Chapter 5
Five
Avalon
W hen I woke, my clock said it was almost midnight, and my stomach said it was about to crawl up my throat and find a better person to live inside. Also, there was a girl sitting on the side of my bed, staring down at me.
“What the fuck?!” I screeched.
She tilted her head. “Your boobs are out.”
I recognized her from the Twelfth Line. I ground my teeth together, pulling a blanket across my body. “That’s because I’m in my room, in my bed. Alone.”
Shrugging, she stood. “We were worried about you when you didn’t turn up for dinner. I volunteered to come and check you hadn’t died after training.”
That was oddly sweet. “Uh. Thank you?”
Grinning at me, the girl thrust out her hand, palm up. I stared at it stupidly, until I remembered that it was the traditional farewell of the Twelfth Line. Placing my palm to hers, I slid it along and then curled my fingertips against hers. It was a gesture that they did when they parted ways, one small clinging motion that said they longed to see you again, or something. See, etiquette lessons weren’t a giant waste of time.
The girl turned and walked out of my bedroom, with no other explanation or even telling me her name. I slumped back against the pillow, weighing up whether I should go back to sleep, or find my way to the kitchen and hope I could sneak in and raid the shelves without alerting the staff.
My stomach gave another painful cramp. I was starving, and I needed food.
Decision made, I stood and pulled on a long-sleeved black shirt that hit my knees. Another one of Kian’s shirts. He was going to have to go to the tailor sooner than he normally would once he realized I’d stolen a large portion of his wardrobe.
Slipping out of my room, and then the Ninth Line dorm, I began to climb the stairs. Holy Mother of the Great North, my thighs... I hadn’t even been working my thighs in battle training, but they hurt with every single movement as I climbed the ancient stone steps.
By the Seventh Line dorm, I wanted to puke, but I kept pushing until I reached the atrium landing. My knees were shaking so badly, I almost collapsed on the slate flagstones. Dragging myself out the doors, I noted how quiet Boellium was at night. The solid stone building insulated any noise from permeating the quietness of the atrium. Or maybe it was magic.
Magic wasn’t something the Lower Six Lines had much experience in. The First Line had more magic in their little fingers than the rest of the rest of us combined. The unfairness of the whole thing burned at times. Magic could have changed the lives of all of us.
The Eleventh and Twelfth Lines wouldn’t have to starve if they had the same elemental magic that several of the Upper Six Lines had. They could bring on the rains, or promote the growth of their crops. They wouldn’t have had to watch their children wither and die from lack of food and fresh water.
The night animals made a quiet soundtrack to the witching hour as I crossed the cobblestone courtyard to the mess hall. Not another soul stirred, which suited me just fine. While I might be slowly adjusting to the sheer amount of people housed in the college, I still found the quiet stillness of being by myself a physical balm to my soul.
Surprisingly, the mess hall was unlocked, though the door creaked so loudly, fear ran up my spine. I stilled, waiting for the sound of footsteps, or for someone to magically appear and send me back to my room, or kick me out or something, but no one came.
I stepped into the hall and walked softly across the heavy floorboards. The scent of dinner still permeated the room, making my stomach growl nearly as loudly as the door. First, I went and looked at the section that held snacks, but it had been completely raided. There were two nut squares left, and I pocketed those, but my churning stomach told me that probably wouldn’t be enough.
Slipping behind the large trestle tables that held the dishes at mealtimes, I walked down a short hall and a set of stairs to the kitchens. A large fire was burning, kept burning by magic and not by a hearth boy.
My Keep had one of those, a little orphan who tended the fire during the night. Cerri was small for his age due to malnutrition, and had been found wandering through the town when he was little more than five. The Keep had taken him in, and now he was a constant in the Keep’s kitchens, being fed up by the cooks and doted on by the maids. He was a sweetheart, but everyone in the North had a job, no matter how young or old.
My job was to be a sacrificial tribute.
Pushing the negative thoughts away, I went to the cool locker, again spelled by magic. I pulled out a huge hock of smoked ham, and my mouth watered. Finding some slabs of bread, I was well on my way to making myself a sandwich that I’d have dreams about forever when a throat cleared behind me.
Dropping the knife with a clatter on the countertop, I spun toward the noise, my spine jamming ramrod straight when I came face to face with the Heir to the First Line for the second time that day.
Although he wouldn’t become the ruler, every direct descendant of a Line Baron was called an Heir, and could be called up to lead if something happened. Technically, even I was an Heir, but my father would rather rule as a corpse than let me become Baron of the Ninth Line.
“Theft? Surprisingly cliché for a Lower Six conscript.” The Heir’s tone was filled with disdainful boredom, and it might have been because my blood was already pulsing with adrenaline, or maybe because he was so dismissive of the struggles of the people of Ebrus, but it made me irrational.
Sneering at him, I picked up the knife again and turned my back to the powerful Heir. “Willfully blind to the suffering of his people. Surprisingly cliché for an Upper Six Heir,” I snarked back, rushing through finishing up my sandwich while keeping my actions even and slow. He’d never know that I was halving my toppings. Maybe I just liked ham and cheese.
He sniffed. “I could have you thrown from Boellium for insulting me.”
