24. Hole Hearted
DESDEMONA
Can fire kill me if I’m underwater? That’s the question, and it’s followed by the thought that maybe a higher class of education would be more useful than I thought. They probably learned the answer to this ludicrous question at Acansa in their first year.
The fire starts to spread across the top of the water. In turn my ears pop and burn as I swim deeper, but I don’t stop. When I do finally look up, I see no light. I wait another blistering moment before I swim toward the surface. No fire.
Lucian is the one I see when I can breathe again. There’s an unfathomable pang in my chest when I take him in. Not only are the bags under his eyes black, but so are his irises where they are usually midnight blue. His hair is a mess and his jaw is filled with scruff, though that’s the only part of his new look that suits him, even though it hides the lower half of his incredible features.
It’s only a few seconds of eye contact before he looks away from me and toward Kai, who’s standing multiple feet away from him and also glaring. Headmistress Constance is in front of them both, staring at me with the opposite emotion the two boys wear. Where they scorn, she admires, offering me her hand and pulling me from the water.
“Very fair, dear,” she says.
“What?” I ask, my core is shaking, and I can’t hide it.
“You survived. Not many in your shoes would have.” She takes off her dressy coat, lined with a soft and shiny blue fabric, and wraps it around my shivering body. “In the end, it’s astuteness that keeps us breathing.”
Keep your wits about you.
The headmistress leans into me and whispers, “Especially for a girl with your upbringing.”
Right.
Lucian is walking back to the school before I can even consider catching him.
Kai walks next to me until we make it inside, and when we do, Lucian is gone. “I can take her to her suite,” Kai offers the headmistress, who smiles at me. I wonder if she is thinking what I’m thinking—a girl from the septic has managed to not just get one, but two prince’s help. I wonder if she is in awe or disgusted.
When she is out of sight, Kai clears his throat. “I don’t know how to adequately apologize.”
“Apologize?” I echo, but he doesn’t say anything. Not until we make it into the suite.
His eyes race through the common room before he whispers, “I could’ve gotten you killed.”
“It was my magic, not yours.” I try to smile for his sake, but it doesn’t work out in my favor.
“Magic you wouldn’t have used if I hadn’t…”
I break in quickly, saying, “It was a lesson in survival for me. I should thank you.” Really, I just want him to leave so I can lay down and stop thinking about the potential I have in killing myself.
He clearly doesn’t accept my thanks when he says, “I apologize, Desdemona.”
The formality of his words isn’t one I like. I mimic it when I say, “I accept your apology, Prince Kai—” I cut the words off short. “If you’ll answer another question.”
“Anything.” He nods.
I keep my voice quiet. “What do you know about the void?”
His eyes go wide. Shit. At least I didn’t say Arcanes. “What do you know?”
“Nothing, really.” That’s the problem.
“Is anyone here?” He looks over my shoulder.
“There shouldn’t be, no.”
After scanning through the room, he says, “Supposedly, there were these creatures that fought during the Arcanian War. In the aftermath of the ruin, they left Elysia.” His soft brown eyes meet mine. “It’s a presumption, and I wouldn’t advise you bring it up again.”
Shit. “I won’t.” He nods his head, his lips pressed tightly together. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”
Kai takes a step back. “Yes.” Then he’s out the door.
Shit. Shit!
Where is Lucian?
I wait until Kai is long gone, then I go to Lucian’s suite, where I refrain from barging in and instead knock at the door.
Azaire has a lovely greeting. “He’s not?—”
“I need to talk to him,” I say, stepping past Azaire. “Which door is his?”
“Look—”
“Aibek?” I call, opening doors one by one, being greeted by the empty rooms.
“Desdemona.” Azaire puts his hand on the next doorknob before I can. Must be Lucian’s. “Stop.”
I face him. “Shouldn’t you be in class?”
“Shouldn’t you?” he says with a soft tone and subtle shrug.
“Do you know?” I mean, he’s the boy who made the kingdom less lonely. They’re close, that much is obvious. “Has he told you what’s really happening?” I demand.
Azaire shakes his head no, but he says, “Yes.”
I can’t help but laugh. “Brilliant.” I pull my hands through my wet hair. “Just brilliant. Aibek!” I pound on the door.
Lucian opens it with a bottle in his hand, smiling.
“We need to talk,” I say, but this sight has me feeling like I’ve lost the high ground I was just standing on.
“Do we?” he says like it’s humorous.
I step closer, into his space. “Yes.”
He stretches out his arms, knocking my shoulder with the glass bottle and chuckling. I step into the room entirely and close the door on Azaire. It takes me way too long to muster the courage to say, “I need your help.”
“You need me?” He sips his alcohol. “How endearing.”
“It’s not supposed to be endearing!” I whisper, “You know I can’t find my mom without you.”
