“Tell me,” Karyn said, “about the Renegai.”
Ileni sat up slowly in bed. She was almost used to these morning appearances, always before dawn—not just because Karyn was busy, she had realized, but because that was when Ileni was off-guard.
Ileni had a defense against that. Usually she pretended to wake slowly, giving her mind a chance to clear before the interrogation began.
But this morning, she didn’t need the extra time. “No.”
Karyn lifted her eyebrows, surprise and threat compressed into a single gesture. She leaned back in Ileni’s chair and crossed her legs at the ankles. “I beg your pardon?”
“The Renegai are no threat to you.” Ileni’s fingers dug into her blanket, drawing it up in front of her. “They haven’t made a move against you since our exile, and they have too little power and too many scruples to threaten you now. Leave them alone.”
“I know they’re no threat,” Karyn said, and her casual contempt made Ileni curl her fingers tighter. “I was thinking, however, that they might be an ally.”
The blanket dropped back over Ileni’s legs with a tiny swoosh.
Karyn tapped a finger against the armrest. “You must have realized, by now, that the Empire has changed since the time when we drove your people into exile. Perhaps it’s time for a reconciliation.”
Her calm assurance made it hard for Ileni to find words. Finally she sputtered, “Why would they want a reconciliation?”
Karyn’s eyebrows, which had never come down, arched even higher. Her feet thudded on the floor as she leaned forward. “Why wouldn’t they?”
Growing up, Ileni and her friends had told tales of sacrifice and heroism under the Empire’s evil reign, spat when they spoke of the Imperial Academy of Sorcery, fantasized about ways to destroy it. It was oddly disheartening to realize the imperial sorcerers had no idea how much they were hated.
“They’re fine as they are,” Ileni said finally. And it was true; in exile, her people could stay true to their ideals, far from the messy complexities of the world they had left. As she had been when she lived in the Renegai compound, surrounded by people who thought exactly like her, knowing she was on the right side of . . . of everything, really. Sometimes, she had guiltily suspected their cause might be hopeless. But she had never doubted it was just.
She missed being that person. She missed living a life where everything was simple and clear. Even if that simplicity had been a lie—and she wasn’t entirely convinced it had been—it was a lie she missed living in.
Ileni had grown up wanting the exile to end, for the Empire to be defeated. And wishing for it had been far, far better than getting the chance to do it.
“Leave them alone,” she said again. “They have nothing to do with any of this.”
Karyn’s shoulder lifted, an airy shrug that reminded Ileni of Evin. “So you’re willing to betray the new master of the assassins, but not the people who abandoned you and sent you to your death? Interesting.”
Ileni shoved the blanket to the wall and swung her legs over the side of the bed.
“How,” she said, “did you know there was a new master of the assassins?”
Karyn froze for a fraction of a second. Then she straightened in the chair, resting both hands carefully on the armrests. “I know you’re trying to be careful, but you’re an amateur. You’ve betrayed more than you thought.”
“No,” Ileni said firmly. Of this she was sure: she remembered every single word she had said to Karyn about Sorin. “No, I didn’t. So how did you know?”
“I’ll tell you,” Karyn said, “when you’re on our side.”
She was so smug, so sure, that Ileni’s mouth opened to protest. Silence felt like acquiescence, like the first step toward defeat. If she didn’t deny it out loud, Karyn’s certainty would seep into her mind and settle there. Ileni’s eventual betrayal would start seeming inevitable, even to her.
But it was only Karyn’s certainty—her arrogant, superior assumptions—that was allowing Ileni to remain in the Academy. So Ileni kept her mouth shut, biting the insides of her lips, until Karyn said, “Now. I have some more questions about the wards. . . .”
Are you willing to betray the new master of the assassins? Sorin asked.
He stood behind her, one hand sliding along her waist, the other resting on her wrist. She held a throwing dagger in her hand.
I love you, Ileni whispered. Her heart pounded, and she couldn’t tell if it was because he was about to kiss her, or because he was about to wrest the dagger from her and lay it against her throat.
I love you, too. His fingers slid along her wrist, and then the dagger was in his hand, so fast she didn’t have a chance to tighten her grip. He whirled her around to face him, and as his mouth came down on hers, she heard the thunk of the dagger hitting the cloth target behind her.