Chapter Twenty-Five #2
A chill skitters down my spine, erecting the hairs on my arms to a point.
Surely it couldn’t be the same Diviner…right?
I mean, Casimir Vivaldri lived centuries ago.
I’ve never been as skilled with history as Gray, but if my memory serves correctly, four-hundred-some-years is a long time for a Diviner to exist.
And as another interlocking fragment lays itself flat against the puzzle unfolding in my mind, my heart picks up speed in my chest.
Did you know, girl, that someday, a child will come—defined by a name both two and one—born from the ashes of a great love, whose untamed power can raise or crumble kingdoms.
I hadn’t thought much of the information. So much happened in Foreigner’s Valley, it all felt overshadowed. Yet what Casimir wrote…
I could be stretching. My mind may just be spooked and tying strings together that don’t belong. But the voice’s cryptic words sound an awful lot like words that would be uttered in a prophecy. What if it isn't a coincidence? The mention of the Diviner, the voice’s choice of words.
The words Sterling said to me the night before I left the Rivara Kingdom echo in my mind next.
I want you to read that journal in your lap. I suspect you’ll find important answers in doing so.
That’s another thing I never gave much thought to because of how quickly everything happened.
Why did my mother want Sterling to recover this journal, and why did Sterling think it belonged with me?
What purpose—besides inciting major trust issues regarding the credibility of recorded history—does it serve for me? Unless…
The wooden door to the balcony groans, and I slam the journal shut and swivel off the flat railing, jumping to my feet. My brows furrow deeply at the person I see.
“You.” It sounds like part question, part accusation.
Draven folds his arms and tilts his head. “Funny. I remember saying something similar to you when we met.”
Ignoring him, I press, “What are you doing here?”
He strolls toward me and leans against the railing. It makes him look so casual—so much younger. He can’t be more than twenty-four or twenty-five. “It’s my job to know who wanders Bathara’s grounds at night.” With an arched brow, he pointedly adds, “And you are no exception.”
“Never said I was,” I grumble back.
“What are you doing out this late?” He pauses, and I catch the tiny twitch at the corner of his mouth. “Better yet, what’s that you’re hiding from me behind your back?”
My mouth pops open, and a tiny scoff escapes from my parted lips.
How the hell did he know I had something behind my back? I even angled my body when he approached to remain inconspicuous.
“It’s nothing,” I lie.
His brows do a little jump. “Oh,” he patronizes through a mocking smirk. “You and I both know that isn’t true.”
Gods, he really is an infuriating bastard.
I heave a sigh and roll my eyes. Ultimately, however, I pull my hands forward, revealing the journal.
He tilts his head, a frown pulling on his lips. “What is that?”
A wrinkle forms in my brow. “It’s a journal,” I reply in a flat voice.
“Yours?”
My eyes narrow on him. “Does it matter whose journal it is? You asked what it is, not who it belongs to.”
He blows out a breath that almost sounds like a laugh—almost. “Fair enough.” Draven cocks his head and observes me. “What do you plan to do about your first test?”
I prop myself back up onto the railing, setting the journal down in my lap and tilting my head back to look at the stars. “To be honest,” I murmur, “I haven’t the slightest clue. But losing is not an option, so I guess I plan to do whatever it takes to win.”
Outside of Gray, and as strange as it is to consider, Draven knows the most about my situation. About what I stand to lose and gain—the truth about my magic capabilities. Perhaps that is why I answer him with full honesty.
He hums—the sound deep and almost enchanting. “Being able to attune your magic properly is already not an easy task. Attuning it to an essence flower is an even more difficult one. ”
I glance at him with a pointed expression. “Gee,” I drone flatly. “Was that supposed to make me feel hopeless or helpless?”
“Neither,” he assures me. “It was merely a fact.”
“A depressing one,” I mumble. “Especially given my circumstances.”
Draven glances up at me the same moment I flick my eyes down toward him. His left eye is the heterochromatic one, and there’s something hypnotic about the way the blues and greens mingle together, appearing almost fused by the small fissure branching from his pupil.
He does not pull his entrancing gaze away from me as he says, “Exactly. Which is why you need me to train you if you’re going to survive.”
I reflexively jerk back and blink. “What?”
He glides a hand along his sharp jaw before re-tucking it under his arm. “I’ve thought about it, and you need my help. Both for protection and instruction. Me training you can kill both those birds with one stone.”
I don’t think I’m hearing him correctly. “Wait, what?”
He lifts a dark brow. “Did you hit your head recently? It seems incapable of processing things at the moment.”
That snaps me out of it.
I click my tongue at him and quip, “My head is very capable of thought, thank you very much. I’m just confused why you think I’m in need of your protection or your training.”
“Hmm,” he begins, rubbing his fingers across the top of his considerably defined lips.
“Well, it certainly has nothing to do with the band of Abdites trying to kidnap you. Nor the exam you’ve enrolled yourself in, which requires considerable mastery over one’s magic and a high level of precision to execute each test well enough to be considered worthy of progressing.
” Draven mocks a shrug. “Yeah, I can see what you mean now. There’s nothing implying you need me or my talents. ”
“Your sarcasm is a delightful quality,” I mumble dryly. A brief pause, then I arch a brow at him. “Talents? Really?”
