Page 76 of A Sword of Shadow and Deceit

I slap a hand on the table, rattling the whole thing on its already rickety legs. “This is the Academy we’re talking about,” I say. “Not some Lower God’s mansion. If I’m discovered then who knows what kind of trouble we’re all in for.” No amount of torture training can prepare for the unknown. As much as I want to believe I’ll never break or that I’ll manage to kill myself before it’s too late, just the risk of it all is too much for me to bear.

“Maybe we should quit while we’re ahead,” I think aloud. “Do we even know who the target is yet or is the client still keeping that under wraps?”

Regis shakes his head, his brows lowering once more, pinching down tight and creating a V between his eyes. “It’s odd,” he admits. “You’ve settled yourself in the Academy. You’ve been there for weeks. We’ve gotten half of the payment. We should have at least gotten a hint at this point.”

With one hand still on the table, I take my other and scrub it down my face. “What are they waiting for?” I wonder aloud.

Silence stretches between us for long moments, and I can practically hear Regis’ thoughts turning over the same wheel as mine. “Do you think…” Regis begins, only to drift off as he lifts his head and stares across the room. His eyes are focused on the far wall, but unseeing as if he’s thinking far ahead into the future instead of seeing where we’re at presently.

“What?” I press him when he still hasn’t finished his thought after several moments.

“Nothing,” he mutters. “Never mind. It’s probably not what I’m thinking.” I part my lips to demand that he tell me what he’s thinking, exactly, regardless of whether or not he thinks it’s right. Before I can, however, he pushes away from the counter and says something else. “Carcel’s arrival will likely be within the next two weeks depending on where he’s coming from,” he states. “Whatever his intentions are, we’ll need to prepare.”

I groan and sink back into my chair, tipping it onto its back legs and maintaining my balance by my knees beneath the kitchen table. “He’ll want a full report like he’s Ophelia or something,” I guess.

Regis nods his agreement. “I can relay that.”

I snort. “Do you think he’ll let you or will he call me out of the Academy to give it?” I ask.

"Carcel’s an ass, but he’s not a complete idiot,” Regis replies. “He’ll know it’s not easy for you to sneak out so often.”

“Is that why you had me come now?” I guess with a renewed smile.

His lips twitch and one corner drifts up. That’s all the answer I need. Regis is a fucking genius sometimes. Knowing that I’ve already had to leave the Academy for this meeting will ensure that Carcel’s hands are tied and he won’t be able to call for me for a while at least. I shake my head and grin his way.

“No wonder Carcel hates your guts,” I say, laughing. “You’ve always got to back him into a corner.”

“A ‘thank you’ will suffice, Kiera.”

I roll my eyes, but when I submit my, “Thanks,” I actually do mean it. Dealing with Carcel now, with everything going on inside the Academy and especially with the mistake I made last night, is something I really don’t want to think about. Tipping my head back, I stare up at the ceiling as Regis sets about heading to the back door. He heads outside, propping open the door before returning with a bucket of water—likely from a shared well. Using the water and a nearby rag, Regis begins cleaning. He wipes down the table we just finished eating on and then washes the dishes.

“So,” he says after several minutes of silence, “how is it going?”

“In the Academy?” As if he could be referring to anything else. I sigh. “I don’t … exactly know. I’m firmly ingrained into my role and mission, but it’s not like it’s real yet. I have no target, and therefore, I can’t do reconnaissance. The mission has stagnated. I’m growing bored.”

“How are you faring with the Mortal Gods?” he asks.

My lips twist. Yesterday’s memories are heavy in my mind. Not just my unintentional night with Theos, but what happened to cause that. Darius’ death. The battles. There’d be no point in broaching the topic of either with Regis, and yet, I find myself wanting to. I bite down on my lower lip, nibbling as I consider my words.

“They’re not easy, that’s for sure,” I admit. “A part of me can’t stand to be around any of them. They’re all so fucking … pompous.” The insult, spoken so many times before, doesn’t hold as much weight today as it has in the past.

Regis chokes out a laugh as he finishes cleaning the counter, even the parts that I hadn’t used. “Did you expect anything less from Divine Beings and their offspring?”

I shake my head. “No, not really.” But just calling them pompous isn’t the full truth. They may be boastful and selfish creatures, but there’s a sorrow clinging to all of them. An awareness that their lives are controlled by the Divine Beings just as much as mortals’ are. My chest rises and falls with a great breath.

I sense Regis’ attention rather than see it as I keep my gaze trained firmly on the ceiling above me. After a while of not talking, I hear his motions get quiet and then finally his face appears over mine. “That’s quite a thought-provoking expression you’re wearing,” he says.

My eyes cut to his. The words I want to speak linger on my tongue, right there, but I can’t seem to get them out. Instead, I just sigh again and let my legs—and subsequently the chair legs—drop back down. “I’m just tired.” The lie comes easily. Perhaps because it’s not necessarily a full-fledged lie. The fact is, I am tired. Exhausted by this life of mine. What is the point of power and abilities if I can’t even make my own decisions? Even the choice to come to the Academy of Riviere was only granted by another.

Regis holds up his hand, capturing my attention. “That reminds me,” he says. “I almost forgot. I’ve got something for you.”

I peer at him, curious. “Is it my birthday?” I ask. “You never give me gifts.”

The dead look he gives me would be enough to send a lesser being fleeing, but not me. I merely give him a grin back as he rifles through his clothes before withdrawing a vial on a thin leather string. “We don’t celebrate birthdays,” he reminds me. “Don’t be facetious.”

I shrug, lifting both of my arms in the process. “Why not? You always are.”

Regis rolls his eyes and tosses the vial and leather string my way. I catch it before it can hit the table and hold it up. Small and cylindrical, the vial is filled with a liquid so purple it’s almost black. “What is it?” I ask.

---