Sure enough, Klara found Zin sitting in the mess with a mountain of food in front of her. Raucous conversations overlapped each other as the large group of wardens slipped closer to inebriation. A loud cheer to her right caught her attention—Yeger Warden lifting a glass and loudly toasting his acceptance into the Sentinels. Again. Some were slipping faster than others.
Klara groaned. Yeger was going to be insufferable in training. He was nothing but a bully, yet somehow superiors only saw the boot-licking and muscle. Still, she supposed, boot cleaning was an honest skill.
She slid onto the bench opposite Zin, who looked up, a greasy smile on her face as she ripped a chunk off a chicken leg.
“Food is good tonight,” Zin said, a piece of half-masticated chicken flying from her mouth and sticking to the table in front of Klara. “Whoops.” Zin leaned forwards and swiped the chicken up and popped it back in her mouth. “I was wondering when you’d get back. Saw you leave the hall in a hurry after your father spoke to you.”
“I needed to think,” Klara said, her nose wrinkling at Zin. Will she ever eat with her mouth closed?
“Spit it out,” Zin said.
“Only if you don’t spit more food out.”
Zin grinned and slurped her drink. “Good one.”
“Today was enough to make the depths sound like paradise.” Klara pressed her palms into her eyes and sighed. “My wonderful father has organised with the council for me to go to Ledavsk…” She looked up at the sound of her friend coughing.
Zin took a swig of water, tears streaming down her cheeks. “He what?” she asked, between bouts of coughing.
“I don’t even get the chance to prove myself at Borovsk.”
“He can’t do that,” Zin said. “Only the gate forts can choose who they take—based on Borovsk’s recommendations.”
“I imagine he’s already spoken to Ledavsk’s commander.”
“Wow. You’ve got worse luck than a guildless in a blizzard.”
“Speaking of guildless…” Klara said.
“Uh oh.”
“So Mikhail came and said hi. The Alchemists tried to dishonour him and are now searching for him.”
Zin’s jaw sagged. “You’re serious?”
“Yup. He spun this insane tale about how the Grand Master and Voronin Master did something to Elana, then asked him to decode her journal. When he refused, they threw him in prison.”
“He thinks Voronin… hurt her?” Zin asked, an eyebrow arching.
“Is it really that hard to believe?”
“I dunno,” Zin said. “That doesn’t sound like something he’d do.”
“How do you mean?”
Zin stared at her plate of food. “Well, I know the Alchemists are worried things will return to how they were before the Exodus, but murder or kidnapping?”
“The Watchman Guild,” Klara said flatly.
“They tried to remove the Alchemist Guild from Kosgrad.”
Klara cocked her head. “Where did you hear that?”
“I have my sources,” Zin said with a wink. “Besides, over the long haul Alchemists have done more good than bad.”
“That’s a dangerous stance, siding with the Alchemist Guild in here.”
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“Not as dangerous as speaking ill of them in such a public place,” Zin said, waving the chicken leg at the busy mess.
“Oh come on,” Klara said. “No one here is going to tell the Alchemists I called them a bunch of guildless muckers.”
Zin shook her head and sighed. “That’s on your head. I—for one—will continue to utter words of reverence to the great and mighty Alchemist Guild who keep us supplied with extracts and Alchemtek so we can defend Vlanovia from monstrous invaders.” Zin took a deep breath. “And, will never defame them… in public.”
A smile cracked Klara’s lips, and she laughed.
“There we go!” Zin said, grinning at her, revealing a row of white teeth—with more than a few pieces of chicken stuck between them. “Now, Mikhail. Did you help him?”
“Sort of.”
Zin’s cheer disappeared like frost in the noon sun. “Please tell me you didn’t actually help a dishonoured?”
Blood rushed to Klara’s cheeks. “He’s my brother, of course I helped him.” You barely did anything, liar.
“Klara, you’ve done some stupid things, but helping a dishonoured Alchemist is probably the worst I’ve seen you do.”
“Oh really? And what would you have done?”
“Not put the Warrior Guild at risk by helping someone dimwitted enough to get himself dishonoured by the Alchemists.”
“What about the Sentinel Code?” Klara asked.
“What about it? You think ‘family’ refers to your blood relations?”
“Of course it does.”
Zin laughed. “Oh, Klara, don’t be so simple. A Sentinel’s family is the brothers and sisters who stand by her side. The men and women courageous enough to take an oath to protect the world.”
Klara scowled at Zin and pushed the bench back, standing. “I’ll leave you to your dinner.”
“Oh don’t be like that,” Zin said, wiping her mouth on her coat sleeve and rising.
Klara snorted and stalked out of the mess.
Zin quickly caught up and fell into step beside her. “Mikhail ceased being your brother the day he broke his oath and left the Warrior Guild.”
“That was two years ago, what if he’s changed? Grown up?”
“Yes, clearly changed so much that the Alchemist Guild just had to dishonour his loyal backside.”
They reached one of the stairways and started up.
“Speaking of loyalty to the Alchemist Guild,” Klara said, “I almost wonder if you consider them more family than you do me…”
Zin choked back a laugh. “I respect the Alchemist Guild—I respect them enough to obey the laws they give for their city. Besides, if I didn’t consider you a sister, I wouldn’t still be here trying to drum into your thick skull just how stupid it is to help a dishonoured.”
Klara stepped onto the sixth floor and marched towards their quarters, Zin close behind. “Well, thank you so much for your incredible kindness in trying to turn me against my family.”
“For the Sovereign Sculptor’s sake!” Zin said, her voice finally rising. “Do you want to be a Sentinel, Klara?”
“I wouldn’t have spent ten years of my life training if I didn’t…”
“If you help Mikhail, you will never be a Sentinel. It is against the law for anyone to help the dishonoured. If the Alchemists—or the Sentinels—find out you helped Mikhail, you can wish your life’s dream goodbye, and get used to syphoning uzhas from the mines, watching your companions go mad one by one until you, likewise, go crazy.”
Klara ground her teeth, but couldn’t escape the truth in Zin’s words. Besides, when Mikhail left he abandoned her, leaving her to deal with their father’s ever-increasing bitterness and criticism.
“Look,” Zin said. “I’m not saying you have to hand Mikhail over to the Alchemists, only that you shouldn’t get involved with whatever game he’s up to. There’s too much at stake.”
Klara reached their quarters, stepped inside, and frowned. Something was missing. She gazed around, the bunk and blankets were there. Desk and chair, paper on the desk. Pen still there. Spare boots, check. Coat rack still… Klara stared at the empty coat rack, her eyes widening. Mikhail…
A cry of rage escaped her lips as she spun and drove her fist into the concrete doorframe.
Crack!
She stood, flexing her fingers and staring at the chipped concrete.
Zin lounged against the opposite side of the doorway, arms folded and the faintest hint of a smirk in her eyes.
“Fine,” Klara said, “he hasn’t changed. I won’t help him anymore.”
“Barinova?” a man called from the hallway, catching Zin’s attention. “You have a visitor.”
“All right,” Zin said, “let them know I’ll be down soon.” She turned her attention back to Klara. “Don’t worry about Mikhail, there’s no more harm he can do, and we’ll keep this between us. You get a new coat tomorrow so no one needs to know you helped him.”
Klara nodded curtly as Zin turned and followed the messenger. She shut the door and sank onto her bed, trying to find some small flicker of excitement about going to Borovsk.
Nothing.
Finally, success, yet all she felt was anger and betrayal. Zin was right, she needed to rely on her comrades, those who fought beside her. Not the Sentinel officers, not her guildless brother, but Zin, Irmina, and… what the depths, even Yeger.
