26. Infamy’s A Dish Served Cold
DESDEMONA
Istand across the counter from Eudora, sucking down another delicious dish she’s made with a meat I’ve never had and before yesterday would’ve never admitted to, when suddenly I can’t move. My torso is knitted together all the way up to my neck. Eudora looks at me, then behind me, and her green eyes glow.
I hear panicked chattering and something else. When I can move again, I turn around to see two Folk, one with a knife and both being held together by vines.
One of them electrocuted me, and the other was going to stab me.
“Get. Out. Of. My. Kitchen.” The vines tear away, and the kids run.
Her face is red, with exertion or anger, I don’t know.
“How long have you known?” I ask.
Eudora smiles at me, but it’s the kind of sad smile that I always fear will be coupled with pity. “No one from Utul is as hungry as you are.” She reaches over the table and pats my hand.
I go through the day with eyes on the back of my head. I knew the attacks would come, even without Leiholan’s warning. Still, I’ve never been so abruptly popular. Suddenly, everyone wants to fight me. A sore difference from when everyone avoided me.
Now they want to see if they can kill the septic scum.
Well, I have seven throwing blades strapped to my ribs and thighs, and I’m not afraid to plant one in someone’s skull if they so much as think of killing me.
But even with this new popularity, the one person whose avoidance is the most annoying is doing just that—seeing as she is my roommate. I don’t think Aralia would try to kill me, but sleep has eluded me lately and the dreams are still coming on strong, so I took the extra step of not sleeping last night.
After a thrilling hour of studying the gods—and if I don’t count the angry stares, no more attacks—I meet Aralia outside of her first-period class, like every day.
She doesn’t smile when she looks at me.
“Hey,” I say.
“Hey,” she says slowly. “I have to go see Mr. Bayley, so I’ll see you in class?”
“Yeah, sure,” I say, but I know she would’ve asked me to join her yesterday. She didn’t say much to me last night or this morning.
And she doesn’t say much to me in Elemental Magic either.
In combat class, Eleanora walks toward me, proclaiming abruptly that she can “take me.”
“Anyone could,” Jermoine says. “She’s septic.” He smirks and lifts an eyebrow at me.
“I wouldn’t piss her off.” Leiholan nods at me once, and I do just as we practiced. I turn to the back of the classroom with almost as much speed as a Nepenthe, unsheathing one of my daggers and letting it fly. Right into the eye of my target.
Eleanora rolls her eyes, but Jermoine narrows his and says, “Nice show. But what’s Leiholan got in your corner? Any reason he’s protecting you?”
“He’s no more than a pain in my ass. You? You’re gonna be a sack of burnt flesh if you take another step closer.” This time I smirk. Not that I could do that. They just have to think I can. Lucky for Leiholan’s plan, I’m a great liar.
“You’re not allowed to use magic in this class,” someone says from behind me.
I smile and even add a little laugh for the show.
“Watch me.” I don’t take my eyes off Jermoine. He’s double my size, could easily take me on the mat, and I have no business threatening him. But his shoulders drop ever so slightly, and I take it as defeat.
“Partner up!” Leiholan says. “We’ll resume challenges tomorrow.”
Yuki walks to me, and I try not to give him any of the attitude I’ve been feeling. He’s been nothing but cordial to me, and I doubt he knew what Lucian was going to do. We fight like usual, and one out of the seven rounds I land on top, with my blade to his throat.
And I’ve never been prouder.
I don’t like expecting attacks, but at least I’m prepared when I’m thrown across the room by wind in Elemental Magic the following day. Pinned against a wall with a backache I’ve already experienced, I try to take a step forward and the feeling of a thousand pins filling my calf sends me back.
Though it’s nowhere near as bad as when Hogan’s magic did the same to me on my first day here. The electrical barrier.
I spot the boy stalking toward me—Jermoine—and I’m not sure if he’s the Air Folk or the Light Folk. Unsheathing a blade, I say, “Take it down right now, or this goes in your skull.”
