Page 125 of Veinblood
“There’s too much to do?—”
“It can all wait.” I keep a firm grip on his arm and move backward, tugging him along with me. “You’ve given Varam his orders. Until he returns, there’s nothing more you can do here. You need to get out of this room.”
He looks at me, and for a moment I think he’s going torefuse, but then he sighs and nods. “You’re right. An hour isn’t going to change anything.”
We’re at the door, and I’m reaching to open it when he stops. “Wait.”
He removes the circlet from his head and sets it on the desk, then pulls off the formal coat embroidered with silver. Underneath, he’s wearing a simple tunic and pants.
“Best not draw attention until we know how the city feels.”
We leave the study, and I wait while he locks the door and pockets the key, then we walk along the hallway to the central staircase. Between the third and fourth levels, we encounter Varam coming up.
“The riders are ready to depart,” he says when he’s close. “And I’ve requested proclamations be posted throughout the city informing of your intention to address them this afternoon.”
“Good. Ellie wishes to take a walk through the city first, and get a sense of how people are reacting.”
Varam’s frown is immediate. “You’ll need an escort. Mira!” he calls down the stairs.
She appears from the third level a moment later.
“Lord Torran and Ellie are walking through the city.” His tone carries all the enthusiasm of someone announcing a plague has arrived.
Mira raises one eyebrow, then nods. “Meet me near the servants entrance on the west side of the Spire. Do not leave until I am there.” She turns and hurries away.
Servants and Veinwardens bow as we pass them, and Sachainsists on acknowledging every one of them. He stops one, a chambermaid who stares at him with wide eyes.
“Do you know who was maintaining my quarters?”
She opens her mouth and nothing comes out, then clears her throat. “My Lord, the High Commander kept your rooms locked. No one was allowed inside.”
“And yet, they have been looked after.”
Her head dips, cheeks flushing, then she straightens, lifting her chin. “The upkeep of your rooms has been handed down throughout the years. Whenever the High Commander left the Lirien Spire, we would prepare it … just in case. Those of us who live and work here knew you were alive, and we kept faith that eventually you would return.”
Sacha doesn’t speak for a second or two, and the woman shifts uncomfortably under his gaze. Then he inclines his head. “Thank you. I will do everything I can to live up to your belief in me.”
She drops into a curtsey, her lips curving into a smile, then hurries away.
Mira is already waiting for us, with two plain cloaks folded over her arm, when we finally make it down to the ground level and find the door she mentioned.
“For discretion,” she says, handing them to us.
Sacha takes his without a word, and draws up the hood. Mira helps adjust mine so it covers the dress I’m wearing, then raises the hood, and tucks my hair inside.
“I will follow you. It will look less obvious that way.” She opens the door and steps back so we can go out ahead of her.
The plaza bustles with life. People move through it on their way to markets, or homes, or other business they might have. But there’s a sense of waiting in the air, of nerves. It’s evident in the way people are constantly looking around, checking who’s nearby, flinching at loud sounds. For a moment, guilt threatens to overwhelm me.
I had a hand in causing it. Whether our rebellion was successful or not, for the greater good or not, my actions have caused more fear and concern in the people who live here. I can only hope that, given time, they will come to realize that their lives will be better with the Authority’s choking hold over them gone.
Sacha stands just outside the door, his gaze moving across the plaza.
“I used to play here as a child.” His voice is quiet. “My tutors would bring me down during breaks between lessons, and let me run around the fountain. That was before my powers manifested, though. Once that happened …”
I follow his gaze to the fountain at the plaza’s center. The one I hid behind when Sereven was trying to kill me. Even from this distance, I can see the intricate details worked into the sculpture. Flowing lines that suggest wind and water, figures that might be dancing or fighting depending on where you are standing to look.
“What was it like?” We set off at a slow stroll. “Growing up here, I mean.”