“I see.” He nods his head while he takes another sip. “Within all the time I spent waiting for you to tell me you need me, this partnership has turned stale.”
He drops the bottle, fakes a frown, and turns away from me, walking to the door, no doubt to open it and kick me out. I grab his wrist. “Please.”
He looks down at me. “Another thing I was waiting for. Should’ve made a bucket list.”
“You wanted me to plead?”
“No,” he shrugs. “I wanted to see how long it would take you to learn basic manners.”
I let go of his wrist and take a step back. “What’s going on with you?”
“What’s going on with me?” He laughs.
“Yes! What is going on with you?” I shout.
“My sister is in a coma!” he shouts back. “And you,” he points at my chest but doesn’t make contact, “how long have you been lying to me?”
Oh shit. “What?” I say, try to laugh a little, make it seem like what he’s just said is the most outrageous thing I’ve heard. “I’ve never lied to you.”
“On the day we first tracked your mother?” he offers.
“Besides that day, never!”
“Okay,” he slurs. “Then tell me the truth and I’ll believe you. Tell me who you are, and I’ll stand beside you.”
I’m Desdemona Althenia. I’ve been running my entire life. I’ve never once told someone who I am.
I’m from the septic. I’ve murdered three. A few more in my dreams.
When the moonaro came close, the whispering that I told you are migraines became louder than they ever have.
And then I lied, because I’m a liar too.
I don’t know how to show myself.
I don’t know how to handle being seen, because there’s this part of me that swears to the gods, that once I am, I’ll lose everything again. Because that’s how my life goes.
I’ve never once gotten to keep something.
But being alive means being unknown, and despite my feelings against it, this is the single most important person to keep at arm’s length. So I look him in the eye and instead, I say, “I’m exactly who you think I am.”
Lucian scoffs. “You know,” he sighs, “your left hand clenches when you lie.”
Does it really?
“Does not.”
“Does.”
I step back. “And how exactly did you figure this out, Aibek?”
His entire face stiffens. “Because I happened to enjoy looking at you.”
“Happened?” I echo.
“Happened,” he confirms.
“So this?” I point between us. “This is over?”
“Long over.”
I reach for the door and slam it behind me.
Stepping into Aralia’s room, I see a lump in her bed and remember it’s just my sulky roommate. Joining her in the sulking, I lay in bed and pull the covers over my head. It gets stuffy beneath the surface too quickly, and I pull it off.
Then I do something stupid.
“Aralia?” I ask.
She pulls her cover off from over her head. Her black hair is an untamed mess sticking out in every direction. Her lips a scowl.
“Are you okay?” I haven’t tried to talk to her much other than during the first days.
Turning away from me, she says, “No.”
I wince when I say, “Do you want to talk?” But I wince even more at the sudden emotion that fills me—how much I hope she will say yes. I must be desperate for a distraction. “I miss you,” I add. I wonder if it sounds convincing. “And I almost died today.”
She looks at me, fidgeting beneath her cover. Then she just stares, for a long, long time. Until, finally, she says, “I can’t stop thinking about what will happen if Lilac doesn’t make it.”
“I didn’t know you two were friends,” I say.
“We were best friends.” She fidgets more before she says, “When Calista and I got back from Acansa, a lot changed. Before that, it was always the three of us.”
“The three of you?” I ask.
“Calista, Lilac, and I.”
I’m shocked, but I don’t know why. Her parents are the head advisors to the king and queen. She grew up in the kingdom, with Calista. She is practically Royalty adjacent.
I am surrounded by people who’d hate me if they knew the truth.
It’s a good thing I’m a liar.
“Calista was the first to drop us. It was just Lilac and me for most of the year, until I did exactly what Calista did to us.” Tears build in her eyes. “And what Calista did still hurts me. And Lilac went through that twice.” After a pause, she says, “And I miss her.”
Oh. It’s not grief. It’s guilt. “I’ll start checking on her for you,” I say, thinking of my mom and how the image of her bloody and bruised fills my mind every time I close my eyes. “So you don’t have to see her like that.”
“Thank you.” Aralia catches a tear from her cheek and sniffles. “How’d you almost die today?”
“Oh,” I turn over to lay on my back, “the Flame.”
“Oh,” her voice cracks.
“Yeah,” I sigh. “Oh.”
When the ceiling gets boring and my thoughts get repetitive, I say, “You know, you’re the only one here who’s taken an interest in being friends with me. Everyone else looks at me with either fear or pity.” Take your pick.
I’m more likely to self-combust than graduate. The truth is actually petrifying.
I look away from the ceiling to find her looking at the window between our beds. “My dad was a Fire Folk.” Was. That’s what she looks at when she stares at the window. The pictures on the sill. “I don’t think you deserve to be ignored because you have a power that’s difficult to maintain.”
“I appreciate it,” I say.
“It’s not a big deal, truly. Besides, you’re kind of my best friend at this point.”
