Death Sworn(64)

Though really, she was in no position to feel superior. They had gone further than even she had meant to. And she wasn’t sure how much further they would have gone if she hadn’t remembered in time that she no longer had the magic to keep herself from getting pregnant.

How could she have even thought of taking that step with Sorin when she had held out for so long with Tellis? But back then, she had been willing to do things that were difficult and frustrating. Now there seemed no reason to resist.

She knew this would end badly. It was so ridiculous and so doomed that she could almost despise herself. Except, except . . . except her whole life was ridiculous and doomed, so if a brief interlude of happiness had come her way, why not grab that? She had forgotten how good it felt to be happy.

But when she stood in front of her class, watching her group of young killers work through the preliminary meditation exercises, she pushed her unruly emotions to the side and made herself concentrate. Something had been bothering her about Karyn’s escape: that rope, the focused surge of magic before it came sliding down. In class, Bazel’s spells tasted of power and desperation, and always leaked magic around their edges. The spell that brought down the rope hadn’t felt like him at all.

“Bazel,” Ileni said. “To the front of the class, please.”

Bazel got slowly to his feet and walked up to stand beside her. He did not meet her eyes, did not change his demeanor, did not indicate in any way that she had betrayed him and saved his life and watched him kill a man.

“I want you to demonstrate the defensive spell I taught last week,” Ileni said. “Sorin, please attack him.”

Sorin rose lithely. Ileni’s heart sped up as he passed her, and it seemed impossible that no one else could sense the pull between them.

But Sorin didn’t glance at her. He stopped a few feet from Bazel, inclined his head briefly, then moved without warning. Bazel’s head snapped to the side under the force of his blow. Neither assassin made a sound, and Sorin was back in his place so fast Ileni could almost believe she had imagined it.

Bazel’s head came up, and he started forward, teeth bared. Sorin pivoted and, with insulting slowness, snapped a kick at his face.

Power erupted from Bazel, a wild torrent. It hit Sorin’s foot and knocked him backward, harder than necessary. Sorin twisted in midair and landed lightly on his feet, still in a fighting position. He leaned forward to lunge, and Ileni felt Bazel gather in more power.

“The exercise is over,” she said sharply. “Thank you. Please sit.”

Bazel’s gaze scorched her. He was going to disobey . . . and when he did, there would be nothing she could do. That wild expenditure of power clearly hadn’t weakened him at all.

He turned sharply and made his way back to his mat. Sorin rocked smoothly back on the balls of his feet, then followed him. Once again, he didn’t spare Ileni a glance.

Hurt surged through her, which was ridiculous. What did she expect him to do—make calf eyes at her in front of everyone? Ileni focused on Bazel, who sat on his mat looking puzzled and resentful.

She could still feel the echoes of his spell. It felt nothing at all like the magic that had pulled the rope down last night.

Bazel hadn’t pulled down that rope. And if it hadn’t been him . . .

Only one other person could have done it.

Karyn wasn’t just a spy.

She was also a sorceress.



At the midday meal, Sorin didn’t sit with her. Ileni felt the first twinge of doubt then, sitting alone over a bowl of spicy meat and cooked vegetables, acutely aware of his presence across the dining cavern. She tried not to glance at him too often, but suspected she wasn’t succeeding. He lounged among his fellow assassins, more relaxed than he ever was with her, talking and smiling and even laughing. They had grown up together. She had been here barely a month. What did she really know about him at all?

The image of Tellis’s blue eyes, sorrowful and sad and utterly implacable, shoved its way into her mind. Reminding her how little a kiss, or even a promise, could mean.

When the meal was over and Sorin headed to her table, Ileni stood so quickly she hit the backs of her knees on the bench. Sorin waited patiently for her to climb over the bench, then strode toward the door without looking back to see if she would follow.

He’s pretending. He had to, didn’t he? They couldn’t allow the other students to guess what was between them.

Unless there was nothing between them. Unless last night had been a wild aberration, and he was going to pretend it had never happened.