As yet, no one had demonstrated any.
Some candidates complained about it constantly—more particularly Seneca and Atticus. They had always been so sure that theichorwould “click” with their system swiftly and release their suppressed power within days. As for Bevan … I’d noticed a change in him. He was less arrogant. More focused. Even seemed to have gained in maturity.
Xalbia had a way of exposing who you were—that could be a harsh reality for some people, and I suspected that not all would accept it or work on themselves to make necessary changes. But it appeared that Bevan had.
He never bothered me these days. He even nodded my way if we happened to lock gazes, though it happened rarely since neither of us paid the other any real attention. He’d also detached himself from his cousins’ group and joined another. There was hope for him yet.
The breeze again rolled along the hill, sending leaves skittering along the ground and carrying with it the scents of earthy moss, greenery, and pine needles.
Up and up we climbed, even as the path became narrower and slipperier. What could have been hours later, we slowed as we reached a rocky outcrop. A distinctive whistle split the air that I’d learned meant,Hold.
Immediately, the entire line stilled.
I’d come to be able to tell Talon’s whistles apart; to know what each one meant; to read his signals better.
I’d also become very good at pretending that I didn’t want him as badly as Khalida had guessed.
Okay, that wasn’t true, but I was optimistic that I soonwouldbe very good at it.
There was a loud grating sound from up ahead. That of heavy stone scuffing rock. Then came a sharpFollow mewhistle from Talon.
The line began to move again. Soon, I saw a small doorway built into the cliff. A twisted, broken tree helped conceal it.
One by one, we filed inside—bending to fit into the low-ceilinged tunnel. The spot seemed too tight, and I felt a flutter of panic when my shoulders slightly scraped the walls.
If Talon can fit, you can fit.
Pushing past the panic, I bent a little more and skimmed my fingers along the rough dirt wall as I then descended a set of steps that led down to a lower level. There was no fog here, so I easily spotted the second door.
We walked behind Talon as he shoved it open and strolled inside. It was like stepping into a freezing cold nothingness. Seriously, it wasbeyonddark. An immediate chill settled over me, and little bumps swept up my skin. The stale, earthy air was thick with the scents of dirt, dust, and cold stone.
I blinked hard, straining to see. Which was right when rows of wall sconces lit up like magic. Again we trailed behind Talon, the sound of our footfalls echoing off the rough-hewn walls. The tunnels were sizeable enough to enable us to walk in twos if we so wished. Somehow, Lear and I ended up side-by-side.
Dirt and leaves littered the uneven floor—most of which had probably been dragged in by boots. Tall wooden beams were here and there, in addition to drains in the floors. There were also plenty of wall sconces—all of which lit as we walked. I guessed that Talon was lighting them with pure power alone.
I restlessly plucked at my tunic and cricked my neck. Gods, I’d hate to get stuck down here with no light. I wasn’t sure that feeling my way through the darkness would do anything other than get me lost, despite that the layout of the elaborate cave system reminded me of the garrison in how it was basic, straightforward, and purposeful. There were just so many turns you could take, so many rooms you could enter, so many alcoves, passageways, and sharp corners.
Each door was marked, indicating which room they led to—ration storage, weaponry, garderobe, supplies, sleeping quarters, and so on and so on.
Beside me, Lear began breathing heavily. I wasn’t sure if it was the darkness, the tight space, or being underground that bothered her, but it was clear that she was anxious.
“Don’t think about being underground,” I said, keeping my voice low. “Imagine the tunnels are just—”
“I’m fine,” she bit out, defensive. “You don’t need to worry about me.”
Knowing any sympathy would rile her up, I snorted. “Who says I’m worried? Your heavy breathing is just annoying me.”
A brief, surprised chuckle bubbled up. “I’m not liking the amount of spiderwebs down here,” she said after a long pause, her tone holding no bite this time.
“Me neither.” There werelots.Some fluttered with the air that blew in from occasional wall holes which I figured were linked to cleverly hidden outdoor chimneys.
I flicked a quick look at Lear as I asked, “Does the fog outside seem less dense to you?”
She spared me a brief glance. “No. Why?”
“It didn’t seem quite as hazy today.”
Pursing her lips, she shrugged. “Maybe you’re just getting so accustomed to the fog that itseemsthinner.”