“Yes, talents,” he defends. “I have many of them.”
“I’m sure you do,” I mutter under my breath.
“Oh, I do.” And there is a particular undertone there I don’t even want to think about. He blows out an irritated sigh. “You have an interesting way of showing gratitude, do you know that?”
A wry smirk tugs at my lips. “Some may say it’s my most delightful quality.”
“Charming,” he retorts flatly.
Despite myself, I laugh.
Through my peripheral, I see Draven slightly lift his chin to study me. Though his expression remains unreadable.
“There’s a rule against captains helping examinees during the exams,” he informs me.
“If I am going to train you, there will have to be good cause for the other captains to go along with it.” He shifts his weight forward and turns his body so he is looking outward over the rolling hills, bringing us face-to-face.
Draven braces himself against the railing, flicking his eyes up to the star-coated sky.
His features almost seem to soften at what he sees.
“What if you just told them about the Abdite attack?”
He shakes his head. “That poses too many problems. One, not all of them know the details of the scouting mission we were on. Kiran was telling the truth when he said it was an undisclosed mission. Second, admitting Abdites are after you raises too many questions, and during these exams, the last thing you want is to be scrutinized under a watchful gaze.”
“Careful,” I joke through a soft laugh. “Say any more, and I might think you actually care about what happens to me.”
He slides his eyes to mine and tilts his head. I realize then how close our faces actually are. “And what makes you think I don’t?”
I arch a challenging brow. “Do you?”
The corner of his lip twitches. “No,” he says, the words far gentler than I expect. “Not particularly. But that doesn’t mean I want to see you dead, either.”
I rest my chin in the palm of my hand. “The cold, stoic scout has a beating heart after all.”
He drops his arms from the railing and leans back, his lips slightly parted. “You know, I am a captain over one of Bathara’s renowned aggregates, not a scout.”
I shrug. “I think I liked you more when I met you as a scout.”
Okay, this time that is definitely a laugh blowing past Draven’s lips. “Be that as it may, you need training and quick. Specifically, my training. I’ll figure out a way to make it happen.”
My brows twitch in tune to my passing thought. “Why help me?” I ask him. “What’s in it for you?”
Now his smirk is unmistakable. “I’m sure I’ll think of a way you can repay me.”
“Ah, there it is.” I exhale a loud sigh. “And here I was, beginning to think we were actually becoming friends.”
“I don’t have friends.”
“Because you don’t want them or because you’re incapable of making them?”
Draven’s response comes in the silent form of an arched brow and pointed stare.
I huff a clipped laugh. “I’ll warn you now—I have very little I can offer you.” My word choice unnerves me, so I quickly add, “And just because you know of my past as a night attendant does not mean I’ll offer you any similar…services.” As embarrassing as it is, my cheeks warm at the mention.
“I would never ask you to do that in exchange for my protection. Ever.” I’m taken aback by the harshness of his tone.
Confused, I blink at him, my voice softening. “So, what do you want then?”
With his arms still folded across his chest, he continues staring up at the sky. “I’m not sure yet.” He answers in a way that convinces me there is complete truth in the statement.
My brows pinch together. “So, I’m just supposed to agree to some undisclosed cost? That doesn’t seem like very smart bargaining.”
Draven huffs, amused, and returns his gaze to me. “Would you like to set boundaries on the price?”
His taunting voice has me lifting my chin and straightening my spine. “I would, as a matter of fact. ”
He waves a lazy hand. “By all means.”
His wry tone is irritating, and I shoot him a sharp look.
“First, the cost cannot be related to anything sexual. Second, you cannot ask me to lie, cheat, murder, or steal for you. And third…” I expose my palms to myself, glancing down at them.
“You cannot ask me to do anything that makes me feel as though I’ve been stripped of choice. ”
“Done.” There is no hesitation in his reply—as if he answered without a shred of thought.
My brows kick up to my hairline, and I whip my gaze to him. “That’s it? No counteroffers or haggling to change any of my limitations?”
He glances at me with a heavy arch in his brow. “Do you want me to do those things?”
I blink. “Well, no. Obviously not.”
“Great,” he drawls. “Then we’re in perfect agreement. I find a way to train you and keep you protected from the Abdites, and in turn, you’ll repay me in the way I eventually choose, so long as it’s in accordance with your boundaries.”
I hold his gaze—his eyes almost glowing in the darkness, the blues and greens clear like glass. “You have a deal.” I extend my hand to him.
He glances at it, then meets it with his own calloused palm. “You know,” he muses in a wry tone. “It’s a shame you decided to become a Jurafen. You would have made one hell of a merchant.”
“I’m taking that as nothing but a compliment.”
“Take it however you like,” he quips back.
We both observe the other for a long, silent moment.
With stark realization, I notice our hands never let go.
They remain clasped together, still locked in an unmoving handshake.
I tug my hand free of his. As I do, a loud, piercing noise suddenly splits the night air, oscillating between different pitches. A voice soon follows the wailing sound.
All examinees report to the Arena immediately. I repeat, all examinees report to the Arena immediately.
But…it’s the middle of the night.
I whip my eyes to Draven. “What the hell is happening?”
“Your first test.”