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You know,Julita murmurs,he does have a point.
Maybe so, but all the same— “Itwasriven magic, though, because that’s the closest thing to a ‘gift’ I have.”
Stavros lifts his shoulders in a subtle shrug. “Does the source of the magic matter if the end result was the same? Ifanyperson, including myself, would have trouble controlling our gift in the same situation, then I don’t see how you can blame the riven part of you for it. Or really blame yourself at all. And even with all that going on, you mastered it the moment you realized someone had been hurt.”
“Someone did get hurt all the same,” I can’t help saying.
“Ivy, I’ve seen trained soldiers with gifts stumble in the face of unexpected attacks more times than I can count. The fact that you regained control so quickly in a situation you’d never experienced isimpressive, not anything I could call weakness.”
I swallow thickly. I had no idea he was thinking about the situation this way.
I don’t know if I can too.
My voice drops to a whisper. “I hate it. I hate that I did it. I hate that I lost control for even a few seconds.”
A shadow crosses Stavros’s face. “I know. I could see it when you told me. That’s the other reason I didn’t think I needed to be concerned. Unlessyou’reconcerned that it’s gotten too much—if you want to put an end to this whole recruitment scheme—”
“No,” I interrupt. “It’s not as if I even could at this point.”
He considers me with total seriousness—and a twitch of his head that tells me how intently he’s studying my expression. “You could. As far as they know, you have no idea who any of them are, so they might leave you alone regardless. But even if we feared they wouldn’t, we’d find a way to extricate you and keep you safe. If that’s what you want.”
He sounds so certain I believe him. But the idea of fleeing from this mess doesn’t budge the resolve balled inside me.
“I want to know we don’t have to worry about these psychopaths hurting anyone anymore. I’m getting closer—they’re showing themselves to me more. I’m not abandoning ship now.”
A small smile crosses Stavros’s face. “That’s exactly what I assumed you’d say, Lady Thief. I just wanted you to know you have the option. I mean it.”
The emphatic words and the affectionate nickname he hasn’t used since he found out what I am set me off-balance. I don’t know what to say other than, “Thank you.”
He snorts. “I should be the one thanking you. You’re taking on the lion’s share of the risk.” He hesitates. “And I shoulddefinitelylet you return to bed.”
Something about the way he says it and the fact that he doesn’t adjust his own position as if he’s going to lie back down hold me in place. “Are you going to be able to get back to sleep all right?”
Stavros chuckles faintly and rubs his forehead. “Nights like this I’d normally read something light to settle my mind. But the reading is more of a stress than a comfort these days.”
He glances toward the bookcase beyond his bed—the one I looked over when I found myself in this room a few weeks ago, after I was stabbed.
One corner of my mouth quirks upward. “Is that what your adventure stories are for? To put you to sleep? They mustn’t be very thrilling ones.”
The former general looks a bit sheepish. “There have been nights when the tactic backfired and instead I was up hours longer than I’d have preferred. But they’re comforting in a way—all the action and excitement without the pain and the grit you’d have if it were real.”
“And you hide those tales away in here because…”
He fixes me with a look that’s only mock-stern. “Even a former general has certain appearances to keep up.”
I can’t restrain a laugh. And then, for reasons I couldn’t totally explain if asked, I find myself saying, “I said before that I could read to you. If you won’t take it as an insult, the offer still stands. It might help settle my thoughts too.”
I tense automatically, half expecting him to snap at me like he did before. But Stavros simply goes still as if taking the suggestion in.
“All right,” he says finally, his voice a bit stiff in a way I can’t decipher. “Only for a chapter or two. Close the curtains so you can put on the light without being seen from the window. I’ll pick out a decent story.”
I keep behind the heavy folds of fabric as I drag the curtains across the high window. By the time I’ve lit the lantern by the chair in the corner, Stavros has set one of the slim leatherbound volumes on the corner of the bed.
I pick it up and settle into the chair, tucking my legs on the seat beside me. With the former general’s gaze on me, I feel abruptly awkward.
Flipping the book open, I focus on the pages rather than the man across the room from me. “Charlster’s Journey: A heroic tale of the mountain kingdoms. Chapter One. It started with a fire in the stables.”
I read on through a typically spirited beginning about an intrepid stablehand saving a countess’s prized horses and being granted the responsibility of carrying an urgent message across the mountains to the realm’s king. As my voice carries through the room, Stavros sinks down on the bed.
