“Pretend he’s normal. In all ways. I know he’d figure it out pretty quickly if we stay, but I’m going to take him away from here as soon as I possibly can. Until then, give him some normalcy. If he makes you mad, yell at him. Smack his knuckles with a stick if he misbehaves, you understand? But if he masters something difficult, pretend it’s good but nothing out of the norm. I want him to know that those who matter aren’t going to be impressed by who his father is or how much he can draft.”

“And who are these people?” Liv asked sarcastically. She hadn’t really meant to say it out loud, but Gavin was being ridiculously idealistic. Of course who he was and how much he could draft mattered. Maybe when you were born on the top of the mountain you could pretend the mountain didn’t matter, but those who climbed it and those born at its base who could never climb at all knew differently.

“Me and Orholam,” Gavin said, ignoring her tone. “If we’re the only ones whose approval he cares about, he’s got a chance.”

Liv didn’t know if that was the most arrogant or the most profound thing she’d ever heard. Maybe both. Whatever else it did, though, it reminded her who and what Gavin was. By Orholam’s scowling brow, she’d been glibly sarcastic to the Prism, the man closest in all the world to Orholam himself. And thank Orholam that Liv had turned down that awful woman. Even if it was going to cost her dearly. Spying on the Prism himself? It was practically sacrilegious. As bad as Liv’s stupidity and awkwardness and horrifying sliver of infatuation was, how awful would it have been to be a traitor too? She swallowed. “I’m sorry, Lord Prism, I was out of—”

Gavin raised a hand and stood abruptly.

Liv glanced at the crystal but saw nothing. The crystal hadn’t changed. She looked over at Gavin in time to see the Prism blanch—then his face was lit up like the sun had just come out from behind the blackest clouds.

A wash of colors flashed through his skin and he threw out a hand toward the crystal. A crackling, shimmering tube of luxin shot from his hand and stuck to the crystal on the opposite wall like an iridescent spiderweb on fire. More and more gushed out of the man, pushing deep into the crystal.

And then, as abruptly as he started, Gavin stopped. A moment later, the crystal glowed a brilliant jade green, and then a less intense blue.

Gavin sighed with relief.

“What was that?” Liv asked.

“A secret!” Gavin barked. He gestured, and Liv felt a gust of cold wind and heard the windows drop heavily into their slots.

“Come here,” the Prism ordered. His body filled with every color in the rainbow and beyond. A rope of green luxin wrapped around a chain of yellow-infused blue ran from his hand. “Now, girl! I have to be there first to contain this, and he’s going to need you.”

In a daze, Liv hurried over to the Prism. She didn’t even know what he was talking about.

“Get on my back,” he said.

“What?”

“On my back, now! Hold on tight.”

She jumped on his back. His body was unnaturally hot from the sub-reds he was holding along with every other color. What was he doing? She looked at the chain he was holding again. Then he turned and faced the void outside his window. She squeaked and held on with a death grip.

“Nna tha igh!” the Prism said.

“What?” Liv asked, loosening her grip around his neck.

“Not that tight,” he growled.

Even as she apologized, bands of luxin whipped around her body, holding her tight against him. Gavin took a run toward the window and leapt.

Liv’s view, at first, was only of the luxin spooling out of Gavin’s hand like spider’s silk, perfectly matching the rate at which they were falling. She realized she had no idea how far exactly they would have to fall to get to the level of the Threshing Chamber, or how Gavin would know when to stop them. For that matter, how did he mean to get back into the tower from the outside? Hope someone left a window open?

Oh, dear Orholam!

They were falling an awfully long time. Liv’s eyes disobeyed her and jumped from the luxin above to the ground below. It was rushing up at them with incredible speed.

Then she was crushed into Gavin’s back as he solidified the rope. The pressure threatened to sweep her off of him and straight into the courtyard. They whipped around backward and she saw the rope-chain spooled out to the distant top of the Prism’s Tower, and the tower itself was looming bigger and bigger as as they swung back toward its sheer, unbroken face.

Three sharp jerks pushed her and Gavin backward, but with nowhere near enough force to slow them down. Briefly, Liv saw three missiles streaking out from Gavin’s outstretched left hand toward the tower in front of them.

She didn’t see what the missiles did, because whatever else they accomplished, with Gavin shooting them out of his left hand while his right held the rope, he absorbed the recoil with his left arm. So as soon as the missiles were out of his hand, Gavin and Liv were sent spinning sharply widdershins.

Glass and stone exploded on every side around Liv. She was sliding along a floor, zipping straight and smooth for a fraction of a second, abruptly cut away from the Prism. Then something caught the hem of her skirt. Her momentum and the friction with the floor yanked it up hard, and then her bare skin squeaked on naked stone. She flopped over sideways and rolled a few times. When she stopped against the wall, all she could think was that she couldn’t believe she was still alive.

There were half a dozen drafters in the suddenly breezy hallway, looking at the Prism and her in disbelief. The Prism was already up, giving sharp orders.

Why is my butt cold? Liv followed the drafters’ stares and looked down. Her skirt was bunched around her waist from the slide, exposing her to all the world. She squeaked, yanked her skirt down, and jumped to her feet.

“You, get Luxlord Black. Tell him I want this repaired. Today. Go immediately. You, take the names of everyone in this hall and everyone in the testing chamber,” the Prism was saying. Liv, seeing everyone’s attention was on the Prism, shifted her hips. She hadn’t noticed until after she jumped up, but her butt cheeks had been cold because her underclothes had been yanked up too. Now they were cleaving the moon in a serious way. She shimmied, trying to fix her underclothes without fishing after them with a hand. “Aliviana, what are you doing?” the Prism asked.

Liv froze, transfixed.

“Never mind, stay here. I’ll call for you in a moment.” Gavin opened the door to the testing chamber and slipped inside. All the drafters in the hall, including one of the best-looking young magisters in the whole Chromeria, Payam Navid, turned to look at Liv, obviously wondering why she was so important—and killing her chance to quickly tug her underclothes down. Not having any idea what she was going to find or what the Prism was going to expect of her, she smiled nervously at the young magister.

Chapter 45

Gavin moved quickly, hearing the old bichrome say, “Are you ready to see your colors?” to Kip.

“I know I am!” Gavin said. “Mistress Varidos, may I?” Family members of supplicants weren’t allowed in the testing chamber for fear that it would lead to cheating. The rule, at least theoretically, even applied to the Prism. There’s a reason theory and practice are two different words.