Page 127 of Thief of Silver and Souls

King Konram is aware of the rumors and how they’ll have gained momentum after the cracking of the palace bell. This is damage control. He wants to show the nobles that he’s still watching over them, still concerned about their fate.

It’s generous of him to take this time to soothe their worries, I guess, even if it doesn’t actually solve the problem. But I’d rather he was generous enough to skip right over me.

No such luck.

When the procession reaches me, my breath catches in my throat. The king offers me his smile with a slight crinkle at the corners of his eyes that suggests it might even be genuine.

“Even in trying times, we stand together,” he says, so close I can count the faint wrinkles on his face that none of the paintings show, and gives my shoulder a light pat.

It’s barely a brush of his fingers. Definitely no kind of attack.

But as I bob my head with a dip of a curtsy, my power shudders inside me.

Push him away. Fling myself out of here. Put whatever I can between myself and the man who’s ordered the execution of every person like me.

My magic doesn’t understand why I won’t do any of that.

King Konram turns with his guards back toward the entrance to the dining hall, and a tremor runs through my body. My bottled power churns and thrashes.

A matching panic shoots through my veins. It’s only a matter of seconds before the backlash begins.

Everyone else is still holding themselves motionless on the announcer’s command. Sweat trickles down my back, and the first punishing claws dig deep into my lungs.

I stifle a gasp.

The procession marches out of view into the dining hall. The students near the doorway stir and start to walk away—and I spin toward the nearest stairwell.

I have to get away. Away from anyone who’ll see my agony and wonder why it struck now.

I just need a few minutes alone…

With each hasty step across the stone floor, the magic’s frustration twists tighter inside me. By the time I reach the doorway, my gut is throbbing and my teeth have clenched from holding back the pain.

As I dash up the stairs, piercing jolts radiate through my limbs. Shit and smitings, why must Stavros’s quarters be on the fourth wretched floor?

On the third landing, I stumble, and a choked sound escapes me. Footsteps thud against the stairs below me.

Through a haze of pain-jumbled thoughts, I hurl myself onward.

Keep my feet moving. Keep my mind on the door I have to reach. That’s all that matters.

I burst out into the blessedly empty hallway of the staff wing and stagger to the door to Stavros’s rooms.

A bump of my bracelet and a quick press of my fingers sends the door swinging open. I shove myself through just as my legs crumple under me.

I slump so fast my forehead smacks the edge of the rug. If my riven magic has claws, they’re scalding now, stabbing through my nerves across every inch of my body.

I wrap one arm around my belly instinctively. When I sputter a cough, the metallic tang of blood saturates my mouth.

If that stupid pipe fleece amplified my magic’s attacks, throwing it away hasn’t helped anything. How much worse can the backlash get?

I’m not sure I want to know.

Ivy!Julita is calling. I can’t tell how long she’s been shouting at me while I tuned everything around me out.What’s happening? This is even worse than before. I don’t know how long it’ll be until Stavros gets back.

That’s fine. I’ll ride the fit out and be back to normal before he returns, and everything will be okay.

I can’t find my voice to say that to her, though.

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