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Stavros mutters something insulting about the daimon and then thumps his false hand against the back of the sofa. “I’m making sure you see a medic first thing in the morning. And we’re only waiting until the morning because I don’t imagine there are any who can be spared yet.”
A shiver travels down my back. “I came across at least a couple of people they won’t have been able to do anything for.”
“Yes.”
A crackle of emotion runs through that word. The former general glowers across the room at something I suspect he can only see in his head.
His attention slides back to me. “I saw you running around in the fray. Looking like you were aiming to get more than a couple of papercuts.”
I grimace at him. “I was trying to help.”
One corner of his mouth curls upward. “I could tell. It was more than I saw any of my blasted students doing, for all their training. You might have saved a few of the dolts’ lives.”
I don’t know what to do with the warmth that’s crept into his voice. So, inanely, I find myself defending those dolts. “No one would have trained them to fight off rampaging daimon.”
“You figured it out somehow.”
“I just… I had to do something.” I look down at my hands and then back at him. “If the king isn’t listening, then what do we donow?”
Stavros leans against the back of the sofa, stretching his well-muscled legs out in front of him. “There isn’t much we can do other than what we’ve already been doing. The royal family can be more alert to the threat now. They’re dispatching extra guards to patrol the college—soldiers with gifts that should help calm the daimon if we need protection.”
More protection for everyone else. More chances of someone discovering whyIshould be put to death for me.
I swallow thickly. “Wonderful. Well, I didn’t have much opportunity to ferret out any secrets tonight considering how quickly the daimon crashed the party, but I’ll get right back to it in the morning. Whenever my official assistance isn’t needed.”
It occurs to me a half second too late that my last flippant remark could be taken as a jab. I hesitate, not sure if I should apologize.
I didn’t do anything wrong in the first place. But it’s dangerous to be on this man’s bad side.
To my shock, Stavros beats me to it.
He looks at his sprawled legs and then at me, with that tiny twitch to get a better focus on my face. “I appreciate your dedication to the cause. And your ‘official assistance’ has been better than I expected. I shouldn’t have snapped at you yesterday. It was a reaction unworthy of my training, and I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again.”
For what seems like the third time in as many minutes, I find myself staring at him.
A more typical grin crosses his lips. “You’ll make me feel even more like a lout if you keep looking at me like that. I might be an ass, but I’m fully capable of apologizing for it after the fact.”
I let out a bemused huff, still lost for words. Where’s Julita when I need her to guide me through this awkward conversation with a man she knew far better than I did?
Really, where’s Julita at all?
The reminder of her absence—and the thought of how this man and the others will react if she’s gone for good—chills me. I push those worries aside and focus on the peace offering Stavros has extended.
I can be a good enough sport to partly return the favor.
“I can understand it must be a difficult subject for you,” I venture.
“Yes. Well.” Stavros gazes vaguely across the room. His hand comes to rest on my ankle where my feet are tucked near him, buried in the folds of my gown, but he shows no sign he’s noticed he even made the gesture.
From his expression, I’m not sure he’s here at all.
“Both my mother and my father served as generals under King Dobri—Konram’s father—for more than twenty years, you know,” he says after a moment, his tone both light and bittersweet. “And both ultimately died as all glorious generals do, defending Silana. I knew I was going to follow in their footsteps from the moment I knew anything at all. I picked my gift to be of as much use in the field as possible. I made my sacrifice happily.”
He lowers his gaze to his other hand, the one currently a realistically sculpted replica. The warmth of his touch tickles up my leg.
“What was the gift?” I ask quietly, not wanting to break the moment.
“I can see a few moves ahead. The next several seconds, in a one-on-one fight. Sometimes several minutes, when observing the patterns of an entire army. Or rather, Icouldsee. It requires a certain amount of sustained concentration that my eyes are no longer capable of. So here I am, whiling out the rest of my days teaching Silana’s elite how to fight the battles I can’t.”
