When Luc turned away again, Rolan eyed a silver candle snuffer and considered tucking it into his cloak’s inner pocket, just because he could and it was shiny—and besides, he resented being told his fingers weredirty.Even if it was probably true.
“So, you’re like royalty,” Rolan said, tearing his eyes away from the snuffer. “Should I call youPrinceLuc?”
“That’s not how titles work. And no. I’m not royalty or anything else but an Arcanist.”
“Did you grow up in this palace?”
Luc grunted.
So that was ayes.
“Did you slide down that banister over there when you were a kid?” Rolan asked, pointing out a staircase so big it would have easily cleared Evaine’s apothecary. The banister was carved like a wave of water—perfectfor sliding down. It even ended with a slight upward sweep, for a particularly spectacular dismount.
Luc scowled, which Rolan took for ano. He sighed, disappointed at the way good banisters were wasted on the unimaginative.
“I’ve heard lots of stories about the duke, you know,” Rolan wenton. “Is it true, then, that when you lived here you did your business in a ruby-encrusted chamber pot and then wiped yourself with a—”
“We’rehere,” Luc growled, gripping Rolan by the collar and dragging him through another doorway.
Where they were met by none other than Hoff, the captain of the city guard, who was on his hands and knees, scrubbing a stain out of the carpet.
- CHAPTER 22 -EAVESDROPPING
For a moment Rolan’s old instincts roared up. He spun and started to sprint away, but Luc still had him by the collar and he only ended up twisting himself in his own cloak.
By the time he sorted himself out and Luc had released him, he’d remembered he was the Arcanist’s apprentice now, and Hoff couldn’t touch him, and also, was Hoffscrubbing the carpet? He wasn’t wearing his captain uniform either, just a plain one they gave to new recruits.
Rolan’s smile spread wide as he realized that the small mercy ofnotseeing Hoff was now the fantastically enormous mercy of seeing him after all.
“Well, well, well,” Rolan said, crossing his arms and grinning down at his old nemesis. “Whathavewe here?”
Hoff flushed purple. It was a nice color on him, Rolan had to admit.
“Got yourself demoted, did you?” Rolan asked. “How did that—”
“You.”Hoff’s snarl froze the words on Rolan’s lips as he realized that, even on his hands and knees with a scrub brush in his hand, Hoff could still make Rolan’s pulse falter.
“Youlittle—” Hoff continued, but then his eyes flitted to Luc, and he fell silent.
Without a word, Luc steered Rolan past theformerguard captain and down a dimmer, colder hallway. Rolan glanced back and saw Hoff watching them, his eyes burning with hate.
“No apprentice of mine,” Luc said harshly, “will taunt a man who’s been knocked down. It’s dishonorable.”
“Even if he deserves it?” Rolan muttered.
“Even if he deserves it.”
“Right. I forgot that to be an Arcanist is to be grumpy and silent as much as possible. I’ll work on that.”
“Good.”
“Good!”
The Arcanist seemed distracted, worried, even. Maybe it was because this place gave him the jitters, the way it did Rolan. No place had business being so clean and quiet andenormous.
The cold hallway opened to a small storage room where, sure enough, a small pile of supplies was bundled. Luc sorted through the things, taking inventory. There was Evaine’s truth salve and several pots of spices, a book, a whetstone, a coil of rope, a string of beeswax candles.
While Luc sorted, Rolan watched from the corner, trying tofind satisfaction in the image of Hoff, humiliated, scrubbing the floor. But the memory was soured now, thanks to Luc.
