An abandoned boy, a grieving prince, and a reclusive sorcerer find themselves caught in a web of peril and mystery...
Domi, a young thief abandoned on the street at birth, just wants to save his dying foster mother. But first, he must survive the m...
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"I don't understand," Domi said in amused wonder, "how these people have any belongings left at all."
Radix smirked. They sat with Domi on the sickbed, legs folded underneath them. Across the coverlet, twenty-seven items they'd stolen from around the Collegium lay scattered in a glorious display of Pullati skill.
A gilded mirror-like black plate rested next to three thin crimson needles. By Radix's knee, a set of five stoppered flasks sat, each containing a different color of sand. On top of a pile of three books written in what appeared to be Antiqua Latina perched a jade seal, still smeared with remnants of red wax. An urn, amulet, wickedly-curved knife, and aquamarine crystal goblet covered the rest of the bed. Radix even snatched several bins of spices and all the sugar from the kitchens.
But Domi's personal favorites were a floating milky-white sphere and an animal that resembled a cat. Sort of. When awake—an infrequent occurrence—the cattus regarded the world through mismatched eyes, one blue and green and the other red and orange. A fuzzy ruff of long fur flared out like a fan around its neck when people annoyed it. At the moment, the cattus slept in Domi's lap, ruff resting relaxed across its sleek back. Its strange trilling purr filled the infirmary.
"Why didn't we think of robbing them before, right?" Radix asked, smirking as they nudged the hovering sphere toward Domi's head.
He snorted, flicking the floating ball back at the other Pullatus. They caught it before it could soar over to the beds with the unconscious Empowered kids. "Because we were scared the Promethidae might eviscerate us or strike us with lightning if we tried?"
Radix froze. "Please don't joke about that."
"It's not like it happened to you."
"True, but you slept through most of it, after. You didn't see what I saw." They swallowed hard, shuddering from head to toe. "I don't want to think about it."
Domi nodded. He supposed he would feel the same way if he had seen Radix hurt and laid out on some physician's table. He changed the subject. "So, today's the day. Are you really going to return all this when they let me out of here?"
"Sure. I took it so they would let me stay with you while you healed, but now that you're better and going to Promerenti Valens's domus—"
"I'm not going anywhere with him," Domi interrupted. "And don't call him Promerenti. He's an arse."
"Unlike you, I didn't suddenly turn into a Lightbearer," Radix reminded him, their voice soft. "I can't disrespect him."
"I'm not really a Lightbearer." So much as thinking of himself that way brought embarrassed heat to his cheeks, like he was putting on airs and trying to pretend to be someone he wasn't. "I have no laurel and no powers. When I get home, it will be like nothing ever happened."
That was not entirely true, though. He felt different. Stronger, yes, and healthier than he had felt in a long time, but different in other ways, too.
A mild but relentless headache plagued him yesterday during his tour with Valens, pounding with his heartbeat, but faded by the next morn. In its wake, his body felt strange. Sounds, sharper now but not louder, held a new, alien resonance. Colors appeared deeper, richer. His dinner—which he and Radix shared after Arbita dropped the meal off and left to attend a birth—seemed layered with complex flavors. He didn't know whether to blame the fine food or the magic. Was his new prometus warping his taste buds?
