“What do you want me to do?” Liv asked. Was she really going to be tutoring the Prism’s son? Bastard son, but still. She felt like a huge weight had been lifted off of her. The Prism was just the Prism—well, maybe there was no such thing as being just the most powerful man in the world—but he was a lord to whom she owed service. Normal service. Something not terribly hard, given how completely he’d changed her life.
“Maybe he’ll be a monochrome. Probably will be. I’m getting ahead of myself,” Gavin said.
“But if he’s not?” You’ve got to let me know what your expectations are or I’m going to fail—and then you’ll be mad at me for that. Typical nobleman. Liv felt good that she was able to be irritated. She was regaining her bearings.
“Pretend he’s normal. In all ways. I know he’d figure it out pretty quickly if we stay, but I’m going to take him away from here as soon as I possibly can. Until then, give him some normalcy. If he makes you mad, yell at him. Smack his knuckles with a stick if he misbehaves, you understand? But if he masters something difficult, pretend it’s good but nothing out of the norm. I want him to know that those who matter aren’t going to be impressed by who his father is or how much he can draft.”
“And who are these people?” Liv asked sarcastically. She hadn’t really meant to say it out loud, but Gavin was being ridiculously idealistic. Of course who he was and how much he could draft mattered. Maybe when you were born on the top of the mountain you could pretend the mountain didn’t matter, but those who climbed it and those born at its base who could never climb at all knew differently.
“Me and Orholam,” Gavin said, ignoring her tone. “If we’re the only ones whose approval he cares about, he’s got a chance.”
Liv didn’t know if that was the most arrogant or the most profound thing she’d ever heard. Maybe both. Whatever else it did, though, it reminded her who and what Gavin was. By Orholam’s scowling brow, she’d been glibly sarcastic to the Prism, the man closest in all the world to Orholam himself. And thank Orholam that Liv had turned down that awful woman. Even if it was going to cost her dearly. Spying on the Prism himself? It was practically sacrilegious. As bad as Liv’s stupidity and awkwardness and horrifying sliver of infatuation was, how awful would it have been to be a traitor too? She swallowed. “I’m sorry, Lord Prism, I was out of—”
Gavin raised a hand and stood abruptly.
Liv glanced at the crystal but saw nothing. The crystal hadn’t changed. She looked over at Gavin in time to see the Prism blanch—then his face was lit up like the sun had just come out from behind the blackest clouds.
A wash of colors flashed through his skin and he threw out a hand toward the crystal. A crackling, shimmering tube of luxin shot from his hand and stuck to the crystal on the opposite wall like an iridescent spiderweb on fire. More and more gushed out of the man, pushing deep into the crystal.
And then, as abruptly as he started, Gavin stopped. A moment later, the crystal glowed a brilliant jade green, and then a less intense blue.
Gavin sighed with relief.
“What was that?” Liv asked.
“A secret!” Gavin barked. He gestured, and Liv felt a gust of cold wind and heard the windows drop heavily into their slots.
“Come here,” the Prism ordered. His body filled with every color in the rainbow and beyond. A rope of green luxin wrapped around a chain of yellow-infused blue ran from his hand. “Now, girl! I have to be there first to contain this, and he’s going to need you.”
In a daze, Liv hurried over to the Prism. She didn’t even know what he was talking about.
“Get on my back,” he said.
“What?”
“On my back, now! Hold on tight.”
She jumped on his back. His body was unnaturally hot from the sub-reds he was holding along with every other color. What was he doing? She looked at the chain he was holding again. Then he turned and faced the void outside his window. She squeaked and held on with a death grip.
“Nna tha igh!” the Prism said.
“What?” Liv asked, loosening her grip around his neck.
“Not that tight,” he growled.
Even as she apologized, bands of luxin whipped around her body, holding her tight against him. Gavin took a run toward the window and leapt.
Liv’s view, at first, was only of the luxin spooling out of Gavin’s hand like spider’s silk, perfectly matching the rate at which they were falling. She realized she had no idea how far exactly they would have to fall to get to the level of the Threshing Chamber, or how Gavin would know when to stop them. For that matter, how did he mean to get back into the tower from the outside? Hope someone left a window open?