“Welcome,” he said. “Please enter.”
Absolute silence. Bazel glanced over Ileni’s shoulder at Arxis. Not a trace of recognition on either face, of course. No matter his weaknesses, Bazel was assassin-trained.
“Someone you know?” Evin said.
“Just someone I met last time I was in the city.” Ileni smiled at Bazel. “It’s wonderful to see you again.”
Bazel stepped back into the hall and swept his hand out in a welcoming gesture.
Arxis strode in, passing within inches of Bazel. Every muscle in Ileni’s body tensed, even though the two didn’t touch or even exchange a glance.
“Coming?” Arxis inquired.
“Ileni?” Evin’s voice was soft, his brows furrowed.
If Evin had picked up on her tension, the assassins certainly had. Bazel’s eyes were blank and steady, but Ileni detected—thought she detected—a hint of mockery in their depths. Since it was Bazel, she was probably right. He wasn’t as good as the others at anything, including hiding his intent.
But what was his intent?
I’m here to show you something. He had said that last time, and brought her here, and made no attempt to harm her. But last time, her body hadn’t screamed danger at her.
“We don’t have to go in.” Evin stepped up beside her. “I can take you somewhere else. He is wearing a blue belt.”
Which meant what, exactly? But this wasn’t the time to ask. Ileni pushed her unreasoning fear away and shook her head. “Thank you. But I do have to.” She met his long-lashed brown eyes. “You—you don’t have to. If you don’t want to.”
“Ileni.” Evin sighed. “Don’t you know anything about me by now?” His hand closed around hers, hesitantly. She pulled away. “I never do anything I don’t want to.”
She laughed, and the corners of Evin’s eyes crinkled. She walked ahead of him through the large door, into a long hall lit by glowstones.
The hallway was starkly clean, lined with evenly spaced doors, and absolutely silent. Sound-dampening spells were woven into the thick wooden doors, shutting out the groans and cries from downstairs.
“Do you know who keeps the recent records?” Evin asked Bazel. “We’re trying to find the child of a woman who died here recently.”
Bazel opened his mouth to reply, and one of the doors creaked open. A tall man with gold-streaked white hair strolled down the corridor toward them. “Who are these people?” he demanded.
“They’re from the Academy,” Bazel said. “I’m helping them.”
The man nodded and walked past. He opened another door, and through it came, for a moment, the sound of a woman screaming. Then he shut the door behind him, and the hall was silent again.
Ileni drew in a series of shallow breaths, hoping that would be less obvious than a single deep one. So Bazel had infiltrated Death’s Door, was known and trusted by the people here. No surprise. That was what assassins did.
But had he done it just so he could show her this place, open her eyes to the source of imperial magic? Or did he have a target, too?
You thought I would never leave the caves. She could still hear the pride in his voice. Oh, yes. The only mission an assassin would be proud of was one designed to end in death.
But whose?
Evin touched her lightly on the shoulder, reminding her that she, too, was an infiltrator. Known and trusted by the people she was meant to kill. “Maybe you should rest,” he said. “That many translocations can leave you dizzy for a while.”
Bazel’s gaze snapped to the point of contact between Evin’s finger and Ileni’s tunic. His mouth curved in a small, smug smile.
A mistake no other assassin would have made. Ileni recognized the anticipation in that smile.
And she knew who Bazel was here to kill.
She moved without hesitating, pulling in magic, gasping out the words of the most powerful shield she knew. She moved faster than thought, because she didn’t need to think.
She knew when she was prey.
Bazel’s dagger streaked toward her, and she got the shield up barely in time. The dagger stuck in thin air, its point inches from her eye.
Arxis screamed, very convincingly. Bazel flung out a spell, wild and chaotic and immensely powerful. Ileni’s shield shattered with a force that drove her against the wall, and Bazel was across the hall in seconds. He slammed into her, pressing her to the wall, and his dagger whispered cold and sharp on the side of her neck.
“I’m so glad I get to do this,” he hissed in her ear, and sliced the blade across the front of her throat.
It shattered into a hundred pieces.
Bazel dropped the broken dagger hilt and wrapped his hands around her throat, ribbons of blood crisscrossing his face. Ileni’s throat had been stone a second ago, but a wild spell from Bazel turned it back to flesh. Ileni had forgotten how much power he had.
And someone had been teaching him how to use it.