down the passage. As she came in sight of the door of Yikmo’s room, it opened and, catching a glimpse of a black sleeve, Sonea skidded to a halt.
“Well, well. This is interesting.”
Spinning around, Sonea found Regin standing in the opposite passage, his arms crossed. “I thought you’d be following your guardian around, not hiding from him.”
She felt her face warming. “What are you doing here, Regin?”
He smiled. “Oh, I just happened along.”
“Why aren’t you in class?”
“Why aren’t you?”
She shook her head. This was pointless. “Why am I wasting my time talking to you?”
“Because he’s still there,” Regin said, smiling slyly. “And you’re too scared to face him.”
She regarded him carefully, weighing up possible responses. He would not believe a denial, and saying nothing would only confirm his suspicions.
“Scared?” She snorted. “No more than you.”
“Really?” He took a step closer. “What are you waiting for then? The gong has rung. You’re late, and your guardian is around to notice. So why are you still delaying? Or perhaps I should call out and let him know you’re hiding down here.”
She glared at him. Would he? Probably, if he thought it would get her in trouble. Yet if she left now, she would be giving in to his goading.
Better to give in than to have him call out to Akkarin. Rolling her eyes, she turned on her heel and stalked down the passage. As she neared the end, a black figure strode past the passage entrance and she froze.
To her relief, Akkarin didn’t notice her. He walked past and she heard his footsteps fading as he continued along the corridor. She heard a chuckle of satisfaction from behind. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Regin watching her, smiling.
She turned away and stepped into the corridor. Why was he so interested in whether she was scared of Akkarin or not? She shook her head. Of course, any sign that she was unhappy would give him pleasure.
But why hadn’t he been in class? What reason could he possibly have for being in this part of the University?
Surely he hadn’t been following her...
A gust of cold air greeted Lorlen as he opened the door to his office. The draft picked up a number of messages that had been slipped under the door for him and blew them out into the corridor. Seeing the number of them, he sighed and swept them inside again with a little magic.
Closing the door, he stomped across the room to his desk.
“You’re not in the best mood today.”
Jumping at the voice, Lorlen cast around for the owner. Akkarin was sitting in one of the chairs, his dark eyes reflecting the light diffused by the window screens.
“What’s bothering you, my friend?”
Lorlen shrugged. “Peakin and Davin are still at each other’s throats, Garrel wants me to allow Regin to resume lessons with Balkan, and Jerrik just passed on another request from Tya for an assistant.”
“All within your ability to solve, Administrator.”
Lorlen snorted at the use of his title. “What would you have me do, High Lord?” he asked mockingly.
Akkarin chuckled. “You know our little family better than I, Lorlen.” He pursed his lips thoughtfully. “Say ‘yes’ to Garrel, ‘no’ to Lady Tya, and as for Davin... his idea that we rebuild the Lookout so he can observe the weather is interesting. The Guild hasn’t built anything for a long time, and a lookout tower has military value - which would please Captain Arin. He’s been trying to persuade me to rebuild the Outer Wall since he became Military Adviser to the King.”
Lorlen frowned. “Surely you’re not serious. A project like that would be expensive and time-consuming. Our time would be better spent...” Lorlen paused. “Did you say ‘yes’ to Garrel? Would you have Regin’s punishment for attacking Sonea ended six months early?”
Akkarin shrugged. “Do you really think he’ll cause Sonea trouble now? The boy has talent. It is a shame to waste it.”
Lorlen nodded slowly. “It would... reduce the sting of having his adversary favored by the High Lord.”
“Balkan would agree.”
Placing the messages on his desk, Lorlen moved to his seat. “But this isn’t what you came to see me about, is it?”
Akkarin’s long fingers drummed on the arm of his chair. “No.” His eyes were thoughtful. “Is there any way we can take Rothen from Sonea’s Second Year schedule without the change looking suspicious?”
Lorlen sighed. “Must we?”
Akkarin’s expression darkened. “Yes. We must.”
The scrape of her dragging footsteps echoed in the passage. The morning lesson with Lord Yikmo had been a disaster. Her encounters with Rothen and Regin had also left her feeling too edgy and distracted for memorizing plant names in medicines, and too tired to grasp the evening mathematics lesson.
All things considered, it had been a day she would be happy to see end.
Remembering Regin’s smug expression, she wondered again what he had concluded. Perhaps he simply enjoyed the thought that she was unhappy about her change of guardian.
But would he leave her alone? If he decided she was too scared of Akkarin to report his harassment, he might start bothering her again. He would have to be careful to do it when other magicians wouldn’t see, however...
Only a blurred movement in the corner of her eye warned her. She had no time to dodge away. An arm wrapped around her neck, the other around her waist. The attacker’s momentum spun them both around, but the arm about her neck did not loosen.
She struggled, but quickly realized that her attacker was too strong for her. Then a trick Cery had taught her flashed into her mind. The memory was so vivid, she could almost hear Cery’s voice...
She felt the man toppling and gave a short laugh of satisfaction as he fell to the floor. He did not sprawl on his face, however, but nimbly rolled aside and sprang to his feet. Alarmed, she backed away, groping for a knife that wasn’t... then she stopped and stared at her attacker in surprise.
Lord Yikmo looked strangely unfamiliar in ordinary clothing. A plain sleeveless shirt revealed surprisingly muscular shoulders. He crossed his arms and nodded.
“I thought so.”
Sonea stared at him, her surprise slowly turning to annoyance.
The Warrior smiled. “I may have found the source of your problem, Sonea.”
She swallowed an angry retort. “What is it, then?”
“From your reaction just now it’s clear that your first response to an attack is physical. You learned that defensive maneuver in the slums, didn’t you?”
She nodded reluctantly.
“Did you have a particular trainer?”
“No.”
