The next morning at breakfast, I sit apart and speak to no one. A chill,
dark fog has rolled in off the dunes, settling heavily over the city.
It matches the blackness of my mood nicely.
I’ve forgotten about the Third Trial, about the Augurs, about Helene. All
I can think of is Laia. The memory of her bruised face, her broken body. I
try to devise some way to help her. Bribing the head physician? No, he
doesn’t have the guts to defy the Commandant. Sneaking a healer in? Who
would risk the Commandant’s wrath to save a slave’s life, even for a fat
purse?
Does she still live? Maybe her injuries weren’t as bad as I thought.
Maybe Cook can heal her.
Maybe cats can fly, Elias.
I’m mashing my food to a pulp when Helene walks into the crowded
mess hall. I’m startled at the sloppiness of her hair and the pink shadows
beneath her eyes. She spots me and approaches. I stiffen and shove a
spoonful of food into my mouth, refusing to look at her.
“The slave is feeling better.” She lowers her voice so the students around
us can’t hear. “I . . . stopped by there. She got through the night. I . . .
um . . . well . . . I . . . ”
Is she going to apologize? After refusing to help an innocent girl who
hadn’t done anything wrong exc ept be born a Scholar instead of a Martial?
“Better, is she?” I say. “I’m sure you’re thrilled.” I get up and walk
away. Helene is stone - still behind me, as stunned as if I’ve punched her, and
I feel a savage flood of satisfaction. That’s right, Aquilla. I’m not like you.
I’m not going to forget her just b ecause she’s a slave.
I send a silent thanks to Cook. If Laia survived, it’s no doubt due to the
older woman’s ministrations. Should I visit the girl? What will I say?
“Sorry Marcus nearly raped and killed you. Heard you’re feeling better,
though.”
I can’t visit her. She won’t want to see me anyway. I’m a Mask. If she
hates me for that alone, it’s reason enough.
But maybe I can stop by the house. Cook can tell me how Laia’s doing. I
can take something for her, something small. Flowers? I look around the
sch ool grounds. Blackcliff doesn’t have flowers. Maybe I’ll give her a
dagger. There are plenty of those around, and skies know she needs one.
“Elias!” Helene has followed me out of the mess hall, but the fog helps
me evade her. I duck into a training building, watching from a window until
she gives up and goes on her way. See how she likes the silent treatment.
A few minutes later, I find myself heading to the Commandant’s house.
Just a quick visit. Just to see if she’s all right.
“Your mother hears about this, she’ll skin you alive,” Cook says from
the kitchen door when I slip into the servants’ corridor. “And the rest of us
too, for letting you in here.”
“Is she all right?”
“She’s not dead. Go on, Aspirant. Leave. I’m not joking about the
Commandant.”
If a slave spoke like that to Demetrius or Dex, they’d backhand her. But
Cook is only doing what she thinks is b est for Laia. I do as she asks.
The rest of the day is a blur of failed combat battles, curt conversations,
and narrow es capes from Helene. The mist gets so thick I can barely see my
hand in front of my face, making training more grueling than usual. When
the curfew drums beat, all I want is sle
Ep I head to the barracks, dead on
my feet, when Hel catches up to me.
“How was training?” She appears out of the mist silently as a wraith,
and despite myself, I jump.
“Splendid,” I say darkly. Of course, it wasn’t splendid, and Helene
knows it. I haven’t fought so poorly in years. What little focus I recovered
during last night’s battles with Hel is gone.
“Faris said you missed scim practice this morning. Said he saw you
walking to the Commandant’s house.”
“You and Faris gossip like schoolgirls.”
“Did you see the girl?”
“Cook didn’t let me in. And the girl has a name. It’s Laia.”
“Elias . . . it could never work out between you two.”
My answering laugh echoes weirdly in the mist. “What kind of idiot do
you take me f or? Of course it couldn’t work. I only wanted to find out if she
was all right. So what?”
“So what?” Helene grabs my arm and yanks me to a halt. “You’re an
Aspirant. You have a Trial to take tomorrow. Your life will be on the line,
and instead you’re mooning over some Scholar.” My hackles rise. She
senses it and takes a breath.
“All I’m saying is that there are more important things to think about.
The Emperor will be here in days, and he wants us all dead. The
Commandant doesn’t seem to know — or care. And I have a bad feeling
about the Third Trial, Elias. We have to hope that Marcus gets eliminated.
He can’t win, Elias. He can’t. If he does — ”
“I know, Helene.” I’ve staked every hope I have on these damned Trials.
“Trust me, I know.” Ten hells. I liked her better when she wasn’t speaking
to me.
“If you know, then why are you letting yourself get destroyed in
combat? How can you win the Trial if you don’t have the confidence to
defeat someone like Zak? Don’t you understand what’s at stake?”
“Of course I do.”
“But you don’t! Look at you! You’re too befuddled by that slave - girl — ”
“It’s not her that’s befuddling me, all right? It’s a million other things.
It’s — this place. And what we do here. It’s you — ”
“Me?” She looks bewildered, and that makes me angrier. “What did I do
— ”
“You’re in love with me!” I shout at her now because I’m so angry at her
for loving me, even though the logical part of me knows that I’m being
cruelly unfair. “But I’m not in love with you, and you hate me for it. You’ve
let that ruin our friendship.”
She just stares, the wound in her eyes raw and growing. Why did she
have to fall for me? If she had controlled her emotions, we never would
have fought the night of the Moon Festival. We would have spent the last
ten days planning for the Third Trial instead of avoiding each other.
“You’re in love with me,” I say again. “But I could never be in love with
you, Helene. Never. You’re just like every other Mask. You were willing to
let Laia die just because she’s a slave — ”
“I didn’t let her die.” Helene’s voice is quiet. “I went to her last night,
and I healed her. That’s why she’s alive. I sang to her, sang until my voice
was gone and I felt like I’d had the life sucked out of me. Sang until she
was well again.”
“You healed her? But — ”
“What, you don’t believe I could do something kind for another human?
I’m not evil, Elias, no matter what you say.”
“I never said — ”
“But you did.” Her voice rises. “You just said I’m like every other Mask.
You just said you could never — never love — ” She spins away from me, but
after only a few st eps, turns back. Trails of mist swe ep out behind her like a
ghostly dress.
“You think I want to feel this way about you? I hate it, Elias. Watching
you flirt with Illustrian girls and sle ep with Scholar slaves and find the good
in everyone — everyone — but me.” A sob es capes her — the only time I’ve
ever heard her cry. She chokes it back. “Loving you is the worst thing that
has ever happened to me — worse than the Commandant’s whippings, worse
than the Trials. It’s torture, Elias.” She digs a shaking hand into her hair.
“You don’t know what it’s like. You have no idea what I’ve given up for
you, the deal I made — ”
“What do you mean?” I say. “What deal? With who? For what?”
She doesn’t answer. She’s walking — running — away from me.
“Helene!” I chase after her, my fingers brushing the wetness of her face for
one tantalizing second. Then the mist swallows her up, and she’s gone.
“G