Sabaa Tahir

I’ve forgotten about the Third Trial, about the Augurs, about Helene. All I can think of is Laia.

I’m not going to forget her just because she’s a slave.

I send a silent thanks to Cook. If Laia survived, it’s no doubt due to the older woman’s ministrations. Should I visit the girl? What will I say? “Sorry Marcus nearly raped and killed you. Heard you’re feeling better, though.”

I can’t visit her. She won’t want to see me anyway. I’m a Mask. If she hates me for that alone, it’s reason enough.

But maybe I can stop by the house. Cook can tell me how Laia’s doing. I can take something for her, something small. Flowers? I look around the school grounds. Blackcliff doesn’t have flowers. Maybe I’ll give her a dagger. There are plenty of those around, and skies know she needs one.

“You think I want to feel this way about you? I hate it, Elias. Watching you flirt with Illustrian girls and sleep with Scholar slaves and find the good in everyone—everyone—but me.” A sob escapes her—the only time I’ve ever heard her cry. She chokes it back. “Loving you is the worst thing that has ever happened to me—worse than the Commandant’s whippings, worse than the Trials. It’s torture, Elias.”