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As I lift my fork, my nerves buzz with apprehension. Thankfully, Petra speaks before I have to decide how to start a conversation with her.
She flicks her hand in a graceful motion toward the room at large. “You’ve only been at Sovereign College for a few weeks, haven’t you?”
I nod and stick to my standard cover story. “I only meant to come for a visit, but I ended up meeting Ster. Stavros at just the right time and found myself with a job.”
“I’ve seen that not everyone has been all that welcoming, but hopefully you haven’t regretted staying.”
I can’t suppress a laugh. She has no idea how much I have to regret.
But I can still truthfully say, “No, I like having the chance to accomplish more than I could back home.”
Petra gives a light laugh in return and tears the crescent roll on her plate in two. She has to hold it carefully in her right hand, where her little and ring finger are both missing—her dedication sacrifice, I assume.
Giving part of her dominant hand would have earned her a greater gift. I don’t sense her working any magic on me now, but some divine talents are more passive while still useful.
“You’ve found a few things to like, then,” she says. “Ster. Stavros hasn’t been too difficult an employer?”
Oh, that’s a topic and a half. I turn my answer over in my mind, deciding on the best way to word it. Last night’s tense conversation stands out starkly in my memory.
“He has high standards,” I say. “And he demands a certain amount of deference. But he isn’t unreasonable. I don’t mind having to work hard if the situation is fair.”
I wouldn’t say he’s been all that fair to you lately,Julita puts in.
Petra tips her head thoughtfully as she chews. “I haven’t attended many of his classes, but he does seem to have a good balance between being supportive and firm.”
A little of my own curiosity bubbles up. “You’re in the leadership division, aren’t you? Why have you joined any of the military classes?”
The corner of Petra’s mouth kicks upward in a crooked smile that looks a little odd on her otherwise dignified face. “My parents have always maintained that it’s important for us all to be able to defend ourselves and what we care about if need be. You never know when you might end up under threat with no one with more expertise to call on for help. And everyone says Ster. Stavros is the best to learn from.”
The smile gives her a more youthful appearance than before. I assumed she was late in her schooling, a couple of years older than me, but suddenly I’m not so sure.
“How long haveyoubeen taking classes here?” I find myself asking.
“A little over a year now,” she says, which means if she started at the college at eighteen like most nobles do, she won’t be more than nineteen now. I’m actually her senior, though not by much. “Also, I honestly enjoy the physical exertion of the sparring. Haven’t you found activities here that you enjoy even though they’re not part of your official focus?”
I shrug. “Of course. I appreciate the chance to go riding when I get it. And there are a lot more books in the library than I had access to at home—I’m certainly not reading about warfare all day long. But having fists thrown at you isn’t most people’s idea of a good time.”
“I suppose not.” Petra keeps smiling at me, though I still get the sense she’s studying me as much as I am her. “But it’s appeared that you’re not all that concerned about being like ‘most people’ either. That’s one of the reasons I thought it might be nice to talk.”
One of the reasons. Gods only know what the others are.
Julita hums as if in agreement.There’s definitely more to this overture than she’s letting on.
“Well, thank you,” I say awkwardly, not sure how else to answer her.
We eat in silence for a few minutes while I wonder if I’m giving away something uncouth in my gestures or expressions. What does she believe she’s learned about me so far?
Does she think I might be acting against her family? What will she do if she decides I am?
Petra pops one last piece of roll into her mouth and leans back in her chair as she swallows. “You became friendly with Esmae very quickly. It must be difficult, her leaving so abruptly.”
It sounds like an off-hand remark, but I have to stop my spine from stiffening. Stavros told me that the king decided to put out an official story that Esmae returned home rather than reveal her death and all the complicated circumstances around it.
After a week or two without her turning up, people will start to assume she was waylaid on her journey and murdered. I’m not sure if her family will find that more comforting than the idea that she’d become a murderer herself, but it’s not up to me anyway.
Good riddance,Julita mutters.
As much as I can’t regret my act of self-defense, a lump rises in my throat with the memories of the meals I shared here with Esmae when I thought we were friends. It’s a particularly uncomfortable sort of loss, missing a person while also feeling ashamed that they managed to deceive you so thoroughly.