“I’d like to see you try.” He flares his teeth. Obviously, he didn’t heed the warning I displayed in combat class yesterday.
I send the blade toward his shoulder. He tries to move out of the way, but it makes its mark.
Six knives left, seeing as I’m sure I won’t be getting that one back.
“Bitch!” His hand reaches for the hilt, but he knows not to take it out. I can’t believe these are the kids they’re training to be the universe’s leaders.
I grab another blade. “Take. It. Down.” I tilt my head, just to look like a menace. “Or the next one’s going in an artery.”
He takes another step, and I lift my blade. “Breck!” he shouts. When I try to step forward again, I’m able to move and Jermoine runs. Presumably to find a healer.
I spot Aralia watching from the other end of the room, but when I look at her, she looks away. The same thing happens with Kai.
Ms. Abrams steps in front of me. Ms. Abrams who wasn’t replaced, like Kai offered. I wonder what happened. “You stabbed a student.” Her head tilts to the side.
“He attacked me.”
“This is Elemental Magic. Attacks are welcome. You should’ve countered with elemental magic.” She enunciates like I’m hard of hearing.
“Would you like me to burn a student to death? Or maybe the school?” I narrow my eyes on her. “Besides, I’m already failing, right? What more are you going to do?”
“You could’ve done something with your education here. It’s a… pity you chose to throw it away. Although, what more could we expect from the septic Folk?”
My jaw pops from my clench-unclench routine. “How about I burn you and show you just what you can expect from us septic Folk.” She’s taken aback. But I fill the gap. “That’s what I thought.”
“Threatening a teacher. You know what?—”
“What?” I lean in closer. “You’re gonna fail me? I’d rather be in the septic than in your face.”
Her head shakes, and she takes in an uneven breath. “Even when we give you people opportunities, you can never overcome your nature.”
“Guess not.” I step away from her and look at the class. “Anyone else wanna try me? I have six good blades left and a bit of anger to feed off of.” I turn around the class. “No?” I shake my head. “That’s what I thought.”
I sit down before anyone can see my shaking hands.
When class is over, I do something stupid—I catch up with Kai. If I need anyone on my side right now, it’s a prince. I don’t know what those boys were going to do to me in class, but I do know those girls from the kitchen were going to kill me.
“Hey!” I say with a smile and a buoyant tone.
“What?” he asks and picks up his pace.
“How are you?” I ask.
“What do you want from me?” He gives me a scornful look, no more than a second-long glance. Like I’m not even worth looking at.
“I—I don’t know. I just wanna talk.”
“Well, I don’t.” He keeps walking.
I reach for his arm, turning him to me, and I say, “Please?”
“You lied to me, Desdemona!”
“News flash, Kai! I lied to everyone!” I shout. “I had to.”
“No, you didn’t.” Kai turns away.
“What? If you knew I was from the septic, would I still be the good Folk to you?” I shout, shaking my head. “Do you really think I’d believe that? Even if it were the truth?”
“I don’t know.” He looks at me for a split second before averting his gaze. “But I also don’t care.”
Great. I knew I’d be hated for just being who I am—what I am. This still feels kind of absurd. Am I that different from them?
I guess I am. I mean, that’s what I’ve been telling myself from day one. I’m not pampered and polished. But they’re certainly not good. Not in the way they think they are.
They may be poised, but they’re not pleasant.
The first thing I do when I go back to my room is rifle through Aralia’s drawers until I find her stash. Then I smoke a joint, and I swear if anyone tries to break into my suite to kill me, I might actually burn this place to the ground.
When my head is a little fuzzy, I do the only rational thing I can think of. I throw my new knives at shit. I challenge myself with any little mark on the wall I can find, hitting almost all of them.
Seventeen holes in the walls later, I collapse to my bed. I want that dagger back that I sunk into Jermoine’s shoulder.
