“No, I get it,” said Exero moving forward again. “Just not sure I believe it.”
“You have to believe it,” said Famissa. “The White Queen herself said it was true.”
“Yeah, point,” said Exero. “Then I guess I don’t understand how this hell we’re living in works after all.”
Scorio felt his ears burning now, and kept his gaze firmly on the road’s flagstones. “Anyone would have done the same if they were in my position.”
“Sure,” said Exero dryly. “That’s why all the Pyre Lords and Blood Barons were lined up right behind you, awaiting their turn.”
“That’s just amazing,” said Famissa, moving to walk closer by his side. When he looked up at her, she was smiling at him, a smile that slowly grew as he held her gaze. “I mean, you literally saved Bastion.”
Exero sighed pointedly. “I think Sol literally saved Bastion.”
Famissa flipped her curly black hair back over one shoulder, ignoring Exero. “And now you’re joining the Academy, right?”
“Right,” said Scorio, throat tight, widening the space between them just a fraction.
“Well, I’m a Cinder like you, but I’d be happy to show you around,” she said, voice warm. “The Academy’s huge, and it took me weeks to orient myself. Where the food hall is, how to get to all the different training chambers, how to navigate the quartermaster and the way to requisition new clothing or whatever.”
“Oh,” said Scorio, unsure as to how to answer. “That’s really thoughtful of you.”
She laughed. “It’s nothing! Despite what Exero says, we all owe you a debt of gratitude, right? Least we can do is help you figure out how the Academy works.”
“Thanks.” Scorio offered her a wan smile—her gaze was direct and intense, and her smile seemed to only grow wider. “I’ll, ah, keep an eye out for you.”
“Great! I’ll hold you to it. When we get back, I’ll take you to the administrators, if any of them are around. They’ll help you find a room.”
“I think I’ve got that part under control,” he said. “I’ll be stopping in to visit some friends at the Hall of Golden Reflections.”
Famissa’s voice rose slightly in surprise. “Oh, you already have friends in the Academy?”
“Just a couple,” he said with a rueful smile. “I’m amazed they’ve put up with me this long, but yes.”
“Oh. Well.” Her smile resurfaced. “That’s great. My offer still stands though.”
He beamed at her, feeling on more solid ground. “That’s great, thank you.”
When they arrived at the Academy, they found a scene of controlled chaos; people were streaming in through the front doors, a combination of intent messengers and House bureaucrats along with exhausted Great Souls and servants.
Famissa escorted him to the staircase leading down to the Hall of Golden Reflections, then waved as she turned reluctantly to head toward her own quarters. Weary and elated both, Scorio hurried down the steps and into the gloomy hall. It felt surreal to walk openly down its length, and he kept expecting the Hell Whip to grab him by the shoulder and turn him around.
Instead, he stopped before the deeply recessed third door, its bronze surface inlaid with an abstract pattern of pearl and silver.
Grinning, Scorio pounded his fist upon it, then stepped back.
A moment later the door was yanked open by Lianshi, who let out a squeal and launched herself into his arms. Laughing, Scorio staggered back as the strength of her hug caused his spine to pop in several locations. Leonis crowded out beside them, laughing and shaking him by the shoulder, till they all collapsed into a group hug.
“What did you do?” Lianshi thrust herself back to arm’s length, her eyes glimmering with delight, her face betraying her incredulity. “Scorio! What did you do?”
“I don’t care about the what, I want to know how,” said Leonis, grinning broadly. “Get in here! Don’t spill your secrets in public!”
Heads were popping out of the other alcoves down the length of the hallway, but before anyone could come closer his friends dragged him into their room and closed the door firmly behind him.
Naomi sat at their dining table, rolling a cup back and forth between her fingers, her face closed, brow lowered.
Their cheer quieted under her fierce scrutiny, and Scorio straightened. “Naomi. You’re here.”
“Not as if I had much choice,” she said quietly. “What with an Imperator telling me it was time I left the safety of the ruins to come back to the Academy.”
“Sol didn’t give you a choice?” asked Scorio, tugging at his robes as he drifted up to the table.
“Well, not exactly. I mean, he did. Technically.” Naomi looked down at her cup. “But it’s hard to say no to an Imperator who’s decided to do you a favor.”
“Oh.” Scorio felt his shoulders slump. “I’m sorry. I didn’t have time to ask you, and didn’t want to risk his leaving without giving you a chance to join us. I didn’t mean to force your hand.”
“We’ve only just met,” said Leonis, “but I can already tell Naomi is a terminal grouch.” Naomi narrowed her eyes dangerously at Leonis, but he only grinned wider at her. “What? Are you going to disembowel me for speaking the truth?”
“And she was given a choice,” said Lianshi firmly, linking her arm through Scorio’s. “We pried it out of her. We’ve been here all afternoon, waiting for you to get back.” She stepped away again and slapped his shoulder. “How could you leave us languishing here without any idea what had happened to you?”
Scorio raised his hands defensively and laughed in pleased surprise. “I wasn’t given a choice! Praximar sent me off with Exero to help quell the problems in the city. You weren’t given duties?”
“We’re Cinders,” said Leonis grimly. “We’re not trusted to wipe our—”
“Leonis!” admonished Lianshi.
“I mean, we’re, ah—no. We were told to stay in the Academy.”
“Well, Praximar told me to go help out. Which I did. Which was… exhausting. Almost more overwhelming than dealing with Imogen.” Scorio rubbed at the back of his head. “So many people were panicked, so many were hurt, that I felt more helpless than ever to make a difference.”
“You’re a Cinder,” said Naomi wryly. “You have to lower your sights. You’re not yet at the level where you can help entire cities.”
“He did defeat Imogen single-handedly,” said Lianshi.
“Well, not quite,” said Scorio.
“How did you do it?” Leonis raised his fists, stepped in close, and threw a couple of feints. “Uppercut to the gut, knocking the wind out of her, then roundhouse to the jaw?”
“Right, exactly,” said Scorio. “Of course first I asked her to put her Ferula down, whatever that is, and then told her it wasn’t fair for her to fight me while awake, so she obliged by going to sleep—”
“Stop!” Lianshi slapped his shoulder again. “Seriously, Scorio! The Academy’s going wild with speculation. The White Queen herself brought you to Praximar, right? Said that you had played a crucial role in the fight? So tell us already!”
“Ha, fine,” said Scorio, smiling self-consciously. “But first—Naomi. Do you really not want to be here? I’m sure you could return to the ruins if you wanted to…”
“No,” said Naomi, staring down at her cup, her voice growing very small. “I don’t want to go back to the ruins.”
Leonis cupped his hand to his ear. “What was that? I didn’t hear. Can you say it louder for those of us in the back?”
Naomi rose to her feet, and in a blur shifted up to her Nightmare Lady form. And despite his familiarity with that dark, emaciated shape, her lipless maw, her burning green eyes, Scorio felt his stomach clench as her bladed tail rose to orient on Leonis.
“Careful how far you push me,” she hissed.
Leonis, however, spread his arms open wide. “Right here, oh dread Emberling. Pierce me through the heart.”