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I close my eyes against the wrench of uncomfortable emotion. That’s what I’m really scared of, isn’t it?
What I want. What I can’t have.
I tip forward to rest my forehead against the cool wood. My pulse hammers on. But I can’t quite make myself reach the handle again.
Coming to the college was never about me, not really. I don’t know if I believe there’s even the slightest chance that the gods would grant me absolution no matter how this turns out.
But there are far more lives on the line beyond just my own. Beyond the few that were lost tonight.
I wasn’t prepared for this task. I don’t know how to be the woman Julita was—and her men wouldn’t want me even if I could fake it.
I do know how to take a stand.
Julita came back. Julita could have floated off into the peaceful darkness she deserves, but she came back to keep fighting.
And to make sure I was okay.
She’s already given her life once to protect the kingdom from the consequences the scourge sorcerers could rain down on us. How can I flee when I barely have a life to give up in the first place?
Maybe I can’t rewrite my story into a hero’s, but I’ll be damned if I let it be a coward’s tale.
With a few slow breaths, I trudge back toward the sofa. I grab the folded blanket off the shelf where it was tucked away and curl up on the cushions.
I committed myself to this course. I’m going to see it through.
Even if that choice is the end of me.
Twenty-Two
There he is, Julita crows as I step into the warm morning air of the outer courtyard.You just need to sneak close enough to overhear what he says.
It doesn’t look as if Wendos is going to be saying much of anything right now. He’s hunkered down on the grass off by the southeast corner of the yard where Julita said he often takes in some sun, currently alone.
As far as I can tell, he’s totally immersed in the book he’s propped open on his knee. At least that’ll make it easier for me to “sneak close.”
I wet my lips and meander along the side of the Quadring beneath the first-floor classroom windows. Sticking to the shadows, I shouldn’t be noticeable from any direction, but if someone happens to look my way, I could be simply taking a casual stroll.
Near the corners of the building, the stone walls jut out with a cluster of statues. The one at the southeast shows a figure meant to be King Melchior, the ruler of nearly a century past who shattered the tyranny of the Darium empire in Silana not long after Signy did in Velduny. He stands with bearded chin raised high and a majestic stone cloak draped over his broad shoulders, looming over several hunched figures gazing up at him in chiseled awe.
After a swift glance around to make sure no one’s looking my way, I hop into the midst of the fawning subjects. Tucked between two of the stone figures, no one should be able to see me at all unless they walk right up to the statue.
I pull out one of the books I borrowed from the archives for further plausible deniability. I suspect whatever the peasant girls and wandering spirits get up to in the Woudish folktales will be more interesting than listening to Wendos read anyway.
Julita doesn’t share my sentiments.Don’t get too distracted. If he’s going to talk to any of his co-conspirators, it’ll be quick.
I nod in acknowledgment, gritting my teeth against an argument. As soon as I woke up this morning, she started badgering me about what Wendos had gotten up to after the daimon assault at the ball, even more after I told her he’d seemed to think Romild had done something wrong.
So I’ll humor her for an hour or two before our next meeting. Maybe if nothing happens, she’ll finally reconsider the idea that her childhood tormenter is some kind of evil mastermind as well.
The vibe around the campus is noticeably uneasy after last night’s bloodshed. The students passing me walk briskly rather than ambling, sticking close to their friends. There’s still chatter, but I hear a lot more nervous giggles than I’m used to.
Our target doesn’t remain totally isolated. A couple of women pause to chat with him briefly about his reading material. Not long after they’ve headed off, a male classmate he seems mildly annoyed with descends on him with a series of questions about a recent lecture on “resource” accumulation or something like that.
Each time, I peek around King Melchior’s whirling stone cloak to watch for any unspoken signals passing between them. Nothing about the conversations looks remotely extraordinary.
“Do you know how long he and your brother kept up their experiments after they stopped hurting you?”
No, Julita admits.As soon as Borys realized I wasn’t going to let him bully me anymore, he got much more secretive. Anything else they did, it was well away from me.
