“Every one,” he said. His mouth lifted in a half-smile, coldly amused. “Including Sorin.”
Her insides twisted, and she struck back. “I wouldn’t be so sure Sorin will follow that order.”
The master didn’t move; he didn’t drop his eyes. But fear flashed across his face, so fast it was gone instantly. If she hadn’t learned to read Sorin so well, she might not have seen it at all.
“Of course he won’t,” he said, still utterly calm. “Why do you think I was expecting you? I knew Sorin wouldn’t try to stop you from coming here.”
But he was wrong. Sorin had tried to stop her.
It was as if the stone floor dropped away from under her. This was part of his plan, yes.
But he had gotten it wrong.
The master didn’t know everything about Sorin.
And he didn’t know everything about her.
“Sorin did try to stop me,” Ileni said. Suddenly she wasn’t faking her confidence. “He wasn’t counting on my magic.”
The master maintained his serene expression. “Absalm told me your magic was gone.”
“I’m sure he did,” Ileni said, and lifted her left hand, palm out.
The master’s hands moved to the arms of his chair. Was that fear again on his waxy face? She couldn’t tell. “It won’t work, Sorceress. I have wards—”
“They’re not strong enough,” Ileni said, and curved her upraised hand in the beginning motion of a spell. The master stood.
He probably saw her other hand flick under her tunic and out. She wasn’t that fast, despite all those hours of lessons.
But he wasn’t on guard against a knife. He was expecting magic.
The knife flashed through the short space between them, and when he tried to leap aside, his aged body was too slow.
Sorin would have been proud of the throw. The blade sank cleanly into the master’s chest—a few inches to the right from where she had aimed, but good enough.
“It’s not hard to kill,” Ileni said softly, as if discovering it all over again. “Not if you hate someone. It’s so very easy.”
But it shouldn’t be.
She tried to feel victorious, even as she breathed in the now-familiar smell of blood. A part of her wanted to go over to the master’s body, to check that it was true, what she had just discovered—that he was merely a man. And now a dead one.
Instead she turned away, toward the door and the next problem.
Because right now—and, probably, for a long time after—this man, or his memory, still had power over hundreds of trained killers. Who, once they discovered what she had done, would have their strongest reason ever for hating anyone.
She would be the easiest kill any of them had ever made.
So she had better hurry.
When she reached the cave entrance, Sorin was sitting atop a short rock pillar. Ileni stared at him through the twisted columns of colored rock, feeling oddly blank inside.
“Shouldn’t you be with Absalm?” she asked.
“It seemed a waste of time. I knew even the master wouldn’t convince you to take our power.” Sorin shook his head. “You’re not ready yet.”
Ileni looked at his sharply planed face, so familiar and so foreign. She started walking again, circling to the edges of the cavern so she wouldn’t have to pass right by him. Her hastily filled pack, misshapen and lumpy, thumped against her back.
“Ileni.”
She didn’t stop.
“You could stay.”
Almost, he managed to keep his voice expressionless. She stopped walking. He sat poised and powerful, both hands clenched at his sides.
“No,” she said.
“No one will force you to do anything. I’ll protect you.” His throat convulsed. “You can trust me.”
Until he found out what she had done. She had no illusions about whether he would protect her then.
“Sorin.” Her chest was so tight she could barely breathe. “No.”
His dark eyes searched her face. “But you love me,” he said finally.
She had no reason to deny it. Ileni lifted her shoulders. “I’ll recover.”
He flinched, and the intentness turned to anger. “You think it will be that easy?”
“I do not,” Ileni said, “think it will be easy.”
His eyes were like dark fire now, and she willed herself to be afraid—it would make this easier—but she couldn’t, despite his rage, despite what she had seen him do, believe he would hurt her. Even when he pushed himself off the rock and strode toward her.
They walked side by side until they reached the narrow opening to the outside world. Ileni looked out at the vast gray-blue sky, the wisps of pale pink clouds floating across it. Then she realized she was only standing still because Sorin had stopped walking.
The first step was the hardest, wrenching herself away from his side. The second took her under the sky, steadily lightening and stretching forever. A stray breeze brushed hair away from her face, something she had once—a few weeks ago—thought she would never feel again. The breeze was gentle and warm. She blinked away the blurring in her eyes.
On the third step, she stopped and turned around.
“You could come with me,” she whispered. Not entirely sure she meant it, but not willing to leave it unsaid.
From the darkness of the cave entrance, Sorin shook his head.
In the silence that followed, Ileni thought he was going to say he wasn’t letting her go. She didn’t want him to . . . oh, yes. Yes, she did.
Their eyes met. Sorin took a deep breath. “Ileni. You’re the most important person in these caves.” His words emerged in a sudden rush. “What Absalm said . . . you could change everything. You could destroy the Empire in a stroke. Bring us the victory both our people have been working toward for centuries. You could think about it. You could change your mind.”
And she probably would, eventually. If she stayed.
“I can’t,” Ileni said. “I can’t just let myself believe what everyone else believes. I need to see for myself.”
He blinked. “You’re not going back to the Renegai?”
“No.” After all that had happened, she was almost startled he would ask. Then she realized what he was really asking. “There’s nothing for me there. And no one.”
Sorin’s expression didn’t change, but his shoulders relaxed the tiniest bit. He stared at her, and then he smiled in sudden realization, a grin that made the dimness look bright. “You’re headed into the Empire.”
“I am.”
“You think you’ll find answers out there?” He shook his head. “I can tell you from experience, you won’t.”
“Maybe not.” She lifted her chin and met his black eyes. “But nobody in these caves even knows there’s a question.”
He was silent for a moment. Then he said, “When you do find those answers, you’ll be back. All you’ll have done is wasted your time.”
She couldn’t deny it. She couldn’t say he was right. She turned on her heel, shifted her weight to take the fourth step.
His voice was so quiet she almost didn’t hear it. “I’ll be here, Ileni. When you do come back.”
She didn’t turn around. She took the fifth step, and the sixth, and the seventh, and then she stopped counting. The sun was rising in the gray sky, scattering the clouds. She set off down the road, toward the end of the shadow cast by the black mountains behind her.