“We can’t cover all the topics before our time in here runs out, Lory. Which one would you like to talk about, the rebellion or our relationship status?”
Shame crept into Lory’s cheeks, and inside her belly, a coil of red-hot fire ignited as a crooked grin crept onto Khayrivven’s lips.
“The rebellion,” she ground out. Whatever this was between them—his fingers around hers, his thumb brushing the back of her palm, the way his eyes lit up when he met hers—was enough response. For now.
“You have been smuggling students out of Ashthorn?”
Khayrivven nodded. “I try. Not all of them survive, but as I’ve told you, most of the ashlings who get killed at breakfast aren’t chosen because they run late. It’s an excuse. Lenya uses his network of student spies to find out who shares the ideology of a free Criulias; then he uses his astral projection to spy on potential targets. Once he has enough to suspect treason, he finds ways to make them run late for breakfast, and an execution for tardiness is in order. That’s where I come in.” There was no pride in his tone, no heroism, only bleak sorrow.
“I am tasked with choosing thornlings or higher-ranking students to stab the ashlings in question.”
His eyes shimmered almost golden in the sunset light as he turned his head, glancing out into the desert landscape.
“I can’t choose my allies to do the stabbing every single morning. The Triad would notice a pattern, and I can’t save everyone, but I try to get out as many as I can.”
Lory was still trying to comprehend. “Who, apart from Anees?” And Frost. But she didn’t mention the ice wielder. Too much pain was connected with both his loss and betrayal.
Khayrivven gave her a self-deprecating look that made her want to wrap her arms around him. “Not many, as you can imagine. Lots of students are of the belief that a Criu is worth less than the dirt in the back alleys of Dunai. No offense.”
Lory shook her head. She’d heard it all: that she was scum, nothing more than a rat who had crawled out of the capital’s sewers. “Let them think whatever they will. Theydon’t understand that a people scorned is a people to be wary of.” Just like the street rats. They might have been the lowest in the social hierarchies, but their resilience allowed them to survive. Aiden had been proof of that—until Lory’s trial in the Amrin Mountains became his death.
With a small nod and a hint of warmth in his eyes, Khayrivven acknowledged her words. “The Criu people deserve freedom, as do all people in this world. Anees agrees; so does Hadrian. Those two, I trust. The rest of Ashthorn is an unknown.” His expression melted as he anticipated her protest. “And you, little Flame. I trust you.” He tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, finger brushing her cheek and leaving a trace of heat. “But I don’t get the same amount of alone time with you as I do with the two phantoms. Lenya’s spies are everywhere within the academy, but also out here, and the Master of Whispers is invested in keeping a controlling eye on the Flame woman who might change the course of history.” The corner of his mouth twitched up. “If it were up to me, I’d share every secret, lay bare every plan. I’m not keeping them for my sake, but for the sake of my people.”
Lory wasn’t sure if she should be proud of this version of Khayrivven, of his ideals and the lengths he was willing to go to save Criulias or scared of the ruthlessness necessary to pull it off. He’d been deceiving the entire Brestolyan military—common and magical—for years while secretly rescuing Criu magic wielders.
Speaking of?—
“What happens to the students you save? Do they have somewhere to go?”
A dark cloud seemed to hover above Khayrivven’s head as he lowered it, evading Lory’s gaze. “The small number of ashlings who survive the stab wounds recover in the tunnel behind the crematorium. Hand Nahrit never asks when Anees, Hadrian, or I come for extra Medica supplies, which helps me treat the ashlings’ wounds and give them their best chance at survival. When they are out of the worst, I send them off to the meeting point in the city where one of Lu’Shen’s girls picks them up.”
“Lu’Shen knows?” Lory had lost track of the countless questions she’d swallowed, but this one blubbered right out of her, earning her an amused glance from Khayrivven.
“Lu’Shen might be Naolapian, but that doesn’t mean she needs to agree with the oppression of a neighbor province. Besides, she is excellent at Medica, not just Gilded. Once the ashlings arrive at Lu’Shen’s, they stand a real chance.”
Nowthatwas a surprise. She’d wondered all those months ago why a brothel madame would have cared to help her when she’d been running with Airmal Ycken’s Almelyte. Had believed to understand the nature of the collaboration she had with Ashthorn when she’d returned to the brothel with Khayrivven on a fateful mission. But as she remembered Lu’Shen’s words from the night she’d been captured, she realized how naive she had been.Don’t judge me or my girls. We all have our reasons to be here. And you will learn in time that sometimes, in order to survive, we need to work for the ones we despise.
Reasons far beyond picking poor girls off the streets and offering them a questionable job, the way Lu’Shen had once done with her.
“All this time, they’ve been trafficking rebels out of Dunai.” Lory barely believed what she was saying, but Khayrivven’s intense eyes convinced her that this was so much bigger than she could have ever dreamed of.
“Lu’Shen’s courtesans have unique access to places in this city no one else gets to see. It’s easier for them to smuggle people in and out in disguise.” He shrugged as if that was nothing. “They also help out at events like these. Entertaining the court means access to information—the sort of information you can’t get anywhere else.”
Lory blinked a few times, holding her breath as she waited for Khayrivven to continue, but he merely held her gaze, his shoulders tight and his hand around hers even tighter.
For a long moment, the silence thickened until Lory was sure she could have cut it with the butter knife in Khayrivven’s breast pocket. Then, he let go of her hand, his shoulders rising and falling as he took a deep breath, and he raised his fingertips to her cheek, gently grazing her skin. “You have no idea how many times I’ve wanted to tell you, but I couldn’t risk it.”
Lory wasn’t sure what hurt more, watching the guilt spill from his eyes all over his features, or that he’d kept her in the dark this long. Guardians, how she wanted to be upset, to be petty and pouting and let him steam in his guilt for what he’d put her through, for the lies and deceit and the pain of rejection she’d gone through. But they had a limited moment in this room, and time was almost up; she could tell by the way Khayrivven’s form inched away from the wall toward the door. Was she really going to waste those precious minutes by poisoning them with a silence of her own?
Instead of giving him a piece of her mind, Lory pushed away from the windowsill, stepping in front of Khayrivven and placing her hand on the gold embroidery above his heart. “I would love to yell at you right now for not finding a way to tell me sooner.”
Genuine fear flickered in Khayrivven’s eyes as he peered down at her, unblinking.
“But I won’t. If Lenya has his eyes and ears everywhere in the academy, I’m sure this will be the last time in a while I’ll get to do this.”
He was opening his mouth to object, agree, or ask what she was talking about; Lory didn’t care. With the force of the embers coming to life inside her belly, Lory kissed him, relishing the moment of stiff surprise and, even more so, the moment his lips unfroze, beginning a dance of heated hunger that reminded Lory of the edge of starvation she’d come close to one too many times when she’d lived on the streets.
A wave of pleasure swept over her as his arms wrapped around her, tucking her tight to his chest, and he spun them around so her back was against the wall instead. The luxurious feel of his body… Lory could have died in that moment, and she’d have had no regrets.
