“If Roiven didn’ttellyou, there’s a ship headed to the council there to get more Enchanted,” I explain as patiently as I can. “They’re pinning an attack on you to get the funding. If you take me back before that happens, I can at least try to make someone listen to the truth about the attack.”
“Nice try.”
“Just ask Roiven.”
“Oh, he told me about the little incident with the ship,” she says, like she’s discussing the weather. “You’re a knight. Don’t pretend you care about the people you kill.”
“That’s not fair.” I know we need to use the Enchanted to protect our lands from witches, but Harfor is planning something big. Something I fear goes beyond the War-Father’s adage ofnecessary cruelty.
“Life’s not fair. Get back to your courtyard before I make you.”
She draws her sword, and my lips curl downwards. So much for Roiven’s promise that Avreen wouldn’t attack me again.
Maybe the War-Father is right, and witchescan’tbe bargained with. Roiven only kept the deal with me, to take me to the Bluff in exchange for removing the obedience, because he had no choice.
…Or maybe witches are just ordinary people, with attitudes and heartbreaks and good days and bad. But it’s borderline treason to even consider that.
I give the courtyard we’re standing in one last look around, trying to see if I can glimpse anything different through the doorway to the next one over. I still can’t see the ocean. The only reason I know we’re near it is the distant crash of waves and the familiar salt taste of the air.
I raise my hands in mock surrender and return to my own courtyard, walking backwards so I don’t take my eyes off Avreen.
It would be just like a witch to strike me in my back, I think, andthen I think:so what would I call sinking a ship of escaping civilians?The witches weren't the ones who did that.
Once I’m over the threshold, she sheathes her sword and folds her arms across her chest. But she stays where she is, halfway between the other courtyard’s table and the open arch into mine.
“What are you doing in there, if you’re supposed to be watching me? Why not wait in my courtyard?”
These trousers are the most annoying thing I’ve ever worn. I tug them up again.
“Roiven thought you deserved some privacy. I’ll be sure to tell him he was wrong.”
“Whatever,” I tell Avreen, and head back to my room to change into something that comes closer to fitting. Behind the locked door, I wrench the trousers off. Years of military training has me wanting to neatly fold them into crisp lines. Instead, I ball them up and hurl them angrily at the floor, then turn to look at my other options again.
I hold up another pair of trousers, gray ones that looked a little short to me. With a shrug I step into the right leg. Then pause, and sniff.
It smells like fire. I step into the other leg. These ones do fit much better, though they don’t fall as long as I’d like. I tie the laces tight, then turn, gasp, and jump back.
The baggy trousers are burning. With a curse I dive for them. I smack the flames out with my metal hand, then stare down at the charred hole in the thigh of the trousers.
Magic. It’s a cruel trick, and I have to assume it was meant to hurt me. My whole face hardens, lips trembling with fury. I grab the trousers and storm out of the room into the courtyard to confront Avreen.
Roiven stands at the stone table, holding a tray of food in his hands. He stares back at me, then slowly sets it down.
“Cai,” he says warily.
I hold up the trousers.
“Did one of your people make these light on fire?” I snap.
Roiven’s eyes widen almost imperceptibly, and his lips press together like he thinks this is hilarious. He’s just made it to the top of my suspects list.
“Your… pants caught on fire…?”
“I’m glad you find it amusing.”
“I don’t,” Roiven says. His face smooths, all emotion leaving it. “Truly. I don’t.”
“Dragons breathe fire, and you’re bonded to one.”
