Chapter Thirty-Nine: Armory

“How’d you do it?”

Kilvic turned to Ariadne and did his best not to frown. Most of the expressions he’d trained most of his life were slowly becoming habits. He could school them, but there were occasions such as this when they surfaced of their own accord. He’d lost count of how many times she’d asked. She at least had the decency to ask it in subtlety. First she’d gone about it as if out of combat curiosity. Then she’d moved on to the curiosity of the defeated. She’d tried other methods too. Not anymore.

“Do what, Ariadne?” he asked.

“That last spell.”

“It was a simple wind spell.”

“I didn’t hear you cast.” Ariadne frowned. “No. You didn’t chant, did you?”

Kilvic turned his attention away from his project. In his hand was a single staff, on the other was a knife. The winter hall fest consisted of a variety of challe