“Right.” Lory remembered every last word of her conversation with Lord Brady Niely. No names had been mentioned, so whatever trails Khayrivven had handed over to the Triad must have been his own findings.
How she felt about not knowing, she wasn’t ready to explore—not after Khayrivven’s last words to her before they’d returned to the constraints of Ashthorn Ward.I heard you earlier, Lory.As if to mock her, the bell rang, almost lifting her out of her seat. Two ashlings darted through the closing doors, their eyes wild with terror at the close call, as the lock clicked behind them.
Her blood chilled, and all she could do was focus on those words Khayrivven had spoken to keep the nausea that came with the daily ritual at bay.
She had tried not to waste a thought on what he’d said because it could have meant anything between he was wildly in love and he’d never felt more than the undeniable attraction falling between them whenever they laid eyes on each other.
As if summoned by her thoughts, Khayrivven entered the room through the side door, one single ashling at the tip of his saber, and his face hewn from stone. Atop the dais, Brunn got to her feet, her eyes on the students sitting along the tables in the mess hall, searching, searching—until they landed on Lory.
Her mouth twitched in a bitter grimace as she turned to Khayrivven, prompting him once more to pick someone to lead the knife or do it himself.
That day, Lory paid attention to every detail: The young woman at the tip of Khayrivven’s knife, Andromeda Behuli, was a red. She’d never talked to her, but she’d noticed the short halo of black curls and piercing blue eyes set in a golden face before, during training.
Anotherred. Just like Narica had been a red.
“Captain, I’m waiting,” Brunn reminded Khayrivven, and Lory could no longer tell who held the power in that situation—Brunn, who was forcing his hand, or Khayrivven, who was ready to stab his own to control the damage done, and hopefully get them to the crematorium alive.
That day, Khayrivven didn’t choose another student to kill the ashling. He wordlessly pulled a ten-inch blade from his boot and rammed it into Andromeda’s stomach.
The woman curled in on herself with a scream, her knees buckling and her shoulder hitting the ground hard as she toppled sideways, but Lory noticed a tiny detail that she hadn’t thought to look for before.
When Khayrivven pulled back his hand, it was bloodied but empty.
Lory couldn’t keep herself from wincing as Andromeda twitched and groaned, her pain near-tangible in the air.
Khayrivven was trying to save that woman, and bloody as his attempt might have been, if anyone could do it, it was him.
“Get her out of here,” Brunn commanded, already turning around.
This time, Lory’s eyes followed the Master of Veils rather than Khayrivven’s actions. She already knewhisintentions. Now she wanted to figure out whether Brunn was the member of the Triad that didn’t agree with all of Ulder’s ideals. Anees had mentioned something a long time ago, and Lory needed to know if there was someone in leadership who would look the other way while Khayrivven attempted to save human lives.
Brunn merely sat down in her chair and picked up the cup of steaming tea in front of her, no longer paying attention to Andromeda, whose writhing weakened and whose screams turned into whimpering as Khayrivven picked her up by the shoulders and dragged her off the platform toward where the cart would be waiting to transport her body to the crematorium.
“A little faster,” Ycken barked after him, the general half-on his feet as if he was ready to leap after the dying woman and end her then and there.
When Lory’s eyes snapped back to Brunn, the woman’s hand was quivering enough to spill a few drops of her tea.
Get her out of here.A part of Lory wondered if Brunn’s command had reached farther than to the crematorium—if she might have meant to tell Khayrivven to get Andromeda out of Ashthorn.
The moment Khayrivven disappeared and the door closed behind him, students started moving to get their breakfast, barely a murmur on their lips. No one questioned the kill, and no one brought up Narica’s final words, as if life could go on as ever and this whole camel dump of a school wasn’t at the heart of the biggest conspiracy Brestolya had ever seen.
Even without Ulder’s strive for greatness, Narica had been right. Ashthornwasa lie. The students were magic wielders in a land where magic was forbidden, and they were handed access to more power through training. But not only that—if Aiden’s book had anything to do with this, Ashthorn wasn’t the only lie. The Great Purge was, too.
If only Lory could figure out how exactly it was a lie.
“Let’s get something to eat.” Anees got to her feet, elegantly sweeping through the rows of ashlings to get a plateful of fried eggs and some of the dark bread Lory had only ever seen at the academy so far, Bleek and Washings filing in behind her.
For a heartbeat, Lory hesitated, then she spotted Thal at the side of the line, and she hopped to her feet, beelining straight at him.
“Good morning, Elory,” Thal rumbled in that humorous tone Lory knew was mostly his personality, but theexpression in Thal’s eyes was serious. “I trust you had a successful evening?”
Lory simply nodded, throwing her arms around Thal. “If you count not dying as successful, then yes.”
Thal patted her between the shoulders, tugging on her braid with every gentle clap.
“Did I miss anything?” The question wasn’t really whether she’d missed anything, but whether they had already talked to Maes.
With a shrug, Thal slipped his arms off her, only to have Tabi pull her into a tight embrace. “Good morning, girl,” Tabi chimed for people in at least a ten-foot radius to hear, but when she pressed Lory against her, she whispered, “We need to talk. Jarek was right. Maes knew Narica, and with Andromeda being executed this morning, I wonder if there is something more going on.”
