"We finished the choosing hours ago," Julian says, just loud enough for every proctor to hear. His voice that had been tinged with slight excitement a few hours ago had slid back into its usual lacquered indifference. His eyes drift over Evanaora, then past as though she doesn't merit true focus. "Could you stop insulting my students? Well I think so at least its hard to tell where a man without pupils is really looking.
We had been subject yet to another interview by the proctors who wanted to discuss exactly what the siblings had shown us and said to us. But surprisingly they didn't force the information, the questioned but since we had passed they had shown a surprising amount of begrudging respect. All expect one that is.
Evanaora's response is a peal of silver laughter and her grin widens. She draws one long finger along the scar that covers her face, then turns the full weight of her icy pink stare on me. A wink slow, theatrical flickers between lashes. The look inside those eyes is impossible to name. Malice? Amusement? A scholar's curiosity? Perhaps she doesn't know herself.
Freak of a proctor. I stifle the urge to roll my eyes, more exhausted than angry.
Lucian exhales through his nose an aristocratic sniff then adjusts the collar of his robe as if the fabric suddenly offends him. This just sets Evanaora off again as she resorts to mocking once again as she shifts her target to Vihaan's still soiled pants. What a foul bitch of a woman.
Julian adjusts his robe's collar with a flick that speaks volumes about his current impatience. "Enough standing around. Follow me," he says. "You will bathe, change into proper uniform, and meet the rest of House Apophis. Classes began three days ago for you first years; your lateness harmed no one but yourselves."
The casual dismissal of everything we endured on the journey here, the freezing nights, the monster, the murdered. I can feel the rest of my cohorts anger bubbling at his tone. I understand their anger, but I let mine drain away. This place doesn't pretend to care about our losses; at least the cruelty is honest. If we're meant to become weapons, why mourn the dents we picked up in transit? I chuckle under my breath at the sheer audacity of it. The sound startles Rye who looks at me wide eyed.
We move out in single file behind Julian, Evanaora trailing like an elegant vulture and I wonder if she really has nothing better to fucking do. The corridor slopes downward the hallway lit perfectly with no torches in sight. Each footstep echoes.
Eventually the chill fades, replaced by damp warmth. A tang of salt and cedar rides the air. Steam curls past a massive wooden door with the imperial snake carved beautifully into it. Baths. Finally.
Inside the baths two distinct pathways jutted into separate pools. Julian stops at the threshold. "Fifteen minutes," he says. "Separate pools for males and females. Healers will address injuries afterward. "Wash thoroughly you are all displeasing to smell."
The men's pool is massive and the walls are a nice quartz that refracts the dim lighting. Water steams, fragrant with juniper and pine. My filthy clothes hit the benches in a quickness, and I slide into heat so perfect it robs breath for a heartbeat. Muscles unwind.
Rye's voice echoes from the women's side, a brief laugh cut with fatigue. Dominic lowers himself carefully his arm still in our shitty makeshift sling. Poor bastard. Vihaan sinks to his chin, eyes shut, he hasn't been able to meet anyone's gaze since pissing himself. Niko closes his eyes as well and lets the water swallow sound. Lucian sinks in and floats on his back and I resist the urge to splash him.
For the first time since the choosing, the silence feels gentle and without the promise of death and violence. I drift a palm across the surface thinking deeply about what I had seen from the dragons me as a healer, a tyrant, a killer, an inquisitor, a loving father and brother. How odd that lives can be changed by a rock skipping across a pond. I slap the water watching the ripples spread across the bath and disappear. Fitting.
I wash and relax until the others start getting out and I realize the time was up, I sigh and stand. In the dressing room our new Elite uniforms with our house sigil emblazed on them were left on benches.
When we file out, two healers in white robes marking them as proctors wait. They work quickly: a word from the man and Dominic's bone snaps back into place, a wave of the woman's hand to drain the swelling in Vihaan's knee, a touch over Zaria's cracked knuckles.
Julian inspects us, eyes still unfocused yet seeing everything. A tiny nod. "hmm acceptable I suppose."
He turns and says nothing. We follow through hallways and I had the sneaking suspicion that the proctors could control the stair cases because we once again conveniently pass no one which should be impossible. Finally the last staircase ends at a towering wooden door. Julian pauses slightly his hand on the knob. Those blank eyes sweep our line one last time. "Welcome to House Apophis dear students," he says.
The doors swing. Light floods in from high clerestory windows. The House Apophis commons is a cathedral of polished black marble tile encrusted with diamonds, abalone shell, mother-of-pearl, and black onyx. I feel my eye twitch at the sheer fucking amount of wealth and its just the floor. Even the royal chambers didn't have such luxury. My eyes flick around the huge room and I see multiple sets of stairs and one that leads to the balconies, there's a long table strewn with maps and a group of students sit around it. Voices clash like duelists, dozens of students mid-argument, They turn as we enter. Interest flickers in their eyes.
Julian leads us the table and gestures at us. The conversation ceases and the students all stand and salute him. He ignores them and addresses the room without raising his voice.
"This is what's left of our first years, they competed the choosing as punishment for their lateness, their burden has been paid. Now as their betters you must test them and sharpen them. If they snap, discard the pieces."
The room of students don't even flinch at Julian's words or tone, or even seemingly care about the choosing announcement they just salute him again and in unison say "Per Aspera Ad Astra"
With that him and Evanaora leave.
And I suddenly felt like I'm in danger.