Page 34 of Grave Situation

His face flushes dark red. “That’s not?—”

“No, I agree. If this was about symbolism, the stone would have chosen three masters of more or less equal rank. I think we’ve been chosen because there’s something we, individually, can bring to the group.” Although fuck knows what I’m bringing, aside from the ability to take no bullshit and piss people off everywhere I go.

“It’s still not exactly what I meant,” he insists. “But I don’t think you’re wrong. I’m a… an outlier. My family has a healerbloodline, but it’s not particularly strong. It even skipped the last three generations. Then I came along… and now suddenly, we’re on the verge of a zombie war, and I’ve been chosen to help you find the only hope we have of surviving it.”

“You think something’s going to happen to one of us. Or maybe to the champion. That it’s… fated, or something. And that you’re as strong as you are so this whole mission isn’t doomed.”

He swallows. “I hope not.”

Yeah. I hope not too.

CHAPTER TEN

When I findMaster in his chambers that evening, he’s in one of his solemn moods. The stone is on his desk, box open, and I wonder if he’s been talking to it. He’s staring out the window toward the dragons’ valley. People seem to be doing that a lot lately. I understand it to a point—the view is nice, and the dragons have been unsettled, so definitely you’d want to see them coming if they planned to raze the academies to the ground—but it’sdarkright now. Aside from a few stars, there’s nothing to see.

“Are you ready to go?” Master asks, still gazing out into the darkness.

“Yes. Well, everything’s packed, anyway. I don’t think I’ll ever bereadyfor this.” If I can’t be honest with him, that leaves me with only Tia. And she already knows I’m not the important-mission type.

“No, you wouldn’t be.” He turns suddenly and looks me in the eye. “But if it helps, I can’t think of anyone else I’d trust with this.”

For a second, I don’t know what I feel. Shock, certainly. Surprise also. Pleasure? And then the heavy weight of expectation.

“That doesnothelp, Master.”

He chuckles. “The stone will guide you. It would be a real achievement for you to fuck this up.”

“That sounds like a challenge,” I mutter.

“Nota challenge.” The edge of exasperation in his voice is as welcome as it is familiar. “I’ve been thinking about it, and I believe you are theonlyperson who could pull this off. Not just because the stone insisted.”

I make myself comfortable in one of the armchairs by the fire. “Have you lost your marbles, Master? Should I call for a healer?”

He doesn’t laugh this time. “You’re a strong telepath—I believe that’s what allows the stone to communicate directly with you. It’s also going to allow you to stay in touch with me and the council no matter where you are. Not everyone else could manage that.”

It’s true—I’m a very strong telepath, and sometimes I feel as though I still have more in me that I can’t quite reach. That’s why I’m working so hard toward my mastery—I want to unlock every part of my Talent.

“But there are other strong telepaths who could do it,” I point out.

“None who also have your ability to fit in with everyone you meet,” he counters.

“People hate me!”

“Only the ones you don’t want to like you. Be honest, Talon—the kitchen staff, the guards, the housekeepers… none of them hate you.”

“That’s because I bribe them.” How dare he say people actually like me?

“Before you came here, the staff had a reputation for being unbribable,” he says dryly. “Even now, haven’t you noticed that you’re the only one who does it?”

I blink a few times. “I just thought that was because everyone else is too stupid to think of it.”

He huffs. “I swear, how such an intelligent man can be so dense sometimes… You’re charming when you want to be, and people respond to that. You’re blunt and honest to a fault, and other people respond positively to that. Better, you know when to use each tactic. You’re a powerful mage, and your ego is uncontrollable, but you eschew the trappings of magic that intimidate unTalented people.”

“Eschew.” I snort. “What a stupid word.” Then I think about what he said. “Is this because I hate wearing robes? You think I’ll be good at this because I don’t like having miles of fabric flapping around me?”

If looks could kill, Master would have just eviscerated me. “That’s part of it,” he says, his patience waning. “But you’re also the son of a nobleman and you know how to behave at court.”

“Court?” I sit forward, humor vanishing. “Nobody said I had to go to any of the courts. Do you really think the champion could be there?”

---