“Do you know when you—” I stumble, correcting myself. “I mean, when we go back to the capital?”
“After the Parting Ball. You were told about that?”
“Yes, your mother mentioned it—and Lady Blonos is trying to teach me how to dance. . . .” I trail off, feeling embarrassed. She tried to teach me a few steps yesterday, but I just ended up falling all over myself. Thieving I can do just fine, but dancing is apparently out of my reach. “Key word, trying.”
“Don’t worry, we won’t have to deal with the worst of it.”
The thought of dancing terrifies me, but I swallow the fear. “Who will?”
“Cal,” he says without hesitation. “Big brother has to tolerate too many silly conversations and dance with a lot of annoying girls. I remember last year . . .” He stops to laugh at the memory. “Sonya Iral spent the entire time following him around, cutting into dances, trying to drag him away for some fun. I had to interfere and suffer through two songs with her to give Cal some respite.”
The thought of the two brothers united against a legion of desperate girls makes me laugh, thinking about the lengths they must’ve gone to, to save each other. But as my smirk spreads, Maven’s smile fades.
“At least this time, he’ll have Samos hanging off his arm. The girls wouldn’t dare cross her.”
I snort, remembering her sharp, biting grip on my arm. “Poor Cal.”
“And how was your visit yesterday?” he says, referring to my jaunt home. So Cal didn’t fill him in.
“Difficult.” It’s the only way I know how to describe it. Now my family knows what I am, and Kilorn has thrown himself to the wolves. And of course, Shade is dead. “One of my brothers was executed, just before the release came.”
He shifts next to me, and I expect him to be uncomfortable. After all, it was his own people who did it. Instead, he puts a hand over mine. “I’m so sorry, Mare. I’m sure he didn’t deserve it.”
“No, he didn’t,” I whisper, remembering why my brother died. Now I’m on the same path.
Maven stares at me intently, like he’s trying to read the secret in my eyes. For once I’m glad for Blonos’s lessons, or else I would assume Maven could read minds as well as the queen. But no, he’s a burner and a burner alone. Few Silvers inherit abilities from their mothers, and no one has ever had more than one ability. So my secret, my new allegiance to the Scarlet Guard, is mine.
When he extends a hand to help me up, I take it. All around us, the others warm up, mostly stretching or jogging around the room, but a few are more impressive. Elane slips in and out of my vision as she bends the light around herself until she disappears altogether. A windweaver boy, Oliver of House Laris, creates a miniature whirlwind between his hands, stirring up tiny bits of dust. Sonya lazily trades blows with Andros Eagrie, a short but muscular eighteen-year-old. As a silk, Sonya is brutally skilled and fast and should be able to best him, but Andros matches her blow for blow in a violent dance. The Silvers of House Eagrie are eyes, meaning they can see the immediate future, and Andros is using his abilities to their full extent. Neither one seems to gain the upper hand, playing a game of balance rather than strength.
Just imagine what they can really do. So strong, so powerful. And these are only the kids. And just like that, my hope evaporates, shifting into fear.
“Lines,” a voice says, barely a whisper.
My new instructor enters without a sound, Cal at his side, with a telky from House Provos behind them both. Like a good soldier, Cal walks in step with the instructor, who seems tiny and unassuming next to Cal’s bulk. There are wrinkles in his pale skin, and his hair is as white as his clothing, a testament to his true age and his house. House Arven, the silent house, I remember, thinking back to my lessons. A major house, full of power and strength and all the things the Silvers put their faith in. I even remember him from before I became Mareena Titanos, from when I was a little girl. He would oversee the broadcasted executions in the capital, lording over the Reds and even the Silvers sentenced to die. And now I know why they chose him to do it.
The Haven girl blinks back into existence, suddenly visible again, while the churning wind dies in Oliver’s hands. Evangeline’s knives drop out of the air, and even I feel a calm blanket of nothing fall over me, blotting out my electrical sense.
He is Rane Arven, the instructor, the executioner, the silence. He can reduce a Silver to what they hate most: a Red. He can turn their abilities off. He can make them normal.
While I gawk, Maven pulls me into place behind him, with Cal at the head of our line. Evangeline leads the line next to us, and for once she doesn’t seem concerned with me. Her eyes stay on Cal as he settles in, looking quite at home in his place of authority.
Arven doesn’t waste time introducing me. In fact, he barely seems to notice I’ve joined his session.
“Laps,” he says, his voice rough and low.
Good. Something I can actually do.
We set off in our lines, circling the room at an easy pace in blissful quiet. I push myself faster, enjoying the exercise I missed so much, until I’m speeding right past Evangeline. Then it’s just Cal next to me, setting the pace for the rest of them. He quirks a smile at me, watching me run. This is something I can do, something I even enjoy.
My feet feel strange on the cushioned floor, bouncing with every step, but the blood pounding in my ears, the sweat, the pace are all familiar. If I close my eyes, I can pretend I’m back in the village, with Kilorn or my brothers or just by myself. Just free.
That is until a section of the wall swings out, catching me in the stomach.
It knocks me to the floor, sending me sprawling, but it’s my pride that really hurts. The pack of runners pulls away, and Evangeline smirks over her shoulder, watching me fall behind. Only Maven slows his pace, waiting for me to catch up.
“Welcome to training.” He chuckles, watching me pry myself off the obstacle.
All over the room, other parts of the wall shift, forming barriers for the runners. Everyone else takes it in stride; they’re used to this. Cal and Evangeline lead the pack, moving over and under each obstacle as it appears before them. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice the Provos telky directing the pieces of wall, making them move. He even seems to be smirking at me.
I fight back the urge to snap at the telky and push myself back into a jog. Maven runs next to me, never more than a step away, and it’s strangely infuriating. My pace quickens, until I’m sprinting and hurdling to the best of my ability. But Maven isn’t like the Security at home—it’s hard to leave him in the dust.
By the time we finish laps, Cal is the only one who hasn’t broken a sweat. Even Evangeline looks ragged, though she tries her best to hide it. My breath comes in heavy pants, but I’m proud of myself. Despite the rough start, I managed to keep up.
Instructor Arven surveys us for a moment, his eyes lingering on me, before turning to the telky. “Targets please, Theo,” he says, again barely a whisper. Like drawing away a curtain to reveal the sun, I feel my abilities rushing back.
The telky assistant waves a hand, sliding away a section of the floor, revealing the strange gun I saw from the window of Blonos’s classroom. I realize it’s not a gun at all but a cylinder. Only the telky’s power makes it move, not some greater, strange technology. The abilities are all they have.
“Lady Titanos,” Arven murmurs, making me shudder. “I understand you have an interesting ability.”
He’s thinking of the lightning, the purple-white bolts of destruction, but my mind strays to what Julian said yesterday. I don’t just control, I can create. I am special.