“Best friend?” That could work out well for me. “Yeah, you too,” I mumble. To change topics before I get caught in my white lie, I say, “How well do you know Kai?”
“I grew up with him,” Aralia says. “Why?”
“I think he’s into me.”
“Careful with those Royal kids,” she says with a small hint of the sarcasm she once exuded. “I only have a fraction of their fucked-uped-ness, and I can tell you, it’s a lot.”
“Noted,” I say.
“Plus, his real name is Malakai,” she says, and I can certainly hear her smile.
I smile too.
I start checking on Lilac every day and giving updates to Aralia. She looks better each day, and a week later when a healer changes the padding that covers the wound, she takes me into account.
“I see you here a lot,” the woman with green eyes and white scrubs says while she wraps the bandage around Lilac’s torso. “Are you a friend?”
“We have a mutual friend,” I answer. “I check on Lilac for her.”
The woman smiles, her lips widening. “That’s sweet.”
I won’t lose this opportunity to ask, “Do you know what happened to her?”
“Based on the traces of magic we found in the wound, we know the corenth that attacked her is from Soma.”
She finishes bandaging Lilac, and I work hard not to swallow my heart. A corenth from Soma attacked the princess, and I know for certain that a moonaro was here. The princess’s brother knows too.
“Thank you,” I say and mumble a goodbye to the unconscious girl before I leave the infirmary.
Screwed. I’m screwed. Lucian must know that the creature that attacked Lilac didn’t attack me. I have to watch my back. Would he kill me? I can’t think of any reason why he wouldn’t. He hates me now, maybe even did the whole time. I mean, he only ever kept me around because of my mom, and I made the foolish mistake of thinking a prince could see anything more than the scum in me.
Another week passes, and I still haven’t seen Lucian. The paranoia of what he might do has put me into a frenzy. I’m not sleeping well, not that I ever was, but certainly worse than before. I keep one eye open at all times, petrified of his retribution.
In training, when Leiholan knocks the spatha out of my hand again, I say, “I can’t do this.” I know that getting better at fighting is exactly what I should do for my situation, but I can’t keep my eyes open or my back straight or my thoughts from going to the inevitability of what Lucian will do the next time I see him.
“More vesi for me.” Leiholan smiles.
Everything feels like a dead end these days, with no way to save my mom and a prince who has every reason to kill me when he finally comes back to school.
Another three days pass and Leiholan tells the class that we will be doing hand-to-hand combat. Lately, our chats and “training” have been going nowhere. Basically, he gets annoyed with me quicker than usual and I tell him to shove his vesi up his ass. It’s no fun, but it’s the most human interaction I’ve had these past weeks, apart from Kai. At least I don’t have to constantly be putting on a show for Leiholan.
“You are allowed three daggers on your person. You drop ‘em, you lose ‘em,” he says to the class, slurring his words. I perk up when he says, “Desdemona, you’re with Yuki.”
This is my first challenge.
Yuki meets me on the mat, and I’m anything but hopeful. This is Lucian’s partner—I’ve watched them train together hundreds of times. What if Lucian asked for this and Leiholan is setting me up?
This anxiety only worsens when Leiholan keeps pairing me with Yuki for the next few days.
That unwavering fear finally comes true two days later when Lucian shows up in Combat Training. I ignore him and he ignores me, and I can’t help but feel like we’re worse than we were at the start.
Leiholan calls Yuki’s and my name together again. I watch Lucian while he talks to Yuki. I’d be dumb to think he wasn’t planning something. Maybe he’s trying to convince Yuki to do his dirty work for him on the sparring mat today. It’s not like stabbing your opponent is against any rule. I try to ignore that heavy beating of my heart.
But it’s not Yuki who meets me on the mat. It’s Lucian. I decide to use the adrenaline to my advantage—to help my odds in this game of survival. Because if I know one thing, Lucian has a plan at play here, which means I have to have one too: stay alive at all costs.
I punch first, right for his face. Lucian is out of the way of impact with his forearm up before it lands. I punch to his defenseless side. He blocks. I kick at his chest. He blocks. Lucian’s fist comes for my face and I swing my own arm up before punching twice. He blocks them both, but not the kick that I send to his stomach.
Lucian comes back fast and traps my bicep in his arm, punching me twice in the side. I push my knee into his gut with all the force I can muster, then aim for his throat. He spits blood and stalks closer. I punch again, he ducks, and then I fall on my face. The impact of his blow to my shins works its way through my body in waves before I’m able to pull myself up. His foot comes for my nose. I roll out of the way and get to my feet, the room spinning.
One punch for my face, but he hits my forearm and pain spirals up into my shoulder. One punch for my gut and I fall to the floor again. This time I kick his shins, but he doesn’t fall.
