“Uh—”
“Never mind.” He murmured a spell. A surge of power tingled over her, and her dress was midnight blue, close to black. “Dark looks better when you’re threatening people with knives, I think.”
Ileni gaped at him.
“What?” He held up both hands, his sleeves falling to his elbows. “I can change it back, if you don’t like the color, or—”
“I can change it back,” Ileni snapped.
“Okay.” He hesitated. “I’m sorry. Breakfast?”
Ileni blinked hard and forced herself to step back. “I’m sorry. I . . .” She had no idea how to finish that sentence.
It had taken him a second to do that spell. She had been working on it for several minutes before he showed up and interrupted her. She had never met anyone that powerful. Even she, back when she had been the most advanced Renegai in her village, couldn’t have worked such a complex spell so fast.
“It’s all right.” Evin gave her a confident, devastatingly beautiful smile. The smile didn’t transform his face so much as accentuate it, making her pay attention to his appearance for the first time.
His smile widened indulgently, making it clear what he assumed her silence meant. Before she could think of a way to disillusion him, he started down the hall.
Well, that was for the best. Let him think she was struck dumb by his handsomeness. What better explanation did she have to offer?
I used to be very powerful. And now all I can do is steal magic from stones and be close to people who are very powerful.
Well, actually. Another thing I can do is kill you all.
That made her feel slightly better.
Even with magic to keep her safe, the walk along the ledge made Ileni’s stomach turn over. The path curved around the mountainside and became a narrow staircase cut into the rock, descending to yet another path below. The sky was bisected by a second mountain spire, bare gray rock with a flat top, as if it had been sliced by a giant knife. Between the path they stood on and that other spire hung a narrow, graceful bridge, swaying slightly in the wind.
Ileni tried not to gulp with relief when, instead of the staircase or the bridge, Evin slid into a crevice in the rock face, bringing them back inside the mountain. Her muscles unclenched as she strode into the dimness and quiet, the solidity of rock closing snugly around her.
She had only the space of a short passageway to feel safe. Then the scent of cooked eggs hit her, a moment before Evin called ahead, “Prepare your polite faces. Or in Lis’s case, your politest face. We have a newcomer.”
You’ll be training with the most advanced students, Karyn had said. Ileni set her jaw and followed Evin into a chamber filled with mouthwatering smells.
She had been expecting a large dining chamber, but it was a small room, with a single wooden table in its center. The only other people at the table were two girls with sleek black hair and identical faces. Their features—and their hair—reminded her of Irun; these girls were from the imperial nobility. Unlike Irun, however, they both had startling blue eyes.
“Lis and Cyn,” Evin said, gesturing toward them in turn. Their only distinguishing feature was the cut of their hair. Lis’s was long enough to brush her hips, while Cyn’s sliced across her cheek as she nodded. Neither smiled.
“Ileni,” Evin declared, watching the twins expectantly, “is a new student. She’ll be training with us.”
Ileni braced herself for their reactions. But Cyn merely rubbed a napkin across her lips, and Lis flicked a black strand of hair over her shoulder and said, “You’re late. Again.”
“We were about to leave without you,” Cyn added.
Evin glanced at Ileni. “We’ll catch up. As long as you’ve left us some food—”
“I don’t need to eat,” Ileni said. Despite her hunger, she wasn’t even sure she could force anything down. Her stomach was tight with anticipation, and it was hard to stand still. In just a few minutes, she would be using magic again.
Cyn swung her legs over the bench and sprang to her feet. “Excellent,” she said, speaking directly to Ileni for the first time. “Let’s go.”
“I need to eat,” Evin protested. “I’m disappointingly commonplace that way.”
“In that case,” Cyn said, “may I suggest you wake up earlier?”
“You may,” Evin replied graciously. “You may suggest it every morning, if it makes you feel better.”
Cyn sighed. Evin sighed back, an exact echo. “I suppose I can skip breakfast for one day. But don’t expect me to be up to my usual dazzling standards.”
Cyn’s lips parted. “I never—”