Broken Veil (Harbinger #5)(2)

If her father and mother knew how much she detested her new life, how much she ached for her old, they wouldn’t let her anywhere near a sky ship. Yet maybe they did know . . . maybe it was the very reason they’d insisted on such an arrangement.

“Who is he?” Cettie asked, feigning unconcern.

Her father gave her a knowing smile. “Time will tell. This operation has been underway for a long time. There can be no failure, Daughter.”

“And you won’t tell me what it is beforehand?”

He shook his head. “You only need to understand your part. You’ll earn our trust by fulfilling your duties. Don’t fail us.”

She bowed her head to him, but inwardly she was still rebelling. He left, and she decided to go to the gardens to see Jevin, the gardener of the various poisons growing at the school. Of all the people she’d met at the poisoner school, he was the only one who felt like a friend. He would talk to her whenever she was lonely, sensing her need somehow.

Some of the other girls who’d been there when she first started had already left, replaced by new ones. Each time a new girl arrived, Cettie’s heart ached. The other girls had tragic backgrounds. For them, coming to the school had been a vast improvement. Cettie was different. In her old life, she’d been the keeper of the cloud estate Fog Willows, engaged to a handsome doctor.

Regret had started creeping up on her as soon as she regained some control by accepting the kystrel. She would have given anything to go back, to reclaim the person she’d been. Jevin understood that, empathized with it even. But he’d tried to help her understand that leaving was impossible. Her parents would never let her out of their web. She knew too much, and the students at the poisoner school all knew the price of treachery. It had happened once in the past year. The girl who’d attempted to escape had been executed in front of all the rest.

As Cettie emerged from the building to the inner courtyard of the beautiful estate, she saw some of the other girls tending their plots in the garden. Cettie enjoyed the feel of the dirt on her hands and the smells from the various herbs. There were no weeds, and the little shrubs and bushes each had familiar names and purposes. Valerianum for making people fall asleep. Wickshot as a quick-acting poison that paralyzed someone. Monkshood—a very deadly poison that brought an excruciating death. All of the little flowers, stems, and sometimes the oils produced from them were highly toxic. Some herbs were so deadly they could only be handled with masks and gloves. Even so, the act of caring for them appealed to her. It even made her think of Adam, the man she had almost married, although the plants he relied on for his trade healed rather than hurt.

Jevin rose before the sun every day and played his hautboie before the massive gong announced the meal. This morning, she found him sitting on the stone wall, guiding one of the younger students—a girl about twelve years old.

As Cettie walked the grounds, which were so familiar to her now, she felt anew the squeezing sensation of being restrained in this elaborate and fancy prison. At first, the school had appealed to her in a strange way. But with time, she’d realized the people who cooked the meals, who sewed the dresses, who healed the wounds were all slaves of a sort. No one there had the freedom to leave when they wanted, not even the poisoners themselves. And though Cettie and the other girls had access to the finest gowns, the sturdiest weapons, and the most elegant jewelry, none of it belonged to them. They were props, disguises. As long as the girls complied, they would have access to the spoils of vast wealth—but none of it was theirs.

Jevin had already noticed her, and she saw him give some final direction to the student before standing, brushing off his hands, and approaching her.

“Good afternoon,” he greeted with a smile. His black cassock looked drab compared to the colorful jerkins available to him. But his modesty appealed to her. He had a trimmed beard and ash-blond hair and a wiry frame. His unassuming appearance was deceiving, however—she’d seen him conquer the hardest challenge the school had to offer, climbing a nearly sheer wall dotted with Water Leerings, without any perceivable effort.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt your lesson,” Cettie said.

“I could tell you needed to talk.”

“Do you know about my mission?” she asked him. “I just found out I’ll be leaving soon.”

He raised his eyebrows and arched them quizzically. “Only a little. Something about a tempest?”

She nodded. “Do you know who they’ve assigned to be my kishion?”

He gave her a serious look. “I do.”

“What can you tell me about him?” she asked nervously.

“I was asked for my counsel, naturally,” he said. “Of the options presented, I thought one in particular would be suited for you. It’s no surprise, in hindsight, that this particular kishion was also your mother’s intended choice for you.”

“I don’t know if I should be comforted by that or not,” Cettie complained, sitting next to him on the stone rim of the garden bed.

“Well, I suppose it’s a matter of trust. This is an important assignment. If you succeed, it will lead to a much larger one. One we’ve been preparing you for.”

“I know. You’ve hinted at it for some time,” she said, not without a bit of pique.

“Secrets must be guarded, Cettie. Part of me thinks you are still a little reluctant to be here. Is that true?”