The door creaks open and I’m on my feet, wielding a knife behind the entrance in a second. It’s just Aralia. She walks in without even seeing me and ducks, grabbing something from under her bed. It’s only a book.
“Hey,” I say softly.
“Hey,” she says, frowning. “I have to get back to class.”
She passes me on her way to the door. “Are you serious?” I say while she reaches for the knob. She twists it, and I put my hand on top of hers. “Aralia!”
She takes a deep breath and tips her head back so she’s looking at the ceiling and not me. “What?”
“Can we talk?” I wait for her to say something, anything. When she doesn’t, indignation prickles through my body like the Folk’s electrical attacks. “Jermoine and Breck almost killed me today, and all you did was watch!”
She finally turns to me, both her hands lifted into fists at her ribs. “It’s not personal?—”
“He was going to kill me!” I’m pretty sure the entire wing can hear me now.
“No he wasn’t.” Aralia shakes her head. Like she has any reason to feel exasperated by this conversation.
“Are you kidding me?” She looks down, and I have to clench my fists to keep from strangling her. “You know that was the second time someone tried to attack me today? Call me paranoid, but they were both going for the kill. Jermoine will be fine, a healer will fix his pretty little shoulder and he’ll go about his day. But if they killed me, I’d just be dead. And no one here would give me a second thought.”
My hands start shaking again, and I shove them into my pockets, only to realize my throat is sore.
“It’s not personal,” she says again, with more emphasis on each word. “I’m the daughter of the head advisor of Lorucille. I can’t be seen with someone from the septic.”
“So if my life was in danger, you’d just watch?” I say, looking at the door. That’s the reality of the situation. I’m septic scum—and I’ll be treated as such. Even from someone who declared me her best friend less than a month ago.
I reach for the door knob and shove the door open while I eye her down. She ducks her head and walks out, holding the book she came to grab.
I slam the door on her back.
She doesn’t come back at the end of the school day, and I don’t care. I go to the kitchen to get dinner—beef with roasted red berries. Eudora asks how I’m doing, and I tell her I’m fine. Because I am. I still have a plan. I know where my mom is, and I’m gonna find out how to get there. Then I’m gonna get her and get home.
On my way back to the suite, I have a strange feeling that someone is watching me. I turn behind me and hear footsteps but see nothing. No one on the top floor either. I leave the dining hall, past the class hall, and turn toward the suites.
Someone steps in front of me. The first thing I notice is the long sword dangling toward the floor. There’s no way my little knife could fight that. Then I see the face.
Jermoine.
You’ve got to be kidding me.
I turn around and lookie here, there’s Breck. What a joke.
“Are you guys serious?” I say. It’s been a long day. “What, you’re gonna stab me?”
“That’s exactly what we’re going to do.” Jermoine steps closer.
Then he swings. I duck, and Breck’s sword comes straight down for me. I tumble out of its way—a full-on somersault—and get back to my feet. The second my hand is on the sheathe at my rib cage, Jermoine swings again, right for my wrist. I jump back, but he still draws blood.
He makes a sound like a “tsk” three times. “You won’t be doing that again.”
A thousand needles prick every inch of my skin, all at once. The hair on my arms sticks up and my body shakes vigorously, but I can’t stop it until I fall to the floor, stunned. They’re really going to kill me, aren’t they? These two assholes are going to best me.
What a joke. What a dumb way to die.
Breck steps over me, and it’s by sheer force of will that I push my attention to his pant leg.
Light, light, light.
Heat rushes through my body, up my stomach, down my arms, into my fingers.
He’s on fire, and I let out a small gasp of relief while he screams and slams his hand against his pant leg. Then I’m able to wiggle my fingers. The sensation of being able to feel my body moves up my arms and down my torso.
Jermoine brings his sword down toward my abdomen. I twist out of the way, but the blade still slices through the side of my stomach, and I gasp.
