Looping his arm into Lory’s, Thal wiped away the tear and straightened his tunic with his free hand, returning to be the fun, jabbering boy Lory had first met. “I guess they’ll need to get used to you being back.” He gestured at a group of yellows. “They had mentally dug your grave and buried you.” Then at two men with purple squares on their uniforms. “As have they.”
Tabi shot him a forbidding glance. “A little louder, Thal. The reds at the other end of the hallway haven’t heard you yet.”
“What?” Thal shrugged, wiggling his brows at Tabi. “They’d better know Lory is not afraid of them now that she’s passed her trials, and her loyalties have been proven.”
That word: loyalties. She no longer knew who she should be loyal to, other than those few people who’d fought at her side. Even the outcast refugee Flame-born in the mountains would have easily sacrificed her as leverage against Ycken and Khayrivven.
A sour taste accumulated in her mouth at how little in life she could rely on.
They followed the crowd downstairs and past the corridor to the mess hall, until they arrived in the blue room where Hand Dunveil was already waiting, his lean frame perched on the desk at the front, his fingers laced together in his lap, scrutinizing eyes roaming the rows of chairs slowly filling with blue ashlings—and her.
She’d considered whether she still belonged in this room, having been upgraded to thornling and all, but until provided with different orders, Lory was determined to stick to her routine as ashling.
Those sharp black eyes of the hand stopped when Dunveil spotted Lory in the last row, sitting down between Thal and Tabi, and the corner of his mouth twitched downward as if he’d tasted something bitter.
“Ashling trials are a few days away, blues,” he boomed, making half the room jump in their seats. “You’ve been training hard, some of you proving your abilities in the Amrin Mountains, while others have been slacking and have disregarded the opportunity for field experience.” His gaze flickedover the students, stopping at Jarek Grivor’s stocky form a few rows in front of Lory, before moving on.
The air magic wielder with the reddish-brown hair lowered his head, the shifting strands hiding the thin scar above his left brow, but Lory spotted the grim expression on his harsh, golden features and the peek to the side, where Eira Moonfell was twisting the end of one of her two braids. The matter manipulator met Jarek’s eyes only for a moment before they both glanced over their shoulders, scanning the room for something. Or someone.
Eira’s large, brown eyes found Lory first, and a hint of a smile crossed her lovely face. Jarek nodded at Lory before turning back to Dunveil, the slightest of acknowledgements and sign that they hadn’t turned on her, even if they hadn’t come to her aid in the mountains.
Blaming them for it was nothing Lory would ever consider. Aligning themselves with the Flame-born outcast of the group was something that might impact their career in this academy and after they graduated.
“Today, combat training is on the agenda, but before that, we want tocongratulatethe first blue ashling to make it to thornling rank this year.” As he spoke, he looked like he was being forced to swallow the poisonous juice of a desert berry. “Thornling Vednis.”
Heat rushed to Lory’s cheeks as all heads turned toward her, an assortment of disdain and curiosity on her fellow students’ faces. One of them was seething openly: Brycon Seine, his long, sharp face full of hatred. Lory had no idea to what degree leadership had shared with the students what hadhappened in the mountains, but he definitely knew something, or he wouldn’t be giving her the evil eye like that.
It was an exercise in self-restraint, not running from the room under all their scrutiny.
“Miss Vednis has passed her trials and is considered a loyal student with proper skill to proceed to the next level of training.” Dunveil didn’t seem like he believed that, but the orders must have come straight from the Triad. “That’s why she will leave our blue group and be joining the thornling training routine.” Straightening away from the desk, he paced a few steps, boots clicking over the smooth stone floor, and a calculated grin spread on his lips. “Careful, ashlings, don’t be late tomorrow for breakfast. Thornling Vednis might just be the one to deliver punishment for your failure.”
Beside Lory, even Thal cringed at the Knowledge Hand’s tone. Because while he might not have meant it when he said Lory was loyal, he sure as Eroth’s Veil meant this.
“And now, off you go, Vednis. Your instructor is awaiting you in the training courtyard.” Dunveil didn’t wait for her to stand up and walk from the room, but simply started his lecture, a summary of the Great Purge for the hundredth time, and a reminder of why certain magics are more dangerous than others.
“Be careful,” Tabi whispered as Lory slipped past her in the row of chairs.
Thal merely nodded at her, his smile one of encouragement. “You can tell us all the details of what happened later.”
Lory was of half a heart to inform him that there was nothing to tell but thought better of it. If there was anyonewho deserved to know the truth, it was the people who had risked their lives to help her.
With a curt nod, she stood, trying and failing to ignore the eyes following her as she left the room, praying to the Guardians that none of them would throw a knife at her back the moment she turned it to them.
Seven
Lory
The corridorto the training courtyard led past the Medica quarters, where Lory paused only long enough to pop her head into Hand Nahrit’s office and thank him for the tonic that had been delivered to her dormitory earlier, with a note that it would help with the lingering exhaustion after the excessive use of magic, signed with the hand’s name.
How he knew she was still struggling with a bone-deep tiredness, even after sleeping most of the journey back from the outpost, Lory had no idea, but itwas the kindest thing any of the teachers had done since she’d started her training here, so a quick thank you was the least she could give him.
“Enter,” Princeton Nahrit’s deep voice called as Lory knocked on the blackened door.
With a nod to herself, Lory pushed down the handle and opened the door, stopping on the threshold as she found Hand Nahrit sitting at his desk, nose buried deep in piles of paper. Mild wrinkles lined his brown forehead in concentration, his long, black robe spilling over the armrests of his cushioned chair. In his left hand, he held a cup of tea.
“What can I do for you, Vednis?”
Last time Lory had been in this office, Hand Nahrit had patched her up after the incident in the training chamber when Khayrivven had triggered her powers with Almelyte powder, and she’d been the one sprawled across this desk.