Before I stand, I have a dagger in my hand. He punches my wrist just before I throw the blade. I pull out another dagger and swipe upward, from his torso to his neck, but I only nick his shirt.
I go in to stab him and he catches my wrist, twisting it down and around, spinning me until my back is to him and both my hands are in his. I stand on the tips of my toes and smash my head back as hard as I can. I hear a crack, and despite the specks of light filling my vision, I pull myself out of his grasp. His nose is gushing blood and twisted further to the left than it usually is.
I kick him once, twice, but he blocks the third and pulls my leg up, sending me to my back. Then he’s on top of me, straddling my waist with his legs, holding both my arms above my head with only one of his own while his other hand holds a knife to my throat. He leans in closer, and his dark hair dangles over my eyes.
I’m dead.
“Tell me what you did to Lilac,” he whispers.
“Nothing,” I choke against his blade.
He pushes the dagger further into my throat, no doubt drawing blood in the most obvious spot—the hardest place to hide my cauterizing wound.
“I’ll put it this way—tell me, or I’ll tell them.”
“Tell you what?” I spit.
Then he relents, standing up in triumph.
He didn’t kill me. I’m amazed, and I’m worried. What’s next?
“Everyone,” his voice echoes through the room with sheer power. I stand, ignoring the pain rippling through every inch of my body and the blinding white lights filling the room. “Desdemona here has been lying to you all for some time now.” The whole class has their weapons down, all staring at him, waiting for what he has to say. I’m waiting too.
He looks down at me and I look up at him. I scowl. His eyes are on me, but his voice is loud and clear when he says, “She’s from the septic.”
No. How could he know? I want to take his head and hold it under the lake until he no longer breathes. I want to take this dagger and put it through his throat. I want to… I want to…
Everyone is looking. Everyone knows.
I want to run from this room full of spoiled brats staring at me like I’m crazy. But I can’t move my legs. I can’t breathe either. I can’t do anything. Frozen, I am frozen. They all know. Everyone in this room knows who I am now. And everyone out of this room will know who I am soon. They know, they know, they know. They have my weakness when I want theirs.
A hand wraps around the top of my arm, and I am moving down the hall now. My body falls to the cold floor, and I feel like a rag doll. Cold water splashes on my face once. Twice.
“Stop it,” I say to no one in particular. I don’t know who’s doing this.
“You’re burning up, sweetheart.”
It’s Leiholan and his sweetly impersonal voice. He dragged me from the class. He helped me.
I try to focus on him, but the room is fading fast. Yeah, I am burning up. I can’t believe they know who I am. I can’t believe he knew who I was this whole time. Thinking about their faces, thinking about his face, staring down at me while he told the world that I’m septic, takes the air from my lungs. The composure from my being.
What else does he know?
“You can calm down,” Leiholan says, his voice soft, and I listen to him, suddenly unsure as to why I was getting so worked up in the first place.
Then I realize what he did.
“Don’t use that shit on me,” I huff and throw my weak fist up at him as hard as I can manage. He catches it with ease. Nepenthe and their ability to soothe their prey. At least he won’t use it just to kill me, like so many of the others.
I think.
“It was that or let you burn down the building,” he says casually and sits next to me, patting my knee like I’m a child.
I turn to face him. “Why did you help me?”
“Been in your shoes.” He tries to smile at me, at least I think he does, because it falls severely flat. Then he whispers, “You’re not doing a very good job at being likable.”
“Yeah, well, no one was gonna like me anyways,” I grumble.
“Especially not now,” he chuckles.
“You’re not helping.”
“I’m sorry, I forgot that was my job description. Help Desdemona.”
I glare at him. Then drop my head in my hands. “What am I gonna do?”
“About your utter lack of charm or the students knowing you’re a septic bum?” he asks me with a smile.
“The latter,” I say. “They’re gonna hate me.”
Leiholan leans in and whispers, “They already do.”
My palm connects with his shoulder, and I push him back. “Then they’re gonna hate me more.”
“Good,” he says with a small shrug.
“Good?” I stare at him while I’m slumped against the wall, half lifeless.
“You’re not good at being liked. We’ll make you formidable.” The idea excites me a little more than I think it would excite a normal Folk. “Still, you’ll need to be careful. No one is going to care if you die. The law isn’t here for you, the staff won’t be here for you, and the kids are gonna be out to get you. Got it?” The way he speaks is intense, growing in emotion with every word. Like he… cares. Why would he care?
“Hence making me formidable?” I say like a question, but we both know it’s not.
“Exactly,” Leiholan says with a small smile—different from the others in terms of sincerity—that I’m sure is only for my benefit. I probably look like a mess.
“Could you do me a favor?” I ask with a small smirk, and the simple gesture of it all makes me feel marginally better.
“Depends,” he grumbles.
If formidable is what I’m gonna be, then there is something I’m going to need.
“Can you get me some throwing knives?”