White fills my vision, and in seconds, the entire side of my shirt is sopping red.
I can barely see when Jermoine goes for my heart this time. I fold my legs in, pushing myself up the slick floor with all my strength. Then I get to my wobbly feet.
The right side of my body is uncomfortably slick with hot blood, but that’s nothing compared to the heat coursing through me, from the fire across the room or my body’s attempt to cauterize the gashing wound, I don’t know.
Only the whole cauterizing thing isn’t working, and I’m bleeding out fast.
“Why don’t you put down the sword and fight me like a gentleman?” My voice is rough, and when Jermoine smiles, I know he heard the strain. The weakness.
I unsheathe a dagger, fast, and ignore the blistering pain creeping up my body and the sweat that’s threatening to pour into my eyes. When Jermoine takes a step, I throw, aimed for his throat, but this time he’s out of the way right before it lands.
“Fool me once, am I right?” He laughs, and I’m shocked because I had no idea how cynical he was. He swings, I duck, grabbing a dagger and planting it deep in his thigh. The pain in my fist is nothing compared to my side when I punch his knee in and tear my burning wound open again.
I bite my tongue and try to get to my feet while Jermoine falls to his knees, only for me to fall again. Dizzy. Still, his sword comes down again for my head, and I’m about to die. Shit. I’m about to die.
I catch the sword in my hands. Before I can bite my tongue again, I scream. Maybe it’s more of a shriek.
The heat goes to my head like a drug.
Then it’s Jermoine screaming.
Silver covers my hands and it’s trickling down his sword too, coating his hands and forearms. The sword falls from my grasp and Jermoine falls to his back, crying out. Blood and thick silver liquid paint my palms. I look at the screaming boy, at his sword.
There’s no edge. No tip, nothing where my hands just were.
I melted his blade.
Breck is still on fire.
I get up and run. The pain from ripping open the wound my body is trying to cauterize is shattering through any rational thought with every step.
Palming a knife and sliding it up my long sleeve, I knock on the door to Lucian’s suite. Yuki opens it.
I walk right past him.
“He’s not here,” Azaire says, stepping out from an open door.
“What happened to you?” Yuki is looking at the blood seeping from my side.
I have to play it down. If I just give my body time to rest, it will cauterize itself. I think. “It’s not my blood,” I say.
“I think it’s still bleeding.”
Thank you, Yuki.
“It’s nothing. Where’s Lucian?” I ask Azaire. My voice is strained, cracking. I’m not doing a very good job at my only job.
Lying.
But Azaire’s answer is, “I’m sorry for what Lucian did.”
“What did Lucian do?” I keep my face still, not moving a muscle.
“Told everyone you were from the septic.”
I don’t wince. “What are you, his babysitter?”
“Sometimes, yeah.” Azaire shoves his hands in his pockets. “They try to teach us here to hate anyone from a septic, forgetting our worlds are the same kind of thing.”
“Right,” I say slowly.
Did I just step into some sort of alternate dimension? He’s the first person to try to console me, not that I need it. But him, a Nepenthe. I guess it’s only been the Folk who are treating me much differently.
Trying to kill me.
I’m still not sure I trust whatever this is.
“It’s why we’re not allowed to contact our homeworlds for the first year or two. They don’t wanna foster any sympathy here,” Yuki says with a smile, leaning back and resting his hands behind his head. I’ve watched him almost every day in Combat Training, and I don’t think I’ve ever heard him speak until tonight.
“Thanks,” I say, looking between the two of them and trying not to hold onto my side. I had no idea they weren’t allowed to contact their families. “But do you happen to know where Lucian is?”
“I don’t,” Azaire says, and Yuki shrugs.
“Okay.” I nod. “Thanks.” I’m turning around and walking out the door before I even have a chance to think.
I walk out of the boys’ wing and toward my suite, but I don’t want to go back there. I want to do something. Besides, I’m pretty sure Breck is still burning on that side of school. In a turn of events that must be sheer luck, Lucian walks toward me.
