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And there are multiple women stuck in that closed-off space day in and out?
The mismatched shingles dappling the roof look particularly uneven farther along the stretch of the branch. I edge along it, setting my hand on the roof for balance.
If only I could peer right through the mottled surface, make my own little window—
My magic springs up inside my chest, jerking this way and that.
I can. I can, if only I let it.
I shut my eyes and grimace. Fuck,no. When will it get the message?
But my power really isn’t accepting my reluctance now. I can’t say I’m in any immediate danger, but at the gritting of my teeth, pain spikes through my chest. The riven magic lashes at me from throat to gut like I’ve got a feral cat scrabbling to break free of my flesh.
I gasp and bow over the roof, groping for balance.
Ivy?Julita asks frantically as the agony sears deeper.
It’s attacking me because I wouldn’t give myself a magical view into the attic on a whim? Gods save me, what will it feel like the next time I really am in danger?
I press the side of my face against the cold, rough shingles, damp now with the thickening rain. The solid sensation grounds me a little.
The turmoil raging inside me ebbs by increments. When it’s more a rabid mouse than a feral cat, I ease myself up and slip the knife from the sheath on my thigh.
It only takes a few furtive movements to pry up a couple of the shingles, revealing the boards beneath. There, no wretched magic needed at all.
Bending close again, I rest my ear against the thinned surface of the roof. Muffled voices reach me through the wood.
There’s a soft murmur of blurred-together words, ending with, “—without you.”
Then a gruff voice I recognize as Ster. Torstem’s. “I understand. But you’re doing so well. I’m proud of you.”
The next murmur sounds more pleased.
Another feminine voice speaks up, this one huskier but louder. “It’s always our pleasure to serve.”
“I know it has been,” Torstem says. “And our plans are so close to coming to fruition. Soon you’ll be able to do everything I’ve promised.”
Their plans? His promises?
I strain my hearing, the wood rough against my cheek, but only silence follows.
Twenty-Six
Nobles seem to flout typical rules everywhere they go, but for some reason they respect the college library. Even with most of the tables full and students wandering amid the aisles in the early hours of the evening, a hush fills the vast room.
I meander along the bookcases and around the tables as if I’m casually making my way to a specific reference section. In reality, I’m peeking at the students around me and their reading material for anything that would raise my—or Julita’s—suspicions.
Herbal grimoire, she says as we pass one guy who’s peering intently at a huge tome.That could be a resource for darker intentions… but I’m pretty sure I’ve heard him talk about his studies to become a medic.
I can’t answer her here without being obvious, so I give my head a subtle tip of a nod and move on.
Really, checking up on the noble students’ studies is only an excuse to wander around. I’m hoping that Alek, scholar that he is, spends plenty of time in the library outside of our meetings—and some of it in the main room rather than the archives.
I wouldn’t want to be caught poking around down there on my own, but all students and staff are welcome in the library proper.
I’d like to give Alek the book I pilfered on his behalf before Stavros notices it and asks where I got it. When I explain at tomorrow’s meeting what I learned about Ster. Torstem and his hidden harlots today, I’m going to finesse the story a little.
The men don’t need to know I painted myself up as a prostitute.
