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But it doesn’t seem wise to let her comments go completely unchallenged among all these witnesses. If I want my noble schoolmates to treat me as more than dirt, I have to prove I can give as good as I get.
I direct Toast to slow between the next couple of targets so that we fall back in the procession. With my bow temporarily slung over my shoulder again, I let my hand slide over my parted skirt and my fingers hook around a small hilt in a sheath fixed to my thigh.
I might be playing noble, but I earned my unrequested title as the Hand of Kosmel.
Romild nudges her steed past me with a fierce flash of her eyes. I nod respectfully—and flick out my hand between us right as she passes.
Her horse makes it a few more steps before her saddle sways to the side. My knife is already tucked back in its hiding place.
Romild lets out a strangled noise and gropes for the horse’s mane, but it’s too late. The saddle with its split girth slides right down the horse’s side, and she tumbles to the forest floor with an audibleoomph.
As she scrambles to her feet, I hum to myself. “Perhaps General Stavros prefers an assistant who knows how to stay on her horse.”
Several of the other students have stopped to watch. No one can prove I actually did anything, so no one makes an accusation.
But they all know the accident probably wasn’t a coincidence.
Benedikt’s gaze rests on me with apparent delight. The other expressions aimed at me look newly wary… with both respect and hostility.
I send Toast trotting past her again, and Romild tracks me with furious eyes. My magic wriggles between my ribs again—wanting to shield myself, wanting to heave her away—and I tense against it.
She’s only a minor threat. Nothing that should bother me much.
Except the next second, an all-too-familiar agony spikes out from my sternum. I clamp my teeth hard against a gasp of pain.
Gods smite me, whatnow? An incident that small has never set off my power’s full backlash before.
But it definitely is today. The pain burns through my organs, and my hands shake where I’m clutching the reins.
Ivy?Julita says tentatively, but I can’t say anything to reassure her right now.
Toast sidesteps beneath me. A quiver runs through his frame.
The stallion can sense that something’s off with his rider. If I’m not careful, I’m going to end up tumbling off too.
I can’t let anyone else see what I’m grappling with. I can’t let them suspect there’s anything wrong with me.
And I have to stay on this cursed horse.
I focus on the thud of his hooves against the forest floor. I flex my thigh muscles against his sides, assuring him that I’m still here. I rock the reins in a gentle rhythm.
My awareness of the stallion’s presence, the flow of his life with his breaths and his own thumping heart, helps me tune out the wrenching sensation inside me. With a few more breaths, the throbbing subsides.
My back feels drenched in sweat. I hold it straight as I gather myself to make another attempt with the blasted bow.
I’m okay. I made it through—I made it through all of it.
But how much longer can I keep that up if the cracks in my soul are widening?
Fourteen
As I pass the tapestry that shows Signy facing the emperor’s army, I can’t help shooting her exalted figure a wistful glance. Conquering grave wrongs must be a damned sight easier when you’ve got the full host of godlen gazing down on you with their blessings.
Of course, I’m not sure we’d want to alert our divine overseers to the trouble we’re facing right now. Who’s to say they’d help us in our quest rather than decide the scourge sorcerers have already gone too far and it’s time to rain down godly retribution?
As I reach for the sconce, I drop my voice to a murmur. “Are you sure he’ll be down there now? And he won’t mind me showing up an hour early?”
Julita laughs.Alek would live his whole life in the archives if he could get away with it. I often arrived early to get a more detailed account of the latest discoveries he unearthed.