“Aibek!” I shout. The closer he gets, the more I can make out.
He’s covered in blood.
Well, so am I. But I don’t think it’s his.
He gives me a look that can only be described as wicked and I don’t let myself miss the days when he looked at me like I was… more.
I walk toward him and whisper, “You need to tell everyone, right now, that you were lying about me being from the septic.”
“That won’t change anything.” He shrugs. His entire jaw is badly burnt and his nose still looks broken. I’m glad I broke it. I want to break him.
Still, in his burn I see all the dying Fire Folk from the welders’ village.
I look up into his eyes. “Why not?”
“No one will believe it.”
“Say it was a social experiment. Or something.”
“No.”
In one quick movement, I shove him against the marble walls with all my strength and lift my dagger to his neck. “Tell them it was a lie, or I will slit your throat.” My eyes go wide with what I hope is perceived malice.
“Oh, how I’ve missed your daggers.” I’m infuriated that he sounds almost amused.
I hold the knife tighter, pressing into his neck and wondering if I could really kill someone again. The prince, no less, which would put me in a very tricky position. I already have enough problems on my hands. Then I think about the very real fact that I may have just killed two Folk again.
This is what it takes.
On top of all this riveting contemplation, the dagger is growing hot in my hands, so hot that I’m scared I am going to drop it. I feel that fire in my body, moving into my bones and blood. It’s not a feeling I like. It feels like power.
Like murder.
I kick Lucian’s knees and he falls to the floor, then I hold onto the dagger for dear life while I tip it to his neck.
“Do it or die, Aibek.”
“It would be a pity to die by blade,” he mocks me, and I swear I could do it.
I can do it.
“I’ll do it!”
He leans into me, pressing himself against the blade, and I even wince for him. “Burn me,” he whispers. Then he laughs. “You can do it, can’t you? It would be a shame to have spent all that time training to have you come out useless.”
His hand rises to my cheek, and I’m not sure if I’m about to lean into his touch or really go through with the whole slitting-his-throat thing.
But neither of those things happen when he grabs my wrist—his hand impossibly cold against my skin—and twists in an impossibly unnatural way. The dagger falls from my hand and I bite down against my teeth so hard I feel it in my temples.
Then I’m shoved to the wall, both my wrists being held over my head by only one of his hands. I look up to meet his eyes, then down when I can’t bear to see the malicious gaze.
He hates me.
That hate has me staring face to neck with a fresh burn mark the shape of my blade.
Something cold wraps around my legs—shadows. He’s pulled them from around us to subdue me. They’re our shadows he’s manipulating. At first, I struggle against his hold. Then I meet his eyes.
It doesn’t matter that his hands are on me in threat. There is still an all-too-palpable sensation to his touch.
He leans in so close to me that our noses touch. His eyes scan over my face, and I’m missing the days when my heart would hammer out of something other than the fear it’s pumping through my blood right now.
“Has anyone ever told you how cute you are when you’re angry? You’d almost be terrifying if it weren’t for your broken magic. Unless… that was an act? In which case,” he smiles, “I’d be happily burned by you.”
I scowl.
“No?” he says, still smiling. “Alright. If you tell me how to wake Lilac, I’ll do as you wish.”
I grind my teeth. “I don’t know what happened to Lilac.”
“Then I’ll leave you with one last farewell,” Lucian whispers in my ear. “When I unravel, you’re coming with me.”
An alarm, similar to the one that went off when I first arrived at the school, shrieks through the hall. For the moment that Lucian is distracted, I butt my head forward with as much momentum as I can muster, aiming for his throat. A good enough hit could get him to let me go. Just before I make contact, his shadows pull my head back, hard, and his eyes are looking down at me again.
“Was it you?” I feel violated by his gaze. Like he knows something he shouldn’t.
