Page 47

“But upon reflection,” I continue, “if I never have to see pearl heart again, I’ll die happy.” I raise my hands. “Not that I’m planning to die anytime soon.”

He stares at me, blinking, then tiredly shuts his eyes.

I lean in. “Can the queen transfer me to her palace?”

“Transfers are trivial. Name another.”

Did that mean he accepted this, and would grace me another gift? “Can Nicostratus teach me some basic shielding skills?”

His eyes flash. “Is thereanythingyou want from me?”

I blink. A reward fromhim...

Quin heaves himself up with his cane and turns his back on me. I bolt off the bed and he pauses before he goes. “Take me with you the next time you sneak out.”

* * *

Florentius has streaks of red on one cheek that possibly fit the shape of my hand. I wince and throw him a smile. “I heard you brought me back from the brink of extinction.”

His hands pause, pulsing with magic. “You were lucky the king’s aklas banded together and donated blood.”

“Thank you,” I murmur.

Both cheeks flush. “You, ah, saved me too.”

I rock back on my chair, fingers linked behind my head, and look at him. “This counts as bonding.”

A shimmery layer races up the arch, and I suspect its speed is purposeful. I laugh, but deeper inside is a tender pang.How valiantly Florentius fought for those children.

He whisks around but his dramatic exit is blocked by Makarios and Mikros, racing along the balcony side by side.

“Sorry!” they cry.

Makarios says, “We were detained. But we checked the body like you asked.”

Mikros nods. “There’s a burn mark on the victim’s tongue, as you suspected.”

“Thanks,” I say, and pretend to jot down a note. “I want to review everything I have, read through these books again.”

Florentius glances at me and looks away. “With your skill, getting out of here in a few days would be considered miraculous.”

I think... I think there might be some praise in there.

“Hey,” Makarios says, clapping Florentius’s shoulder. He catches the sharp look that follows and quickly dusts at his robe instead. “A little more faith in our par-linea friend.”

“Indeed,” Mikros adds. “He has us.”

It’s quiet when they leave. Too quiet. Everywhere I look in my tight confines, I see Quin and his near-constant grimace. I still don’t know whether to commend him for trudging painfully up these stairs to be by my side in Nicostratus’s stead, or to condemn him for not being beside his brother, protecting him from abuse.He has to put on this show of weakness, vulnerability.Quin is too accustomed to putting on shows. He did it out of the royal city. He did it in front of his uncle. He expects his brother to do it too. Will there ever be a time he can simply be himself?

I close my eyes on whatever that future is supposed to look like and focus on now. Is Nicostratus training? Or resting? Or is he, perhaps, being bullied?

Three anxious evenings later, in the presence of Chiron, I recreate the cure-key and step out of the Crucible. “Five days,” Chiron says in disbelief. He frowns. “You must have had help.”

“Definitely,” I confirm, and race the last steps to freedom. Swiftly and sneakily, I follow night shadows to the barracks and slink around the outer walls to the old, overgrown dog hole. I crawl through it.

The moon hangs low in an inky sky, casting gentle light over the barracks and training grounds. I pull up the hood of my dark cloak and merge into the shadows, waiting for the change of guard.

The door creaks as I slip into a dimly lit room, heavy with the scent of sweat and woodsmoke; Nicostratus’s keen soldier senses have him springing from his straw-stuffed mattress, a silver shield unfurling between us. He’s still in armour, as if anything might happen at any moment and he has to be ready. It has my stomach knotting.