouldn’t care anyway. We all know you’re just looking out for everyone.”

  “More than they realize.”

  The edge in his voice tells me he knows I can still hear him. Indignation bites at me, all the worse because I am eavesdropping. I back away and flee to Caerin Ellis Hall, which is locked up for the night, of course.

  I unravel Bluefly as I collapse on a bench, startling a couple of taufen underneath. They fly off in a flurry of gray wings and cooing while I stare at my hands in my lap. Something hard presses against my leg; the thing Rafel had slipped into my hand before leaving.

  Hungry for a distraction, I pull it out of my skirt pocket. It’s a perfect sphere of glass, small enough to fit my palm, heavy for its size. I pass the little object from hand to hand, studying it. The weight and slippery surface are characteristic of marindar glass, and the shape...I almost laugh aloud when it comes to me.

  It’s a sorarc; I’ve just never seen one so small. I hold it up so that it catches the light of a distant qi-globe. Faint colors swirl on the surface, like a soap bubble, just like the tower sorarcs. Where did he get this, I wonder?

  “Contact me if anything changes.”

  Does he hope something will?

  I put the device back in my pocket with a frown, unpleasantly reminded of my promotion to Anjahel, my upcoming dedication, and all the other issues Rafel’s crazy story and then Yan’s interruption had driven from my mind.

  “You should get back to Tammar.”

  Yan stands in front of me; he must have approached while I was lost in thought.

  “You didn’t have to do that.” I stare at his sandaled feet.

  He sighs.

  “Yeah, well.” His voice is uncharacteristically bitter. “You’ll be pleased to know that no one else knows you were missing. I only noticed earlier because I wanted to tell you something.”

  I look up. That Shanra girl had mentioned news.

  “There doesn’t seem to be much point, now.” He reaches into his obi, yanks out a wadded length of cord, and flings it at me. I catch it, and nearly drop it again in surprise.

  I’d been given one just like it, two days before.

  “You...you’re a —” I stammer.

  “White cord,” he finishes in a harsh voice. “Anjahel. I and four others were tested and promoted tonight while you and Fien were off on your little excursion.”

  I twist the cord in my hands, feeling wretched. He’d probably gotten his hopes up, thinking now that we were both Anjahel, I’d change my mind about the two of us.

  What a slap in the face finding out about “Aeden” must have been!

  And unless I tell Yan the truth, I have to let him keep thinking Rafel is what I’ve claimed him to be: a beau. I study my friend, standing over me with crossed arms. For a moment, I seriously consider telling him everything.

  Yan is steadfast, smart, levelheaded, and he cares about me—too much, but still. In contrast, I know Rafel only cares because I’m useful to him. Acknowledging that hurts, but logically I know it’s true. Not to mention, Yan had just snuck me back onto campus, something I never thought he’d do, even for me.

  The silence presses against my ears. Yan shifts his weight under my scrutiny. Can he handle this? Strands, it would be a godsend to have an ally I could trust.

  Yet the words won’t leave my mouth.

  Yan earned his Silver Mantle when he was thirteen, the first year he became eligible, and exactly two years after his older brother Jaens had been killed in one of the most vicious Cowl attacks in a decade. The cell responsible had impaled their victims’ heads on pikes, which they then planted throughout the southern mountains.

  It had taken moons to find them all and scatter their ashes properly.

  However he might feel about me, Yan would sooner join his brother in shayol than trust a Cowl. I can’t tell him.

  Loneliness settles around me. Away from Rafel, I’m nothing but a gray amongst Mantles. That’s all I’ll ever be until I’m dedicated—or, I suppose, until Rafel succeeds in upending the entire socio-political structure of Verre.

  Allying myself with him might be mad, but that doesn’t necessarily make it wrong.

  I hand back Yan’s cord, which he takes without a word.

  “Congratulations.” I attempt a smile.

  “Preliminary training starts tomorrow.” He makes a pained face. “I figure someone ought to tell you. Third watch after dawn. Wear your silver and white.”

  “Thanks.”

  Yan sighs and musses his hair. “We’re going to the same building; I might as well walk you back.”

  And because I can’t bear to hurt him any further that night, I let him.

  Fien, predictably, flenses me for staying out too late, begs my forgiveness for selling us out to Yan, and then demands to know every detail of the night. I bear their questions patiently, still smarting inside over the whole mess.

  Yes, I’d met Aeden in town, by chance.

  No, he’s not from Aschera; yes, he wants a second date. No, I don’t think he’d be comfortable coming onto campus. I nearly choke on the lie, given that he’s technically already done so twice now.

  He’s a sariskan handler; I pull that out of my sleeve, remembering how Rafel calmed the beast in the stable.

  When they finally run out of questions, I’ve almost convinced myself that the Aeden I described is real. It would be nice to have a beau like that, someone smart and charming and gorgeous, who doesn’t burn towns and kill people and hatch ludicrous plans to overthrow gods and stop wars in his spare time.

  I shake my head as I change into my pajamas.

