Death Marked (Death Sworn #2)(65)

“What?”

Girad stood next to Evin, his small hand clasped in his brother’s. His round face was intent and serious. “I had to help out in the nursery last week, as punishment for . . .”—his eyes slid toward Evin—“something. One of them cries all the time.”

“Babies cry,” Evin said.

“Wait,” Ileni said. “Her mother died of childbed fever. She probably couldn’t nurse her. Was one of them hungrier than the others?”

“That one.” The woman nodded at the sleeping baby. “Wouldn’t take to the wet-nurse at first, either. It was like she’d forgotten how to eat.”

“Then that’s the one,” Ileni said.

The woman looked unconvinced. “You’re sure?”

“Yes,” Ileni said, with every ounce of confidence she could fake.

“All right, then.” The woman levered herself out of the chair and lumbered forward. She drew a piece of chalk from somewhere in her dress and smudged a black line across the baby’s forehead. Then, with far greater speed, she backed into her chair and settled into it again.

The baby didn’t move. Ileni wondered if she would live after all. If her mother hadn’t been able to feed her . . . but apparently, now there was a wet nurse. She didn’t know enough about babies to know what that meant.

One of the other babies let out a little mewling cry. Ileni looked at her, at her splotchy red face and tightly shut eyes, at her broad wrinkled forehead unmarked by a chalk line. The baby’s arms were crossed over her chest, tiny fingers curled under her chin. Ileni didn’t move until Evin took her by the arm and pulled her out of the room.

“Well done,” he said approvingly as soon as the four of them were back in the hallway.

“I don’t even know if it was the right baby,” Ileni said.

“Shh,” Evin hissed. “Even if it wasn’t. You did a good thing.”

A good thing. She should have been happy; it was what she wanted. To do something unmistakably good. But it was so paltry and insignificant. She had saved one baby. She, who could do so much more.

Her palm hurt, and she realized that her fingernails were digging into her skin. She forced herself to relax her hand. Things would be better. She would get back to the Academy, she would open the portal, and she would tell Sorin she was ready. The Empire wasn’t indestructible. They would find that out soon enough. She would make sure Evin and Cyn and Lis were safe, and then she would shatter all those mountain peaks and bury the lodestones in rubble.

And the rest of them? The beginner and intermediate students? Why should she save her friends and let them die? They were all equally guilty. She was as guilty as any of them. She had used the magic, too.

We face the truth, Sorceress: not that they deserve to die, but that their deaths serve a greater purpose.

She could see the wisdom in that, now. Better to think like an assassin, and live with the truth of what she would do, instead of trying futilely to convince herself she had nothing to feel guilty about.

“Ileni?” Evin said, and she looked at him sideways. It occurred to her, suddenly, that soon he would hate her forever. It surprised her how much that hurt.

She kept looking at him, frozen by the realization. He looked back, his brown eyes steady.

“I’m all right,” she said, because she couldn’t bear the concern in his eyes. “Everything will be fine.”

“Yes,” Evin agreed, because he didn’t know what she meant. His fingers brushed her hand—by accident, she thought—and he tilted his head down toward hers. “Yes. It will be.”

That was when they emerged into the courtyard and found an army of sorcerers waiting for them.





CHAPTER

23

The fountains arced and swayed, crescendoing curves of water soaring and descending into mist. Behind the white lines of water, behind the invisible walls, were two lines of sorcerers in red-striped white tunics. Karyn stood in front, glowing with a blinding white light.

Ileni stopped in her tracks. Behind her, Girad said, “What?” then uttered a word Ileni was pretty sure a six-year-old shouldn’t know.

Karyn raised a hand. The fountains went still. A series of graceless splatters filled the silence, and then there was nothing but a flat rippling pool separating them from the sorcerers.

The silence was so absolute Ileni could hear her heart thudding against her chest. A quick glance at Evin revealed that he was as wild-eyed and panicked as she was. She had no idea what Karyn was going to do.

Behind her, Arxis laughed, a low, satisfied sound. The danger shifted. For a moment, in the set of Arxis’s face and the sharpness in his eyes, Ileni saw Sorin.

“What’s funny?” she snapped.

He tilted his head slowly, and the resemblance broke. Sorin had never looked at her with that edge of cruel disdain. “That this ridiculous little quest of yours has finally given me what I need to complete my mission.”

Evin blinked, but didn’t turn to his friend. He still didn’t know where the real danger lay.

“And what,” Ileni said, as steadily as she could, “is that?”

Arxis smiled, a triumphant and contented smile.

“An audience,” he said, and moved.

But not toward Evin.

Understanding rushed over Ileni all at once. She dashed past Evin, throwing herself in front of his brother.