When Anzi awoke, it was in utter confusion that she found herself wrapped in hard, solid arms and pressed back into a very bare chest. For several seconds, she had no recollection of how she had ended up in this unfamiliar bed with a man’s face buried in her hair and his hands perilously close to dropping below her hips. But she certainly knew who said man was in an instant. There was no mistaking the intoxicating masculine scent she could never get out of her head. Oh. Oh, that was right. He had pulled her into his bed and all but forced her to fall asleep against him. But how long ago? What time was it now? Her eyes widened in unadulterated shock when she realized it had to have been hours since. She was far too well-rested and soothed, and struggling still to rise out of the comfortable depths of delicious sleep even now. Wake up, she ordered herself, and she tried to pull out of Kai’s embrace so she could jump off the bed and onto her feet. Sleeping in the middle of the day when s
“This is where the understudies train the apprentices,” said Abelard. “There aren’t enough masters in the Magisien body, so we delegate what we can.” So many explanations. After the latest long-winded speech from Abelard in front of several dozen adolescents, by now, Kai must have mastered the art of tuning him out, a vital skill Anzi too possessed. She believed in the great strength and glory of the Imperial City—even now despite recent doubts—but she didn’t put on performances for its sake. The elderly mage, on the other hand, had waxed poetic about the storied history of the Empire’s mage class and its renown throughout the land for the last half-hour. No one liked his speeches. Anzi was an outsider, but the practiced, dead-eyed stares of all the students at their desks were proof enough. Oza hadn’t liked him either. At least, he hadn’t…the last time they had spoken. “And for the chieftain’s pleasure, we will be going down and doing some demonstrations. Up, everyone.” Kai looked
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He was so much taller now than when she had last seen him. Anzi’s stomach lurched for the hundredth time since she had come to the Tower, but this one was the final one, the real one. She was here, looking Oza in the eye and coming face to face with the boy she had left to fend for himself in a world she had known would be too cruel to him. And yet he looked healthy, or as healthy as he could ever be with his frailty. Still as skinny as she remembered, though. He positively swam in his robe. “You’re not wearing initiate’s garb anymore,” she said, partly because she was proud of him but mostly because she didn’t know what else to say. “Congratulations.” He raised one shoulder and made a twitching gesture with his opposite hand, but made not a sound. He blinked, long lashes somehow making his eyes look even darker than they were. Did she look like that, she wondered. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d looked at herself, and fringers didn’t often pause to examine each other’s ap
“I’m not wearing that.” Anzi pointed at the door with a commanding finger. “The thought’s appreciated. But no, thank you.” “You don’t mean that.” “Yes, I do.” “I’m talking about you saying you appreciate it. You don’t.” Letti planted her hands on her hips, eyebrows furrowed hard like two swords on the verge of a violent clash. “Why don’t you like it!” “Because.” “Give me a reason. A real one!” “The list is so long you could make new dresses and wraps out of it for every girl in the harem. Take it as it is. I’m not wearing something that clumsy to the gala.” Letti looked like she was going to explode. Her fabulous blonde ringlets bounced along her bared shoulders as if they had a life—and anger—of their own. “But I saw it! That man, the one with the wonderful back and beautiful chest, him—he said, he said he was looking forward to escorting you there!” She hated how fate had arranged things. The woman had apparently been hiding around the corner when Kai had walked her to her ro
Anzi couldn’t believe the one time she wanted to see Bastien, she couldn’t. Did he know? Did he know about the possibility of surviving wild dragons yet? It would send him into a raving-mad, delirious fit of ecstasy, but she had to ask him how it could even be possible. He had been there during the Purge, hadn’t he? Despite his looks and his immature, irritating personality, he was an old, old man who could shed more light on the subject than nearly anyone else in the entire Empire. And yet tonight she couldn’t go to see him. No egg-searching, not when she had to accompany Kai all night and entertain him. Entertain. Had the Emperor meant it? Had Kai really told him he intended to couple with her tonight? Maybe he had changed his mind after everything that happened during their afternoon together; he hadn’t told her a thing about it. But wait, he had dragged her to his room and put her in his bed this morning, had even slept beside—around her—for hours. Maybe that was supposed to be th
They were in the throne room, and evidently, his Excellency was in grand spirits. The faint laughter filtering faintly through the doors made her pause. Had she ever heard the man laugh like that? It startled her to think that Kai—because he was in there too, as confirmed by the Emperor’s personal guards before her—would be the reason for such joy. Ah. Because of dragons. Of course. Kai was perhaps the only person in all the Empire who could make His Excellency so joyous now. Ironic, considering that Kai blamed the Emperor for the massacre of the dragons in the Purge. How surreal to think that Kai would now offer to bring back those dragons as a gift for the man he had scorned before. Then again, it was hard to defy the will of the most powerful monarch in the land. “I need to go in,” she said. “They’re waiting for me.” The guard looked her up and down with a skeptical eye. “You?” She ref
She wasn’t mistaken. This was Noemi, the woman who had slapped Violetta that day in the market district. Her black hair was done up in elegant style with delicate silver links decorating her tresses, but there was no mistaking the poison-green eyes and the beauty mark by her mouth, nor the sour, sharp expression creeping into her gaze. Evening darkness had fallen, but the torch light was plenty enough to see by. Anzi knew. This was her. And for some reason, she had the emerald brooch in her hair that Violetta had bought for her and held onto. Anzi could believe that young harem girls were forced to lend pretty baubles over to their senior sisters on demand, but something was wrong. Not only was Letti nowhere to be seen, but she had disappeared from the harem quarters altogether. After another fight—or more abuse, rather—had she run off somewhere so no one could find her? If Noemi had slapped her again and left another mark, Letti would hardly show herse