The Poppy War (The Poppy War #1) - R. F. Kuang Page 0,53
as sellers to root out the first-years who were willing to cheat.
Menda, a boy from the Horse Province, had agreed to meet with an apprentice after hours in the temple on the fourth tier to purchase a list of Jima’s exam questions. Rin didn’t know how the apprentice had managed the timing, but Jima had been meditating in said temple that very night.
Menda was noticeably absent from campus the next day.
Meals became silent and reserved affairs. Everyone ate with a book held before his or her nose. If any students ventured to strike up a conversation, the rest of the table quickly and violently shushed them. In short, they made themselves miserable.
“Sometimes I think this is as bad as the Speer Massacre,” Kitay said cheerfully. “And then I think—nah. Nothing is as bad as the casual genocide of an entire race! But this is pretty bad.”
“Kitay, please shut up.”
Rin continued to train alone in the garden. She never saw Jiang anymore, but that was just as well; masters were banned from training the students for the Tournament, although Rin suspected Nezha was still receiving instruction from Jun.
One day she heard footsteps as she approached the garden gate. Someone was inside.
At first she hoped it might be Jiang, but when she opened the door she saw a lean, graceful figure with indigo-black hair.
It took her a moment to process what she’d stumbled upon.
Altan. She’d interrupted Altan Trengsin in his practice.
He wielded a three-pronged trident—no, he didn’t just wield it, he held it intimately, curved it through the air like a ribbon. It was both an extension of his arm and a dance partner.
She should have turned to go, found somewhere else to train, but she couldn’t help her curiosity. She couldn’t look away. From a distance, he was extraordinarily beautiful. Up close, he was hypnotizing.
He turned at the sound of her footsteps, saw her, and stopped.
“I’m so sorry,” she stammered. “I didn’t know you were—”
“It’s a school garden,” he said neutrally. “Don’t leave on my account.”
His voice was more somber than she had anticipated. She had imagined a harsh, barking tone to match his brutal movements in the ring, but Altan’s voice was surprisingly melodious, soft and deep.
His pupils were oddly constricted. Rin couldn’t tell if it was simply the light in the garden, but his eyes didn’t seem red then. Rather, they looked brown, like hers.
“I’ve never seen that form before,” Rin uttered.
Altan raised an eyebrow. She immediately regretted opening her mouth. Why had she said that? Why did she exist? She wanted to crumble into ashes and scatter away into the air.
But Altan just looked surprised, not irritated. “Stick around Jiang long enough, and you’ll learn plenty of arcane forms.” He shifted his weight to his back leg and brought his arms in a flowing motion around to the other side of his torso.
Rin’s cheeks burned. She felt very clumsy and vast, like she was taking up space that belonged to Altan, even though she was on the other end of the garden. “Master Jiang didn’t say anyone else liked to come here.”
“Jiang likes to forget about a lot of things.” He tilted his head at her. “You must be quite the student, if Jiang’s taken an interest in you.”
Was that bitterness in his voice, or was she imagining things?
She remembered then that Jiang had withdrawn his bid for Altan, right after Altan had declared he wanted to pledge Lore. She wondered what had happened, and if it still bothered Altan. She wondered if she’d annoyed him by bringing Jiang up.
“I stole a book from the library,” she managed. “He thought that was funny.”
Why was she still talking? Why was she still here?
The corner of Altan’s mouth quirked up in a terribly attractive grin, which set her heart beating erratically. “What a rebel.”
She flushed, but Altan just turned away and completed the form.
“Don’t let me stop you from training,” he said.
“No, I—I came here to think. But if you’re here—”
“I’m sorry. I can leave.”
“No, it’s okay.” She didn’t know what she was saying. “I was going to—I mean, I’ll just . . . bye.”
She quickly backed out of the garden. Altan didn’t say anything else.
Once she had closed the garden gates behind her, Rin buried her face in her hands and groaned.
“Is there ever a place for meekness in battle?” Irjah asked. This was the seventh question he had posed to her.
Rin was on a streak. Seven was the maximum number of questions any master could ask, and if