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Anya’s not around, at least. The whole common room is deserted at the moment.
I raise an eyebrow at Julita in question, and she hums noncommittally.I never paid that much attention. You could simply call out her name—she’ll hear you.
And so will any dormmates also in their bedrooms. I’m not sure if it’s wise to make that much of a ruckus.
I hesitate and then start forward, thinking I can at least get closer before I call out. But just as I reach the line of doors on the right side of the room, near where Esmae was sitting that first day, the one a few paces away from me eases open.
My eyes lock with a familiar one-eyed gaze. That one eye flares wider… and Esmae moves to yank the door shut again.
I don’t think, only react on instinct. There isn’t time to snatch up one of my knives, but I fling myself forward and catch the door with the toe of my boot before it reaches the doorframe.
“Esmae, what’s the matter? I’m here to help. If someone’s been after you—”
“This really isn’t a good time,” Esmae squeaks out, but I push the door wider. And then I stare.
A hasty cloth bandage has been pressed to Esmae’s chest just above the neckline of her gown, spots of dried blood showing through. The fabric droops with her abrupt jerk backward, revealing an edge of a cut—shallow slash of raw pink that’s no longer actively bleeding.
My heart stops. “They attacked you too. I was worried… Who was it? Why haven’t you been to the infirmary? We need to tell the guards—”
Esmae takes another step back, her face going so tight that my words die in my throat. I follow her into the room automatically, distantly taking in the perfect order of the space—the bed neatly made, the books all lined up at exactly the same depth on the bookcase.
“Why don’t you sit down?” Esmae says in a strange voice that makes me wonder if she’s injured worse than I can tell. She motions to the chair at her small desk.
I move toward it, but only to grip the top to steady myself. “We have to get you to a medic to see to that cut. And if you know who came after you, we can…”
I falter for the second time as Esmae positions herself between me and the door. She reaches toward her bookcase and picks up something off one of the shelves.
It’s just a letter opener, a thin blade with a wooden curlicue at the top. But she holds it like a dagger.
Ivy, something doesn’t feel right about this, Julita murmurs, as if she’s afraid of being overheard.
No, it doesn’t. I swallow thickly, clutching the chair tighter. “Esmae, what’s going on?”
She smiles faintly and reaches toward her throat—to the pendant that matches the one she gave me—absently, as if she’s barely aware of the movement. “I thought you were still in the infirmary. The medics took your necklace off. I should have considered that.”
I guess they did. I’d gotten the necklace so recently I hadn’t thought to look for it.
But her odd comment brings to mind the tingle of magic I sensed in it.
“Can you— You can tell where it is? They’re magically connected?” I eye her pendant with a deeper lurch of my gut. “Why would you want to know where I am?”
“You’ve been going all over the place.” Esmae rotates the handle of the letter opener between her fingers, her gaze never leaving me. “You said you’d barely spoken to Julita in years, but that didn’t stop you from digging and digging behind my back.”
Several fragments from the past couple of weeks slide together in a sickening collision. I sink into the chair, but only so I can rest my left hand on my thigh right by the overlapping strips of fabric that hide one of my knives.
“She disappeared,” I say quietly. “Even if we weren’t close anymore, it’s natural that I’d be worried, isn’t it? Esmae, how did you get that cut?”
“I don’t know,” she snaps, her voice laced with venom. “But I’m guessing it has something to do with you. What’s your gift, really?”
The voice last night, the one I wanted to believe I hallucinated, echoes up from my memory.I’ll aim the backlash at the one who attacked you.
Why would Esmae hide a wound? Why wouldn’t she get help?
Unless she was afraid the injury would prove something else she wanted to keep hidden.
What if I did tap into my magic yesterday… and the healing power I called on dug its claws into her to balance the scales? Just like the voice promised.
My throat has closed so tightly it takes me a few seconds to regain my voice. “I’m more interested in hearing about your gift now. How exactly do you carry messages across an entire country?”
