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That girl gave up both her ears and didn’t even get a gift,Julita informs me with a horrified shudder I can feel. My gut knots.
It’s always a risk making a sacrifice. If the godlen you’re appealing to decides you’re asking for more than you’ve offered or that your intentions are dishonest, they can refuse.
But of course, you can’t reattach whatever you’ve already chopped off or pulled out.
Anya clearly got a gift of her own, whatever that trick with the light is meant to be. She lifts a plate off the counter, swivels around, and catches me glaring at her.
Her lips curve in disdain. She raises her voice to carry across the ten feet between us. “What are you looking at?”
I shouldn’t say anything at all. I should drop my gaze and walk away as if I’m not seething.
I’ve already got enough potential enemies in this place.
But my instincts react to the direct question before I can rein them in. My mouth pops open, my answer just as loud. “Nothing much, obviously.”
Several gazes jerk our way. Alek stares at me, probably cursing me out in his head for making a scene, as if she didn’t deserve it for shoving him around.
While Anya bristles, I raise my chin and convince my feet to get moving as if I’ve got better things to do than listen to her response.
Which I do. My stomach is gnawing on itself now, and who knows when I’ll ever get to dig into food this fine after I’ve left the college for good?
My heart thuds a little faster as I weave through the crowd, but Anya’s dignity saves me from having her chase me down hurling insults. I’m sure I’ll pay for the jab some other way in the future, but future-me can deal with that.
Supposedly the gift she asked for was simply to light things up,Julita says.I’ve heard she gave up several toes and wears special shoes to compensate. She wants to marry some prominent provint or baron, and maybe she figured a wife who could give him a divine glow would be an excellent selling point. But somewhere in the past several years, she figured out that she could make the light intense enough to be painful.
And she uses it to skip the dinner line. Why am I not surprised? That’s probably the biggest concern Anya faces in her entire day.
One of the counters near the back of the room has barely any line at all. I grab a plate off that one, figuring whatever’s unpopular with nobles still has to beat fringe scroungings by a mile.
When I scan the tables, the first person my gaze catches on is one I can’t go chat with. Casimir isn’t likely to know much about the professors from the other divisions anyway, I’d imagine.
Unless Ster. Torstem has a taste for courtesans.
I realize abruptly that the man who stirred up so many feelings in me this afternoon has two plates in front of him. It looks like he’s dutifully cutting the slab of meat on one into bite-sized pieces… while the nobleman next to him strokes his shoulder, eyeing him likehe’sa delectable slab of meat.
Julita chuckles.His patrons do ask to be spoiled in the most childish ways sometimes. I think the men are even worse for it than the women.
My stomach flips over. What else is Casimir going to do for his current patron after dinner?
I yank my eyes away. It’s not as if he hasn’t mentioned that he’s already taking on work in his chosen field.
It’s not as if I’m idiot enough to think I could pursue even a proper friendship with him, let alone more.
So the idea of how much he’d offer to people whoaren’tme definitely doesn’t leave a lingering wobble in my gut. That can’t be anything but my hunger catching up with me.
Where else can I sit?
I notice Romild, the woman who wanted the job as Stavros’s assistant, glowering at me like her eyes could fling daggers at me. I’ll give that table a wide berth.
Oh, there’s Esmae, wandering between the seats with her own plate deciding on a spot. She glances over at the same moment and waves for me to join her.
She’s in the leadership division too—and she’s the only person here outside of Julita’s men who’s been at all welcoming. She might know a thing or two about Torstem.
We settle into seats at one end of a table while the three women already eating at the other side continue chatting away as if we’re not there.
“What did you do to Anya?” Esmae asks. “People are talking as if she’s about to declare war.”
I snort and wield my fork. “I said a grand total of three words. After she’d already done a damned sight worse to a few people simply for being where she wanted to be.”
