She could almost feel the dagger on her throat.
“I did not think it was more than that,” she said finally. Her face burned, but she went on. “It was more than that. You told me it was.”
“Oh, Arxis,” the other boy said. “You need to rein in that silver tongue of yours.”
“What I need,” Arxis said, “is to stay away from gullible, romantic village girls.” He swooped down, picked up her dagger, and held it out to her. “You might need this, in case you come across someone who’s actually dangerous.”
Ileni had to bite the inside of her mouth to keep silent. She took the dagger, wishing her hand wasn’t shaking.
“Enough,” Karyn snapped. Arxis glowered at Ileni convincingly. Ileni glared back. She didn’t have to try to be convincing, because she meant it.
Karyn sighed. “Evin, congratulations on being in the wrong place at the wrong time. She’s your responsibility now.”
Ileni glanced at the second young man. His eyes were wide, his hair a mass of brown tufts fanning out around his head. He ran his fingers through his hair, leaving it exactly as disheveled as before.
“I do have a talent for that,” he said, as calmly as if there hadn’t been a dagger drawn just a minute ago. “Being in the wrong place at the wrong time, I mean. Though yesterday I was in the wrong place at the right time, and that didn’t go much better.”
Everyone ignored him. Ileni kept her eyes on Arxis, on his remorseless face and coiled body. She had seen, a dozen times over, how fast assassins could strike. Sorin had taught her some basic defense moves, but they had only worked because he had held back. If Arxis decided to kill her, she was dead.
And if he knew she had killed his master, nothing would stop him from killing her.
Finally, Arxis took another step back. Ileni’s shoulders relaxed, even though she knew he could easily kill her from all the way across the room. She forced herself to sheath her dagger.
“Interesting,” Karyn said. It wasn’t clear who she was talking to. “Evin, why don’t you show Ileni to the testing arena. I will meet you there.”
Ileni opened her mouth, then closed it. Karyn knew perfectly well that Ileni had no magic left. Ileni had grown up more powerful than any of her people, but when her power had begun to ebb, she had been sent to the assassins to serve as their tutor for the rest of her life. From future leader to useless sacrifice over the course of a few months.
If Karyn thought she had something to gain by demonstrating Ileni’s powerlessness during a “test,” she was making a mistake. Ileni was quite resistant to humiliation by now.
“I’m looking forward to it,” she said.
“Good.” Karyn seemed sincere, which puzzled Ileni.
“This way,” her new guide said, and waited for her to start walking before he led her out the door and into the Imperial Academy of Sorcery.
CHAPTER
3
Having a solid wall between her and the assassin was a huge relief. Ileni tried to put Arxis out of her mind as she followed Evin through winding passageways. These corridors were narrower and prettier than the ones in the Assassins’ Caves, better lit by glowstones that lined the walls in decorative, fanciful patterns. The air was filled with a faint flowery scent that struck Ileni as unpleasantly artificial, a peculiar contrast to the hulking, solid stone that surrounded them.
Magic.
And that was the key. The Empire was vast and powerful, but it depended on magic for everything from transportation to communication—and, most importantly, to win its wars, quash its rebellions, and defend itself against the relentless strikes of the assassins. Without magic, there was no way it could keep control over its vast territories. If she could take that magic away—or even cripple it—that would be the beginning of the end of the Empire.
“So,” Evin said, as they trotted down a few shallow steps, “looks like things are going to get a little more interesting around here. Where did you say you were from?”
Ileni took a deep breath. Might as well get it over with. “I’m a Renegai.”
Evin nodded politely. “Oh, really? From the Kerosian Grasslands?”
There were other Renegai? Did the Elders know? “No. From the Kierran Mountains.”
“Oh, right! The separatists in the grasslands call themselves the Singers. My apologies.” His voice was higher than she was used to hearing from men, and she realized that what she had thought was Karyn’s high-pitched voice was actually the way people spoke here.
They reached a fork in the passageway, and Evin took the corridor on the left. He was tall and lanky, and walked with a loping, casual stride. It looked awkward to her, compared to the focused grace she was used to from the assassins. From Sorin.
His voice, too, was nonchalant. “What happened back there, with you and Arxis?”