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Her eyes flashed. “Cora.”
“Punch yourself in the face,” Cora ordered. “Hard.”
The last thing I saw was my fist flying at my nose.
“VANDA? VANDA.” SOMETHINGpoked me in the side. “Wake up, novice.”
I blinked blearily, squinting at the blurry figure leaning over me. “Wha...?”
“What indeed. What are you, a Sisyphean, doing picking fights with Titans? I’ve never met a masochist outside the bedroom.”
I gaped at him. Only those words could’ve distracted me from the blinding pain in my face. “Sir! I’m pretty sure you’re not allowed to say that to students.”
“Aren’t I?” Chuckling, he sat me up and dusted me off. “Who says?”
“I... um... the handbook.”
“If you say so. Something else it says is for people likeyouto not go making enemies with people likethem.”
My group was going down the line, facing off with Proficient Catherine. They went on training while I lay unconscious on the ground.
“Fuck them,” I dropped, startling another laugh out of Kazran. “Bullies suck.”
“But that’s what this place is all about, Sisyphean.” His smile caught me off guard. “What is a monster, if not a bully.”
“Hmm. I guess that’s true. If I can’t face up to bullies like Sirena and the handmaidens, how will I ever defeat the things that go bump in the night?”
“I couldn’t say. I don’t understand the reference.”
Of course he didn’t, but his point remained. If I was going to go around picking fights, I’d better win them. How else did Ihope to save my mom from a trap that claimed the minds and lives of everyone else who tried before me?
“Sir, can I ask you something?”
“I’m not a son of any of the healing gods. You’ll have to see Healer Helena.”
“No, not that.” Although talking about it did make my nose throb harder. “I read a, uh, poem last night, and I didn’t fully understand it. If I said the weaver, the deceiver, and the believer, what would that make you think of?”
Kazran frowned. “What does this have to do with anything?”
“Just something I’ll be thinking about on my way to the infirmary because I got hurt after you stuck me in an all-Titan group even though we’re supposed to be kept apart.”
The corner of his lips climbed as high as his brow. “Are you scolding me, Novice Vanda?” The thick amusement in his voice said what he thought of that.
“Not scolding, just asking for your opinion. You owe me after mentally scarring me with visions into your sex life.”
He snorted. “You’re hardly scarred. Sweet little bowl of ambrosia like you, you’ll fend off potential lovers harder than you’ll ever fight off monsters.”
My cheeks caught fire and I burst into flames. I was nothing but ash on the wind, being carried back to my world where an instructor would never in a million years call mehot.
“But I’ll answer your question,” he breezed on. “Let’s see. The weaver, the deceiver, and the believer. Was the poet speaking of three different people, or one person who embodied all three?”
“I... I don’t know.” I blinked at him. “I didn’t even think of that until you said it. It could be about one person.”
“Either way, it makes me think of lies. A deceiver weaves lies like a tapestry, and the key to those lies being believed is for the deceiver to live, breathe, and believe in them himself.”
I bobbed along, nodding hard. “That makes sense. Is there a famous figure in Greek history who weaved lies like that? Or maybe a god?”
“There is a god of lies.”