  The problem is, I know I’ve fallen for Rafel exactly the way he is, and any fantasy or dream would pale next to the real thing.

  Chapter 20

  I stand...or stood...or will be standing at the entrance of a stone grotto.

  The air stirs in cycles, like some vast creature’s breath. The scents of moss and crisp mineral water swirl around my face. Green, soft light emanates from the very walls themselves.

  At the center, a rotating, luminescent chrysalis hangs from nothing. I try, but cannot discern what hides inside those folded, translucent walls, like a seed awaiting sunlight.

  Only that it is powerful, and perilous, and sacred.

  Only the occasional drip of water disturbs the quiet.

  I take off my sandals and walk forward, drawn by a force I can neither explain nor deny. Beneath the chrysalis is a pool. I brush my hand across clear, cold water. As the ripples fade, I see fathoms upon fathoms of stars, extending down into the heart of the night sky itself. It is an eerie sensation, looking in so far, and I think I should be afraid.

  I am not.

  I look up, meeting the gaze of a figure whose hair falls blacker than midnight against his forehead, with a few strands streaked midsummer white. He reaches out...reached out...will reach out and writes with his finger upon the water’s surface. The letters etch themselves like glowing embers across the clear abyss, in a tongue I do not know...or knew before...or will know, someday.

  ‘Bring them.’

  My brow furrows in bewilderment.

  The light dims; the figure fades into a mist with red, glowing eyes.

  “I know you,” I whisper. “You are the Keeper of the Oath.”

  As I speak, his letters of fire blaze forth to engulf my body. My flesh blackens and burns. There is no pain as I watch, fascinated; flesh peels away from my fingers, leaving red-stained ivory bone behind...

  I jerk awake, gasping and clutching at my hands. The sky outside bears that faint luminescence that means dawn isn’t far off. I breathe out, a long, slow exhale, and lay my head back down. Fien’s soft breathing across the room soothes me, and I’m thankful, as I am nearly every night, that they happen to be a deep sleeper.

  Rafel’s story must have gotten to me. My dreams frequently interrupt my sleep, but I rarely have true night terrors; the timing of this one disturbs me. Keeper of the Oath. Oath-Keeper. It’s just Rafel’s mad nonsense.

  I yank my purple coverlet back over me.

  Well, I did agree to help a Crimson Cowl overthrow our world’s gods. Maybe this is their retaliation.

  Such a notion is too frightening to entertain in the dark. I put the dream out of my mind and eventually fall back asleep.

  I stir to awareness again at true dawn, recalling that I have Anjahel training at third watch and exams to sit for later, though regular classes are finished for the summer.

  Fien and I eat breakfast in the dining hall, an activity I haven’t had the luxury of indulging in since before Rafel’s first break-in, and one I’ve sorely missed. Porridge with ground spicebark and redfruit slices; typical Aschamon morning fare.

  Then Yan comes in late and doesn’t sit with us. The change is disorienting, and my heart aches to see him hunched over his food across the room. Even Fien keeps glancing over, their face troubled.

  But what can I do that won’t make it worse?

  Things remain so for the next quarter-moon.

  Though the countdown to my dedication ticks on, and Rafel is presumably plotting his next move, all I can do is throw myself into my usual routines and pretend everything is normal. Exams pass in a blur; I’m pretty sure I pass, though I doubt I’ve gotten my usual high marks. My teachers seem more forgiving with me than usual, probably attributing my absentmindedness to my “kidnapping,” and promotion.

  They aren’t exactly wrong.

  Anjahel training goes as expected. The six new white cords meet in a prayer room just off the domed worship space in Fraley Chapel. We attend lectures on the seventh energy node: its uses in qi weaves and how it is an Anjahel’s personal connection to Lord Isasar.

  Thankfully, the first thing we learn from Professor Donnevan is how to open and close the node at will. It wouldn’t do to have Isasar listening in on my thoughts lately.

  “Keep the node closed, and you won’t get a splitting headache every time an Anjahel sneezes!” Donnevan says with one of his characteristic guffaws.

  I like him. Like Matvey, he doesn’t take himself as seriously as some of my other professors do.

  But my otherwise enjoyable mornings in Fraley Chapel are marred by the empty seat next to me. I hate that Yan and I sit for watches in the same room, learning the same material, yet I can’t share this experience with him. So many times, I’ll lean over to ask him something, only to see an empty space and remember we aren’t speaking. Whenever I try to smile at him, he looks away.

  He continues to eat his meals on the far side of the dining hall. Never alone; Yan has many friends besides Fien and me, and I’m glad of that. But his absence from our table added to the cold shoulder I endure during Anjahel training throws me off more than I expect.

  We’ve never fought like this, and the longer it drags on, the more I begin to fear that I’ve permanently wrecked our friendship. What if he never speaks to me again? I never realized just how much I’ve taken his presence for granted.

  “You’ve got to say something to him,” Fien says as we finish our stew one night. Six long, monotonous days have crept by since I’d snuck out to meet Rafel, and once again, Yan swept by our table on his way out without a word.

