Free Death Sworn by Leah Cypess Page A

was following her.
     
    Sorin escorted her to the front of the class, then went to sit on his mat. Ileni looked at him, then at the nineteen other faces staring at her. Irun was one of them, leaning back slightly and smirking at her. Some of the other boys exchanged glances. They had all heard the argument in the dining cavern, and it seemed to her their stares held an edge that hadn’t been there yesterday, a scarcely veiled hostility.
    She was not finished proving herself.
    But after her ill-advised defense spell in the master’s chamber, her power was weaker than ever. She had intended to stall for a few days, until some of it came back, but that was clearly out of the question. She was fairly sure that if she spent the class reviewing meditation—the Elders’ suggestion, back in another world—Irun would start flinging spells around just to force her to react. And when she couldn’t, they would know the truth.
    She didn’t know what the consequences would be . . . especially since their master already knew. Why hadn’t he told them? What was his plan, and how did her powerlessness serve it? Because she was sure it did. Everything that happened in these caves served his purposes, somehow. She remembered his dark eyes, his pitiless smile, and dread crept into her.
    He had brought her here to die. She knew it, deep in her bones. Maybe this was some sort of test he had devised for his students. A game. Maybe there would be a reward for the first assassin to figure out her secret and kill her for her deception.
    “Today,” she said, “fire spells.”
    Irun came to attention, his dark hair flipping back. Ileni looked away from him and said, “Bazel. You first.”
    Bazel was the round-cheeked boy Irun had attacked yesterday. He gave her a startled look, as if surprised she had noticed he was there. As he rose smoothly to his feet and made his way toward the front of the training room, she had the sense that he walked closer to the walls than any of the other boys would have; and when he came to stand beside her, he stood with his hands clasped behind his back, staring down at the floor instead of meeting her eyes. He had none of Irun’s easy arrogance, none of Sorin’s sense of controlled power.
    He did have, without question, the most powerful magic in these caves.
    Even just standing next to him, Ileni could feel it radiating from him: magical potential, power he was barely tapping into for these beginners’ spells. He might never have the skill to use it fully, of course—strength and talent did not always go together—but had she been up against him in a Renegai magic contest, she would have been wary. He had almost as much power as she’d once had. Probably as much as Tellis did, and Tellis was—now—the most powerful Renegai alive.
    She was going to have to be very careful to keep Bazel from realizing his full potential, which was why she had called him up first. She didn’t want him to watch the others before making his own attempt.
    “All right,” she said. “All of you listen carefully, because this is complicated.”
    “We always listen carefully.”
    Irun, of course. If she had to contend with him all morning, somebody was going to end up dead. Probably her. “Noted,” she said. “Now, you start by forming a mental image of a flame, and then—”
    “Absalm said we would learn the spell best by watching him do it.”
    Ileni narrowed her eyes. Irun was sitting as upright as everyone else, his face blank, yet somehow he managed to give the impression that he was slouching back and smirking at her. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not Absalm.”
    “I’ve noticed.” He said it flatly, without expression, but one of the other students snickered. A brief, quickly swallowed sound, but one that rang in the stillness like a bell.
    Ileni allowed herself to imagine how Irun would react if she demonstrated by setting his clothes on fire. Suddenly she was too aware of the power next to her,