As The World Catches Fire

Chapter 7: Trust

We arrived at our eighth session with the sage slightly ahead of schedule. We'd had no duties with Irina that morning, and had grown sick of waiting in my chambers.

Andiya paused with her hand on the door. "It's the princess." She leaned her ear to the wood. "Can you hear?"

"No."

"Give me some magic. I can't make it out properly."

"I'm not giving you magic to spy on the princess."

Andiya shot me a spiteful look and slammed open the door.

Irina and Jawahir halted shouting. They stood like warriors in an arena, ready to strike should the other move.

"Enjoy your training, Kain," Irina said tactfully. "And don't forget, Turan. I expect a report in the morning."

Andiya and I bowed as Irina departed. We joined the sage at a new writing desk set with pens and blank sheet music.

"What did the princess want?" asked Andiya.

Jawahir's brow rose. Andiya so rarely spoke during our sessions. "I am not at liberty to say," replied the sage. He leaned in conspiratorially. "But I won't tell if you don't."

"Who do I have to tell?"

"Then we can speak of Irina later," declared the sage. "For now, I thought we might try composing. Can you read music, Andiya?"

"Not like this."

"Then we shall learn today."

As Jawahir lectured to a silent Andiya about bars and times, I watched her. Though she seemed to offer just as many words as she had in our first session, there was a small change. She sat straighter, more attentive. Perhaps she didn't want to speak with Jawahir. But she felt the same effect that his gentle manner had once had on me—it was difficult to stay angry when he did not give you reason. He did not fight, did not argue. There was nothing to fuel the flame, and so it eventually went out. How long would it take Jawahir to wear Andiya down, as he had me?

Today's session seemed to be no different than the others, until the sage set down his pen.

"Forgive me, Andiya. But your bruises have not healed since the day we met. And that cut on your forearm seems to be worse."

"I have not been given any magic to heal. My master does not trust me with it."

"Ah. Rozin, release her magic."

"What?" I exclaimed. "No. The last time Andiya had full access to her magic, she murdered the archon. I can't allow the risk."

"I see. Andiya, if Rozin were to release your magic, what would you do?"

"Heal."

"And?"

Andiya fixed me with a furious glare. "Nothing more. Rozin will surely see to that."

"So there we have it. Rozin, her magic."

"Did you not hear me? She murdered the archon. She is more powerful than anything we've ever encountered. And—and I don't trust her! Not as you seem to. If I set Andiya loose she could burn the Korongorod right out of the sky."

The easy expression on Jawahir's face vanished. "Trust is earned, Rozin. How is Andiya meant to do that, when you treat her as you do? Like a dog that you have beaten and now fear it biting your hand."