assassin followed, ignoring the envious and speculative glares aimed at him. Ileni watched him, too, her whole body tense with the excitement thrumming through the air.
As soon as the door closed, the cavern exploded with noise: “I thought it would be Jadbez—” “Do you think he’s being sent to the Imperial Academy? I heard—” “He’s been doing extra training in Tanfirian. His target must be—”
Sorin’s face had gone stony, and he was staring at his bowl without eating. Every line of his body was rigid with tightly controlled . . . not anger, exactly. Rebellion?
It seemed impossible, but once she thought the word, she recognized it. She had felt the same herself, when her destiny started slipping away, wanting to strike out and change the path narrowing in front of her. Wanting to be free of her own future. She, too, had always controlled herself.
Something sharp and daring surged through her. She picked up her bowl, walked over to the place Ravil had vacated, and pushed his abandoned bowl away to make room for hers.
Everyone stared at her, but it was Sorin’s eyes she met. “Am I allowed to sit here?”
“I don’t know,” Sorin said evenly.
“So I suppose I should play it safe?” She made it a challenge.
He looked back at his own plate, but not before she saw the gleam in his eyes. It was the sort of gleam that, on anyone else, would have been accompanied by a smile. “You should,” he said. But it didn’t sound like a warning. It sounded like an invitation.
She slid onto the bench next to him, her sleeve almost brushing his. The boy on her other side, gangly and blond, watched with thin lips pressed together. “Where is he being sent?”
Sorin spooned some porridge into his mouth. “I don’t know.”
“Why weren’t you sent?”
Only the faint rippling of muscles beneath gray sleeves gave his tension away. He chewed and swallowed before answering. “I don’t know that either. But if the master believes Ravil is best suited for this mission, he is right.”
Ileni raised her eyebrows. “How trusting of you.”
He shot a sideways glare at her. The gleam was gone. “You’ve met him. Do you think he’s a man who makes mistakes?”
Ileni swallowed. The tingle of daring vanished as fast as it had come, leaving only the sour taste of fear in her mouth. She moved her arm, which had almost been touching Sorin’s, closer to her body. She had been reckless enough for one day, and obviously this was a conversation best backed away from. “How many missions have you—”
Sorin moved like a snake uncoiling, lunging forward. She jerked to the side instinctively, and his arm brushed her hair as he grabbed the upraised arm of the blond boy on her other side.
“Don’t,” Sorin said. His voice was low and perfectly calm.
The other boy did something complicated with his wrist, almost pulling his arm free. Sorin did something equally complicated, and his grip held. The other boy glared at him. “She insulted the master!”
His voice was deliberately loud, and once again the room was dead silent. Everyone was looking at Ileni, a hundred pairs of hard eyes and faintly curled lips. The weight of their disgust was palpable, making her small and loathsome.
So they kill me now, Ileni thought, and was surprised by her sudden, fierce desire to live. She gathered up what magic she had, knowing it was not enough.
“She asked a question.” Sorin, too, raised his voice. “She has been answered. It’s over and done.”
“She spoke of the master with no respect at all,” the boy hissed. “You’re going to allow it?”
“I am,” Sorin said. “Because the master commanded me to allow it.”
The blond boy stared, breathing heavily. But he leaned back a fraction.
“What were his exact instructions?” Irun asked lazily, from the far end of the table. “That she be kept alive? Or that she also not be chastised for even the most filthy speech?”
The blond boy looked up eagerly, and
As soon as the door closed, the cavern exploded with noise: “I thought it would be Jadbez—” “Do you think he’s being sent to the Imperial Academy? I heard—” “He’s been doing extra training in Tanfirian. His target must be—”
Sorin’s face had gone stony, and he was staring at his bowl without eating. Every line of his body was rigid with tightly controlled . . . not anger, exactly. Rebellion?
It seemed impossible, but once she thought the word, she recognized it. She had felt the same herself, when her destiny started slipping away, wanting to strike out and change the path narrowing in front of her. Wanting to be free of her own future. She, too, had always controlled herself.
Something sharp and daring surged through her. She picked up her bowl, walked over to the place Ravil had vacated, and pushed his abandoned bowl away to make room for hers.
Everyone stared at her, but it was Sorin’s eyes she met. “Am I allowed to sit here?”
“I don’t know,” Sorin said evenly.
“So I suppose I should play it safe?” She made it a challenge.
He looked back at his own plate, but not before she saw the gleam in his eyes. It was the sort of gleam that, on anyone else, would have been accompanied by a smile. “You should,” he said. But it didn’t sound like a warning. It sounded like an invitation.
She slid onto the bench next to him, her sleeve almost brushing his. The boy on her other side, gangly and blond, watched with thin lips pressed together. “Where is he being sent?”
Sorin spooned some porridge into his mouth. “I don’t know.”
“Why weren’t you sent?”
Only the faint rippling of muscles beneath gray sleeves gave his tension away. He chewed and swallowed before answering. “I don’t know that either. But if the master believes Ravil is best suited for this mission, he is right.”
Ileni raised her eyebrows. “How trusting of you.”
He shot a sideways glare at her. The gleam was gone. “You’ve met him. Do you think he’s a man who makes mistakes?”
Ileni swallowed. The tingle of daring vanished as fast as it had come, leaving only the sour taste of fear in her mouth. She moved her arm, which had almost been touching Sorin’s, closer to her body. She had been reckless enough for one day, and obviously this was a conversation best backed away from. “How many missions have you—”
Sorin moved like a snake uncoiling, lunging forward. She jerked to the side instinctively, and his arm brushed her hair as he grabbed the upraised arm of the blond boy on her other side.
“Don’t,” Sorin said. His voice was low and perfectly calm.
The other boy did something complicated with his wrist, almost pulling his arm free. Sorin did something equally complicated, and his grip held. The other boy glared at him. “She insulted the master!”
His voice was deliberately loud, and once again the room was dead silent. Everyone was looking at Ileni, a hundred pairs of hard eyes and faintly curled lips. The weight of their disgust was palpable, making her small and loathsome.
So they kill me now, Ileni thought, and was surprised by her sudden, fierce desire to live. She gathered up what magic she had, knowing it was not enough.
“She asked a question.” Sorin, too, raised his voice. “She has been answered. It’s over and done.”
“She spoke of the master with no respect at all,” the boy hissed. “You’re going to allow it?”
“I am,” Sorin said. “Because the master commanded me to allow it.”
The blond boy stared, breathing heavily. But he leaned back a fraction.
“What were his exact instructions?” Irun asked lazily, from the far end of the table. “That she be kept alive? Or that she also not be chastised for even the most filthy speech?”
The blond boy looked up eagerly, and
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