“I just arrived. I was so excited to see you,” he said. There was no joy in his tone. “This isn’t how I pictured this.”
A weight dropped into her stomach. It was hard to breathe. Guilt raced all over her face. Kip saw it.
“Kip.” The word came out barely above a whisper. It was hard to breathe. “Kip, I’m a slave. You don’t understand what that means.”
“You’re not a slave.”
“How long did you follow me?” she asked. He couldn’t have followed her for long without her noticing, could he?
Kip’s expression flickered from looking like a puppy you’d kicked and a hard man, hiding his wounds. “You should probably change that bloody shift before anyone else notices it.”
She panicked, and set off rapidly, but his long gait kept him with her easily. When had he gotten so tall? Of course he hadn’t been able to follow her all the way from the city. What had he seen? Maybe he’d followed long enough to see her steal the clothes. Bad but not damning, and he’d seen the blood, worse, but still not damning.
On the other hand, if he had seen everything—from a clear vantage—he would know she wasn’t a killer. If he’d seen almost everything, he might think she was.
And what was the cost of telling him? You’re a slave Teia, not a fool. What does it mean? Think!
She got in the lift, where there was another discipulus with them, so Teia was spared having to come up with more lies.
The question wasn’t, what am I doing, the question is, what are they doing? There wasn’t one thread here, there were two.
As she and Kip stepped off the lift, her breath caught. So simple. Everything she’d stolen for Lady Verangheti—actually for Lady Aglaia Crassos, though she hadn’t known that then—had been metal so she could see it. But everything had also been easily identifiable. She’d thought it was so she would know what to steal. It wasn’t.
They’d been keeping everything she stole so they could blackmail her later—it was all proof that she was a thief.
Kip grabbed her arm painfully and pulled her around. She was suddenly aware of how big he’d gotten. Muscle was filling in everywhere the fat had been, but so slowly that none of them had noticed, until now, when he must have been starved for weeks to lose so much weight.
“Teia, dammit, tell me the truth!”
It wasn’t fair, she thought, how boys do that. How one second they’re big children, and the next second they can tear your arm off.
Looking up into her friend’s face—no, her master’s face, still, despite everything, still her master until those papers went through—she felt something inside break, but it was sweet; it was honey dripping from a broken honeycomb. He knew. She had to tell him everything and hope for the best. Even if he recoiled, even if he ran away, she wouldn’t be alone with this burden anymore. The very prospect was light and hope.
Kip seemed to realize how hard he was holding her arm, and he dropped it. “You get in a fight or something?” he asked.
Teia’s heart started beating again. He didn’t know. Relief rushed through her in waves.
He scowled, and she saw that he knew he’d botched it.
“I need to change, and we need to have this conversation somewhere where we can’t be overheard,” she said. In control once more, buying time, getting a little space to think.
Surely she wasn’t the only one who would be interested to learn that Kip was back. Surely spies would be reporting to everyone in power that he was here. Surely at least the White and the Red and the commander of the Blackguard would hustle as soon as they learned Kip was here. How long did it take the spies around here, anyway?
Then again, it would be best for Teia if she made it to the lavatories before meeting any of the servants of the most powerful and interested people in the Seven Satrapies.
“This will go better for both of us if I can get cleaned up first, Kip,” she said as she hurried.
She saw Gavin’s room slave Marissia coming from the direction of Kip’s room just as they reached the girls’ barracks. Teia kept her head down. “I’ll be five minutes,” she said as she ducked inside. “Maybe ten.”
There were no girls in the barracks. Thank Orholam for small mercies. Most were out studying or working or at dinner—which reminded Teia that she hadn’t eaten since breakfast. She closed the door behind her, and then waited, listening.
“Kip,” Marissia said, her tone constrained. “I’m delighted to see you alive. You’re needed upstairs, immediately—”
“I’m sorry, but I’m busy—”