Tauran glared at her, but she only winked on her way out the door.
CHAPTER 20
Tauran’s re-initiation ceremony was held at the guard grounds. It was the first time Kalai had been inside. He dressed up nice, in a long jacket despite the heat. There was to be a dinner, and General Falka would hold a speech. Most of the Sky Guard was invited, along with whichever ground guards and soldiers weren’t on duty, no doubt to Tauran’s displeasure. In place of family, Kalai had been the only person Tauran had invited, although he knew Tauran would rather skip the whole ceremony if he could.
After his bloody discovery in the archive, Kalai, too, felt suddenly unsure.
He had turned it over and over in his head. There were two possibilities. Either, someone had attacked the archivist, and he had scratched the letters on the floor, urging whoever found them to contact the Sky Guard. Or, and this was the worse theory, the attacker was the Sky Guard, and the writing was a warning.
“Kalai Ro-Ani,” Kalai said to the guard at the gate. “I’m a guest of Mister Darrica.”
The guard let him in and accompanied Kalai to the dining hall. The open entrance had been modestly decorated with silver ribbons.
Kalai remembered his conversation with Sky Commander Landa about the archivist’s death. Old age, he had said. The guy had been nearly ninety. But then, what about the blood? Was it someone else’s? And why would the Sky Guard avoid mentioning the giant pool of blood below the rug? Did it have something to do with the burned documents and the strange messages, circled and underlined in red? Or maybe, and this was equally plausible, Kalai’s overactive imagination was at play again, and it was simply a string of coincidences and a really bad accident. He supposed it wouldn’t seem so strange that the guard would keep a gruesome accident from the brand new tenant, lest it would scare him away. They had been incredibly eager to employ him.
“Kalai Ro-Ani?” A man dressed in black and copper, the colors of the ground guard, gestured to him. When Kalai confirmed, the man led him to one of the decked tables and pulled out a chair beside a young woman in a black and silver uniform and dark curly hair decorated with white flowers.
She turned to him and smiled. “Hi. Catria Sarellus,” she said.
“Kalai Ro-Ani.” Kalai smiled and shook her hand. “There’s a baker on my street with the name Sarellus.”
“Lilypetal Street? Yeah, that’d be my father,” Catria said.
“Oh! Well, he’s an excellent craftsman. I buy all my lunches there.”
“Thank you! Are you a friend of Tauran’s?” She turned fully toward him, resting an arm over the back of her chair.
“Yes. I’m the new archivist,” Kalai said.
Catria clicked her tongue against her teeth. “That makes sense. The archive is on Lilypetal Street. I thought I recognized you from when we picked up Leyra. So you’re the one who hatched her?”
Kalai nodded. “Yes. Well, Tauran and I did it together.”
Catria’s smile turned soft. “I’m glad he’s been making friends. He struggled for a long time, but I haven’t seen him this happy since before...” She trailed off, biting her bottom lip.
“Since before the battle,” Kalai finished. “He told me about it.”
Catria nodded slowly, and she looked at him suddenly in a new way, as if trying to figure out just how good friends he was with Tauran to have Tauran share something so personal.
“So, have you been with the Sky Guard long?” Kalai asked, remembering Tauran’s warning to keep the true depth of their relationship under wraps. He accepted a glass of something clear and bubbling from a young man dressed in white.
“Tauran and I graduated together,” she said, taking a glass. “Along with Emilian Landa. Eight years ago.”
“I know a Sky Commander Landa.”
She nodded. “Emilian Landa is Ground General. Commander Roric’s brother.”
Kalai hummed in understanding and took a sip of the mystery drink. He blinked when the chilled liquid seemed to heat his tongue, although he tasted no alcohol. “Did you know the old archivist, by any chance?”
Catria shrugged. “Not well. Why?”
“No reason,” Kalai said, in the most casual tone he could manage. “I translated some of his daily logs, and he seemed like an interesting if slightly peculiar fellow. Commander Landa told me he passed away?”
“Yes?” Catria said, dragging out the word, posing it as a question and not an answer.
“Do you know what happened?”
Catria’s eyes flicked away, the briefest of tells. The pause before