  “Like what?” I shake my head. “We should have never involved him in getting that note. He has every reason to hate me.” My voice sounds bitter even to my ears. I miss Yan, like a constant ache in my stomach. “I screwed up.”

  Fien’s green eyes flicker away. “I don’t think that’s why he’s still mad.”

  I shove away my half-eaten meal.

  “Look, Saeli.” They pick at a mushy carota root. “Aeden may be gorgeous and all, but maybe—”

  “Don’t,” I interrupt, my voice harsher than I mean it to be. “I know Yan’s jealous.” And it’s times like this when I wish I could tell him, tell both of my friends, that he never needed to be.

  Not really. I sigh.

  “I can’t give him what he wants, even if there was no one else. I just don’t feel that way about him.”

  “Have you ever considered it?” Fien asks.

  I level an irritated glance at them. “It’s not like qi, you know? I can’t switch feelings on and off at will.”

  They hold their hands up. “I’m just saying.”

  “I’m sorry.” I take my spoon and hack savagely at a tuber in my bowl. “I don’t mean to snap.”

  Yan’s rejection is weight enough, but Rafel and his world-altering plot also plague my mind. I feel like a puppet, acting out the life of an Aschamon Anjahel, just waiting for him to yank my strings.

  Seven days left until dedication. What is Rafel waiting for?

  Why hasn’t he contacted me yet?

  I hate sitting here and doing nothing. With exam season past, I don’t even have the routine of classes to fall back on.

  Fien drags their spoon through the gravy in their bowl, finally setting it down with a decisive clack. I raise an eyebrow.

  “I have an idea.” They stand up. “I’ll meet you in our room.”

  They wink and whisk out of the hall before I can even open my mouth. I roll my eyes and collect our dirty dishes. That’s Fien. No doubt they’ll concoct some brilliant caper to jolt me out of my low spirits, and I’ll go along because it usually works.

  True to their word, they’re back within the watch. I’m sprawled on my bed, studying notes from that morning about making the seventh energy node work in tandem with the six elemental strands of qi. They sweep through our door, beaming, orange curls bouncing.

  “We,” they announce in a dramatic voice, “are going out tomorrow night!”

  They look so pleased with themself that my heart sinks. When Fien gets it in their head to do something, they’re impossible to dissuade. I set my notes on my nightstand.

  “Isn’t that how this whole mess started?”

  “Ah, but we’re not sneaking this time.” They saunter to my bed. “Because I got this from the High Priestess herself.” They pull a small, folded paper from their obi with a flourish, and hand it to me.

  “My friend Valene is having a graduation party at her house tomorrow night,” Fien explains as I open the note. “Remember I mentioned it a few days ago?”

  I don’t, but they go on anyway.

  “Now I know you aren’t a party person, but I think enduring one will be a good trade-off for a few watches of freedom. See, I just persuaded the HP to let you come.”

  The note is for the gate guards, instructing them to allow me off campus for four watches tomorrow night, beginning at sunset. Special occasion. Signed by the High Priestess herself. I look incredulously between my roommate and this suddenly precious scrap of paper.

  “But how did you talk the Priestess into it?”

  “It wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be.” Fien’s mouth twists. “I think she feels bad about being your jailor. I told her there’d be plenty of students and profs to watch your back at Valene’s house.”

  My thoughts stray to the sorarc hidden under my mattress. I’m pretty sure this falls under a certain Cowl’s “contact me if anything changes” category.

  “Do I have to have a guard the whole time?” I ask carefully.

  Fien, who’d gone to open the trunk at the foot of their bed, turns and gives me a sly glance.

  “Oooh, I know what you’re thinking.” They wag a finger at me. “You want to see Aeden again.”

  In a manner of speaking. I let my mouth twist into a wry smile.

  “You should invite him!” Fien starts digging in their trunk. “I can just see Valene’s face when you walk in with the hottest guy in Aschera on your arm!”

  Oh, shayol, no. Rafel in a house full of students, away from Aschamon’s protective wards? The very idea fills me with dread.

  “Erm...except parties aren’t exactly his thing,” I hedge. “He’s not big on...crowds.” Of majahel. Who’ll kill him on sight the moment they recognize him. If he doesn’t manage to kill them first, that is.

  Fien holds up a short blue skirt and a pair of dark slacks, frowning.

  “Look, part of the deal I made was that you have to stay at Valene’s. You can’t skip to go see him instead. Should I go masc or fem, do you think?”

  I chuckle. “You know you look good either way.”

  Fien taps their chin and lights up again.

  “Maybe he could meet you on the house grounds? I swear they’ve got acres of gardens. Do you think there’s enough time to send him a message?”

  “Maybe. I...I’ll figure something out.” I swallow. “Don’t worry about it.”

  I do not want Fien to get it into their head to track ‘Aeden’ down themself. Any Mantle majahel who dared would likely come down with a swift case of dead.

  They fling the skirt away and pull an embroidered, collared green shirt from their trunk, holding it up to the slacks. “Ha! Perfect.”

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26