Death Marked (Death Sworn #2)(64)

“Sure,” Girad said, rolling his eyes. “I could have done it after the game, too. Follow me.”

Evin reached down and tousled Girad’s mop of brown hair. Girad ducked away, scrunching up his nose, and a pang went through Ileni.

Once, she would have done the same—been confident enough of affection to avoid it. She found herself fixated on Evin’s hand as it slid off Girad’s head and came to rest on the boy’s shoulder.

Girad slid away, pulled open a narrow black door, and headed into the interior of the building. The rest of them followed.

Inside, the walls were painted starkly white, dotted regularly with doors and large open windows. Through the windows, Ileni could make out rooms with beds, rooms with tables, and rooms with desks and chairs. Every single room was stuffed to bursting with children, and every single child seemed to be shouting. The noise echoed back and forth between the walls, making her feel like she was inside a very loud, very badly played drum. But there were also a fair amount of adults—all women, all wearing bright yellow or orange robes. Ileni couldn’t resist asking, as they turned a corner, “Are they the Black Sisters?”

Evin nodded distractedly.

“So why are they called the Black Sisters?”

Judging from Evin’s look, that was a stupid question, but he was too kind to say so. He opened his mouth just as a wave of children turned a corner and descended upon them in a running, screaming mass.

Girad whirled, and Ileni was surprised to see real fear on his face. Without thinking, she reached for him, and was even more surprised when he lifted his arms to her. She hoisted him onto her hip.

Two thin arms wrapped around her neck. In a small voice, Girad said, “Those boys are mean to me.”

“Well,” Ileni said, “if they’re mean to you now, I’ll freeze them all with a spell.” With magic she had sworn not to use anymore. Why was it so hard to remember that?

Girad rested his head on her shoulder and closed his eyes. “I tried that already. It just made them meaner.”

What was she supposed to say to that? Ileni settled for tightening her grip until the older children were past, at which point Girad wriggled out of her arms as if her holding him was an indignity.

He led them around that corner into another hall, where a group of toddlers were all crying at the tops of their lungs while an orange-robed woman tried to coax them into moving forward. By the time the four of them entered a small, yellow room filled with wailing babies, Ileni’s head felt like it was being battered with hot rocks.

The wailing was something else, though. It was more than annoying. It made her muscles vibrate.

There were ten babies in the room, in rows of roughly hewn wooden cradles. In the corner, a woman dozed in a large chair. How she could sleep through all that crying was beyond Ileni, but her eyes were shut and her chest heaved rhythmically up and down.

“This is the temporary nursery,” Girad said. “It’s where they decide which babies they’ll keep.”

Ileni bit her lip. “What do they do with the babies they don’t keep?”

Girad shrugged. “There are three new ones. In the corner, over there.”

Over there was near the sleeping woman. Ileni started to cross the room. The woman’s eyes immediately snapped open, and she fixed Ileni with a glare.

“Um,” Ileni said. “Hi.”

Even through the crying, she could hear Arxis snort.

“We’re from the Academy,” Evin said. She hadn’t realized he was right behind her, and his voice—crisp, martial—made her jump. “One of these babies’ mothers donated her magic. Her child will remain with the Sisters.”

“Right.” The woman sounded like she was still asleep, or would strongly prefer to be. “Which one?”

Silence—except, of course, for the crying.

“Um,” Ileni said, and bit her lip. “One of the recent arrivals. A girl.”

The woman lifted her hand barely an inch and gestured at the three cradles against the yellow wall. “They’re all girls.”

Of course they were.

With an effort, Ileni bit back another um and approached the cradles. Two babies looked back from tiny bright eyes; the other slept soundly, eyelashes resting on red cheeks. Aside from that, there was no difference between them. She couldn’t have said which was the dead girl’s if that baby had just been pointed out to her two minutes ago.

Arxis’s gaze burned into her back. Maybe he was right. What difference did it make which one she saved?

“Couldn’t you keep all three?” she asked.

Evin stepped on the side of her foot. The woman straightened the tiniest bit. “Why would I do that?”

“Because I’m not sure which one—”

Evin stepped harder, and Ileni broke off with a yelp. The woman shook her head. “If you don’t know, why are you here? Her mother should have marked her. Too bad for her if she didn’t.”

“Wait,” Ileni said, as the woman’s eyes slid shut. “I do know. I mean, I will. I can . . .” The woman peeled her eyes open and examined her balefully. Ileni took a deep breath. “They’re not identical. There must be a difference between them.”

The woman let out an aggrieved breath.

“One of them cries a lot,” Girad said.