Page 22 of Games of Death and Desire

Stavros’s glower returns. “Your performance is the one that really matters here, Thief. But we already know how good you are at lying.”

My fingers curl into my palms. I simultaneously picture slamming my fist into his arrogant face and have a minor panic attack imagining the consequences of doing so.

I drop my hands to my sides instead and jerk my head toward the door. “Let’s get out there.”

Stavros pushes past me without another remark, leaving me to trot obediently at his heels like a good little assistant. I plaster a serene expression on my face as we head out of the Domi.

I’m dressed in a thin shirt and trousers this morning, because supposedly I’m going to be helping him with his combat lessons. But with the thick leather vest strapped over the shirt, it doesn’t feel that much more comfortable than my frothy dresses do.

A pang of homesickness for my old tunic and breeches, for my old life without the judgmental stares and sneers, reverberates through my chest. I was never exactlysaferoaming the streets, stealing from corrupt merchants and leaving coins for the needy… but it was definitely simpler than my current situation.

I don’t even know if I’ll be able to go back to being just the Hand of Kosmel after we’ve taken down the scourge sorcerers. Not now that my secret is out.

One problem at a time.

We hustle into the Quadring and up the stairs to the professors’ offices. In theory, we’re grabbing a piece of equipment from Stavros’s office before the class.

Actually, we happen to know that Ster. Torstem finishes up his own office hours right around this time.

As we emerge from the stairwell, Stavros drops his voice so no one other than me will make out his voice. “Just up ahead. Third door on the right.”

I nod. “Got it. Five paces past it?”

“That sounds reasonable. Then you’d better talk fast.”

“I think I can manage that.”

Our hushed conversation will sound terse even if no one who notices it can distinguish the words. Which is perfect, because five paces past the door to Torstem’s office, I raise my voice as if getting caught up in an argument we’ve already been having. “You can’t really think they’re handling this problem properly.”

Stavros spins around to face me. I jar to a stop with a flash of very genuine discomfort at the fierceness of his expression. “And you thinkyouknow better than the royal family?”

My magic stirs at the hostility vibrating through the air. I clamp down on it, reminding it that this is just pretend.

We’re speaking loudly enough that our voices should travel through Torstem’s door now. I think I catch the creak of the floor on the other side.

Just in case, I add a little more rancor to my words. “They’re stuck doing the same old thing. It’s obvious the gods aren’t happy with them.”

“So you’d prefer for the royal family to let the city collapse around our ears?”

I set my hands on my hips, restraining a shiver at rephrasing the words Wendos said to me in the tower. “Sometimes a few things need to get knocked down so we can build something better. Even the All-Giver thought so.”

Julita shudders inside me.And may the Great One have smote the first guy who said that.

Stavros steps closer—for the benefit of anyone who happens to peek out, but I can’t help suspecting he’s enjoying looming over me. Letting me feel his frustration with this whole situation.

“You’d better watch what you say out loud,” he says. “You’d better watch what you’rethinking.”

“I’m only saying the truth!”

He scoffs harshly. “Then you’re a bigger idiot than I thought. Get out of my face until you’ve had a chance to get your head on straight.”

That’s my cue to take off. Tamping down the racing of my pulse, I give an exasperated sigh and storm off down the hall.

My heart isn’t thundering so loud I miss the squeak of hinges behind me. Or Ster. Torstem’s voice, low and even, just before I round the bend. “Having a little friction with your new assistant?”

A flicker of triumph cuts through my unsettled thoughts. He’s taken the bait.

Now Stavros can vent to Torstem a little about my ridiculous attitudes—attitudes we know the law professor will secretly approve of.

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