9

“Undoubtedly,” Valere smiled faintly as he followed after them.

The university grounds remained half full. Those who had passed wandered beneath the cressets laughing together, speaking of university life and the pride awaiting them at home, while those who had failed had already departed in silence, carrying disappointment back through the gates of Aethoria.

Valere followed her silently, whoever had attacked her knew that no one would come looking for her if anything were to happen to her, he understood that much, and from that moment he decided he would not leave her alone. Whether she was important enough to be hunted again, or whether it had been nothing more than a crime born of hatred, she was important enough for him to keep alive and safe.

They reached the gates, Valere halted his guards with a single gesture of his hand, and they glanced at one another, then at him, and found him waving them back. They understood at once and fell behind, keeping a careful distance as individuals rather than in formation.

“Which inn are you staying at?” he asked.

“Tev's.”

“I am staying at Tev's.”

She looked him over, from his carefully managed hair to the fine linen shirt, to the polished boots. “How convenient.”

“I am not inventing excuses to follow you,” he lifted both hands in open innocence. “It is simply the nearest inn to the university gates.”

“I did not say you were.”

“You looked as though you were thinking it.”

“I think everything,” she replied plainly, never slowing her pace.

“She speaks that way,” Nehara offered. “Do not mind her.”

“Ah,” he sighed. “And here I believed I was receiving special treatment.”

Nehara caught the reply for what it was, she understood that he was utterly smitten with Ryska, while Ryska's mind wandered in another world entirely, untouched by every glance thrown her way. So, Nehara let the jest live between them, content to keep the road lighter than the whispers that had followed Ryska, and by the heavens, Valere was remarkably good at catching whatever wit she offered him.

They talked the whole way until Tev's Inn came into view. As they reached it, Valere held the door open and Ryska walked through without acknowledging the gesture, for acknowledgment was a debt, and she had placed herself in no position to owe anyone anything.

Nehara offered him a small bow before stepping inside. Valere remained at the threshold for a moment, then stepped back into the street, where his guards were already waiting. “Tell Vehase Jye,” he ordered. “Whoever attacked her, I want them found as soon as possible.”

His guard inclined his head and departed at once while Valere turned back and walked to the counter where Teram sat. Teram saw him approaching and rose so quickly that his chair scraped against the floor. Flabbergasted and thoroughly taken aback, he cast a hurried glance around the inn, which suddenly seemed far less presentable than it had a moment before, then inclined his head all the same.

“For your trouble,” he placed a pouch upon the counter. “Whoever is staying in the room beside hers,” he said, glancing once toward Ryska, “have my guards arrange their stay at another inn. Prepare that room for me, and no one is to know about it.”

Teram inclined his head and left the counter to one of his boys, more than happy to obey while Valere crossed the inn and took the place across from Ryska, who waited for her meal with the same quiet patience she seemed to carry everywhere.

“I am rather eager for tomorrow's assessment,” Valere said.

“I am excited for the rankings,” Nehara looked toward Ryska. “What rank are you expecting?”

“First.”

“How are you so confident?” Nehara raised an eyebrow.

“I struck my first bullseye before I ever spoke my first sentence.”

“So, you have been gifted with a bow since birth?”

“I learned to speak very late,” Ryska replied.

Nehara stared at her for a heartbeat, then burst into laughter. Valere hid a smile behind the rim of his cup, but the moment he saw Ryska looking between them as though she could not understand what had amused them, he quietly changed the subject.

“Sometimes I convince myself I possess that sort of confidence then I trip over my own shoelaces,” he took a sip from his cup. “The universe enjoys impeccable timing.”

Nehara burst into laughter again, while Ryska only smiled. Then the food arrived, and Valere paused long enough to take his first bite before resuming the conversation as though the silence had never existed and Ryska listened while he spoke, and spoke, and spoke.

When the meal was finished, Valere rose, and together the three of them passed through the left gate into Tev's Pilgrims' Rooms.

The yard opened before them, vast and square, ringed with rows of identical doors along both the ground floor and the first. At its heart stood the Temple of Shalve and Panini, rising like two silent guardians over the thousand young lives gathered beneath their gaze.

They crossed the yard in silence, weaving through the endless stream of students climbing staircases, crossing galleries, and disappearing behind numbered doors, and that was when Ryska felt it. One glance, then another and more. Two girls slowed their conversation as they walked past her. Whispers drifted from every side, and Ryska began searching for the reason hidden somewhere among the passing faces.

She kept her eyes upon the ground yet felt the knot tightening in her throat as the weight of those stares settled over her from every direction at once. She had grown accustomed to being watched, but more eyes than the usual handful followed her, too many to separate one from another, and she could no longer tell where half of them came from, or why they had chosen this particular evening to find her.

She searched her memory for something to point at. It felt as though everyone else knew something she did not. She replayed the entire day again and again, hunting for the moment she had missed, until they reached her door and Valere's voice cut through the spiral.

“Sleep well,” he said quietly.

Ryska gave the smallest nod, pushed the door open, and stepped inside but the room was no longer the room she had left behind. The girls she shared it with, a Satyr woman, a Human girl, and two Elf girls, were already inside. Three of them looked at her as though the whispers had arrived before she had, but the fourth, an Elf girl, crossed the room and stopped before her.

“Four students are missing, and everyone is saying it was you,” she whispered. “Was it you?”

“No.” Ryska shook her head.

“Then lend no ear to the filth people weave," she patted her arm. "Sleep well.”

“If it had been me,” the Satyr said from across the room, “I would have left this room instead of terrorizing everyone inside it.”

Ryska turned her head toward her and the Satyr rose to her feet. “Are you staring at me?”

“Leave her alone," the Elf girls stepped forward at once, and the second hurried to stand beside her.

“It is not your matter, Vaniri.”

“Then make it yours no longer,” Vaniri answered.

“Oh?” The Human girl pushed herself to her feet and came to stand beside the Satyr. “You wish to defend her now?”

“And what do you think you are doing?” Vaniri crossed her arms. “Playing 'I am better than everyone, so I get to judge everyone'?”

“She is a Draconian,” the Human girl said. “They are war criminals.”

“Of course you would say that.” Vaniri did not even blink. “Your people were at war with them."

“Do not fight,” Ryska said quietly.

“Do not play innocent now," said the Satyr girl. "Start a war first, then pretend your hands are clean.”

“Do you know what war is?” Ryska's gaze remained upon her while her hands had started burning, and the urge to burn the Satyr alive was taking hold of her heart. "You think war is a word you can throw around?” Her voice faltered. "Have you ever witnessed how war starts?"

“You would know, would you not?” the Satyr girl said.

“I do not,” Ryska said in Vianian. “But you shall soon learn," her hand rose, and a flame came alive in her palm.