Death Marked (Death Sworn #2)(22)

Cyn was being cautious, and Evin was being somber? Even after one day, Ileni could tell that meant something was wrong. She glanced over at Lis and was almost relieved to see bitter sullenness settled on her face.

Then Evin twitched his shoulders. “We’re wasting time. What should we do for the next few days? I have some ideas.”

No one answered. Cyn watched Evin with her eyebrows drawn together, while Lis remained stone-faced. Clearly, they all knew something Ileni didn’t, and they had no intention of sharing it.

Hunching her shoulders, Ileni turned and stared over the edge of the plateau. Against the bright blue sky, two slate-gray pillars rose into the air, their sides unnaturally smooth and even. They looked like long, narrow stone triangles with their points cut off.

“Dramatic, aren’t they?” Evin said, stepping up to her side. Whatever had been on his face earlier was gone; he looked like he hadn’t had a serious thought in a decade.

But that exchange had been a good reminder: Don’t underestimate anyone. He was an imperial sorcerer. He used magic to fight. And he, too, might know the truth about the lodestones.

Evin’s eyebrows lifted almost to his unruly hair, and Ileni realized that she was staring at him. She resisted her first impulse and didn’t look away. The breeze stirred her hair, so that it tickled her face and floated a few stands in front of her eyes. “What are they?”

Evin grimaced. “Somewhere you never want to be.”

“The Judgment Spires,” Cyn filled in, somewhat more helpfully, from behind them. “Karyn will stick students up there sometimes, for punishment. When serious punishment is required.”

“Fortunately,” Evin said, “Karyn has never sent anyone to the spires for slacking off.”

“Are we slacking off?” Cyn said.

“Not yet,” Evin said. “But we’re about to.”

“We’ll be in trouble later,” Cyn warned.

“So we will.” Evin made a tossing motion with his hand. A ball of colored lights flew up from his palm, spun in the air, and exploded in a shower of rainbow sparks. “But the fun thing about later is that it’s not right now.”

Cyn rolled her eyes, a bit too dramatically. “Do whatever you want. Ileni, let’s keep going.”

Ileni was still trying to think of a way to ask Evin about the lodestones. “I . . . um . . . I need a break.”

Cyn wrinkled her nose dismissively, and Ileni tensed. But before she could strike back—or change her mind—Cyn stepped away from the edge in a long swish of skirts. “All right, then. Lis?”

“What, because your preferred partner isn’t available?” Lis said.

Ileni turned around, feeling the abyss at her back. She was just in time to catch the poisonous look Lis shot her.

Cyn wielded her words like blades, sharp and deliberate. “Really, Lis, you should get used to being second choice. It’s going to happen a lot in your life.”

“I volunteer to be third choice,” Evin said promptly. He propped one elbow back, resting it on thin air, and tilted his head at Cyn. “In fact, if there’s a fourth place available . . .”

Lis ignored him. She glared at her sister. “Someday, you’ll realize that not everybody loves you as much as you think they do. I’m looking forward to that moment.”

“How nice,” Cyn said. “It’s not as if you have much to look forward to.”

“What about that slacking?” Evin said hastily as Lis stepped forward. “We all have that to look forward to. I’m brimming with anticipation.”

Lis made a sound that was almost a snarl. Her gaze snagged on Ileni, and her mouth worked as if she was tasting something sour. “And I’d imagine you’ve never been anyone’s first choice in your life.”

“You’re wrong,” Ileni said, but her voice cracked. She had always thought she was first . . . but it had been an illusion. Only her power had mattered. She hadn’t even been first to Tellis, not in the end.

And she had never dreamed she might come first to Sorin.


Ileni stood in front of the mirror that night, marveling that she looked the same. Soon after that morning’s conversation, the training plateau had been taken over by a dozen younger students, whom Cyn had dismissively referred to as “noble novices.” The advanced students had gone to the dining cavern for lunch, and then Ileni had spent the rest of the afternoon training in her room, despite an invitation from Evin and Cyn to join them in some sort of flying game—and despite Lis’s clear delight that she had declined.

She stared at her reflection for a long time, feeding herself reasons for not killing the four people who propped up the Empire, reasons more substantial than I don’t want to.

Or, worse: I like them. They don’t deserve to die.

Those thoughts were betrayals, signs of weakness, so she came up with others. Reasons that would make sense to Sorin.

I don’t know enough yet.

There might be a better way.

The magic hummed within her, calling her a liar.

She had thought, in the Assassins’ Caves, that she was strong. She had wanted Sorin so desperately—she still wanted him—and she had left anyhow. But that had been nothing compared to this.

Sorin was a part of her, a piece of her heart. The constant ache inside her, the pain of ripping out that part, was her price for walking away from him. But magic was all of her. She wasn’t sure she was strong enough to walk away from it.