“Was what me?” I seethe.
“The fire alarm.” He cocks his head to the side and my face grows immediately warm. I’m burning down the school, aren’t I?
He lets go of my wrists and picks up my dropped dagger. “Interesting.” He hands me the weapon. The hilt is melted to the shape of my closed palm. “I’ll only clean up your messes for so long.”
Lucian gives me another glance, and I swear I see his eyes flare when they hover over the wound at my side.
His voice is deep, a rumble, when he says, “Who did this to you?”
My voice is breathy, a whisper, when I answer, “It’s not my blood.”
When one of his hands reaches toward the wound at my side, I catch his wrist. The eye contact between us is too heavy, making it hard for me to choke out, “It’s. Not. My. Blood.”
“And I’m not ignorant. Who did this to you?”
His wrist is in my hand, and he makes no effort to revoke my grip. His eyes are on mine, and there is no choice for me to take mine off of his.
He is everything wrong with the worlds. He’s everything wrong in mine.
It’s with that in mind that I find the strength to say, “You did.”
Something in his face falters, fractures, then falls. My grip on his wrist softens, and I am not sure if it is my doing or his.
Then he walks away, disappearing into the shadows that line the hall. Becoming them.
* * *
In the spirit of not going back to my suite, I go to the training room to throw more knives at shit. But when I walk in, I see a passed-out Leiholan in the corner of the room. I grab the bottle of vesi in his hand and he wakes up with a kick.
He pulls a knife from his boot and brings it to my throat in a movement so quick it was nothing but a blur. I have to admit, being on the other end of this isn’t fun.
“It’s just me,” I say.
Leiholan opens his eyes, then squints them toward the bottle. “Whatchu got vesi for?”
“It’s yours.” I take a long sip.
He swipes the bottle from my hand and drops his knife in one movement. “Then get your own.”
I sit next to him, leaning against the wall, and drop my head in my hands. A second later, I feel the bottle tap my shoulder and look up. I grab it from him, offer a smile, and take a long chug, then I hand it back. We go on like this for a while, passing the bottle back and forth in utter silence until the room spins.
“What’s your problem?” He burps.
“I seem to be a harbinger of chaos today.” The words feel numb on my tongue while I stare aimlessly at the target across the room and all the stabs I’ve made. “What about you?” He looks over his shoulder at me, the movement reminding me of a snake. “You drink over something, don’t you?”
“No.” He shakes his head. “We’re not having this conversation.”
“I wanna know.” A bitter laugh escapes me. “You’re kind of the only person I have left in my life.”
“Kind of?” he says flatly.
“You’re the only person I have left.” A Nepenthe. Who’s actually not that bad. He smiles, and his fangs make me rethink that last droozen sentiment.
The almost empty bottle comes back to me, and I take another long sip. I don’t know how he drinks so much of this stuff. It doesn’t burn like rena, but everything is…
“Thank you,” my words sound groggy, but I don’t know if they came out that way or if it’s just my brain that’s groggy.
Leiholan laughs. “I didn’t know those words were in your vocabulary.”
I sluggishly shove my shoulder into his bicep. Then I drain the bottle. My hands are still covered in metal and blood, and they look bigger through the glass. I’m thankful Leiholan didn’t push for an answer, because I don’t know how I would’ve told him that I think I killed two boys tonight.
Five. That’s the number of people in Damien’s family. I’ve killed the equivalent of Damien’s family.
With how far away I am, it’s almost like I could’ve killed them.
I try again to get one last sip from the bottle of vesi, and even though my throat is sore, it’s certainly not from the alcohol.
Unexpected tears slide down my cheeks. Three tears turn to ten, and those ten turn to sobs that rack my body so thoroughly I can barely breathe between them.
“Come here, kiddo,” Leiholan says gently, wrapping an arm around me and pulling me into a hug.
I think this is the first time I’ve ever wanted to fall apart in someone’s arms.