I rolled my eyes, but thankfully, he couldn’t see me. “That’s your prerogative, my liege. ” I used the title with my own disdainfully bored tone. Fuck, I needed to reel back in my tongue before I ended up hanging by my feet from the rafters, bleeding out from my nose. “I’ll inform the kitchen staff of obtaining my own food tomorrow morning. I was… otherwise engaged during the mealtime service.” Let him think I was actually doing something important, and not passed out from exhaustion.
He raised an eyebrow. “With Taeme from the Third? Don’t think you’re special. He’s had every female recruit on their back at one point or another. Some of the staff too,” he informed me with an irritated sniff.
Don’t say it. Don’t say it.
“I’m sure he’d have you on your back too, if you asked nicely.” My tongue was in control now, leaving my good sense behind in the dust. I was a fool. A dead and buried fool. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to bed, if I’m to be a stellar student in this fine institution.”
I went to move past him, but suddenly, it was like moving through quicksand. Bands of air tightened around my body, holding me still. Oh fuck. I’d lasted one whole day at Boellium before dying. It wasn’t a record, I knew that, but even so, it was a record for our Line.
Vox leaned in, his lips so close to my face, he could probably bite off my nose. His eyes sparkled with anger. “If you think Hayle Taeme would be on top, you know very little about me, Low Class.”
That’s what his issue is?
He leaned forward and took a bite of my sandwich, still suspended in front of me. Then he plucked it from my fingers and threw it on the ground, striding with a confident swagger from the kitchen.
I struggled against the invisible bonds, but it was futile. I was here, at the mercy of anyone who walked in. Despite logically knowing it was useless, I pushed and strained until I was making a wounded animal noise, tears leaking from the corners of my eyes.
I was trapped as easily as a mouse by a barn cat.
A soft noise had me straining to look over my shoulder. I saw the hound first. The same one from today during training, I thought. It had a purple stolt in its mouth, and I recognized its tiny white socks as my stolt. Or the stolt that lived on my floor. Not mine. I wasn’t attached to the rodent.
“Drop it,” I hissed, and both the hound and the stolt cocked their heads at me.
But the hound indeed dropped the tiny creature. Unlike with the war cat, the stolt didn’t run away. It sat on its haunches and indignantly smoothed all the canine slobber from its coat.
I glared at the stupid creature. “You must have been the dullest stolt in your whole litter.”
On the stars, I swear the hound grinned back at me, like it thought my comments were hilarious. The hound—which was a she, I thought—shuffled closer to me and sniffed the magic surrounding me. One of her lips peeled back from her canines, and I knew I was about to die. It was the surprise of my life when she let out a giant sneeze, shaking her head in disgust at the scent of magic and covering me in hound snot.
“Agreed. It does stink.” I stopped struggling and let my body slump against the bindings. If Vox wanted to waste his energy keeping me suspended all night, I could sleep like this. Dick.
Footsteps suddenly sounded outside the door, and I froze. I was fully aware of how very vulnerable I was right now. What if Vox had sent someone down to beat the shit out of me—or worse—while I was incapacitated? What if it was someone completely unrelated, and they took advantage anyway?
Sensing the spike in my anxiety, the hound wrapped herself comfortingly around my legs, while the stolt stood by, cleaning its butthole.
I was almost relieved when Hayle Taeme appeared around the corner. He looked dishevelled, like he’d been asleep, or if Vox was to be believed, mid-fuck. The grin he gave me made me believe it was probably the latter. A man as handsome as Hayle wouldn’t sleep alone.
“We have to stop meeting like this,” he murmured, coming closer to poke at my invisible bindings. “You pissed off Vox, I see.”
Straightening, he pulled out his necklace. There were two chains, one empty and one laden with talisman charms. There must have been twenty charms on the second necklace, each attached by a tiny silver clasp. Without looking down, he slipped the empty chain over his head, then moved his fingers along the chain remaining around his neck until he found the charm he wanted. With deft fingers, he unclasped it and hooked it onto the empty chain.
That many tals must have cost his family a small fortune, but I guess the Third Line had a lot of wealth, so why not deck out your favorite son with enough talismans to ward off the hand of death itself?
He reached toward me, and I flinched away. I didn’t know if they were offensive or defensive talismans, and in the dim lighting, I couldn’t make out the details on the swinging charm.
Noting my flinch, Hayle raised his hands. “It’s an elemental tal . It nulls the effects of bindings that use one of mother nature’s elements.” Easing toward me, he slipped the necklace gently over my head. “Earth. Fire. Water.” The talisman fell against my chest, and the binding broke immediately. I would have dropped to my knees if Hayle hadn’t been there to catch me. “And air, of course.” Steadying me back on my feet, he gave me a once-over. “What did you do to annoy everyone’s least favorite Ice Prince?”
Well, I couldn’t exactly tell Hayle that I’d insinuated that Vox wanted to fuck him, so instead, I flushed and went with the next closest truth. “I may not have shown the proper respect that an Heir to the First Line feels is due. I might’ve suggested he was willfully blind to the state of his people.”
Hayle raised a brow, but didn’t say anything else. “I would avoid pissing off Vox Vylan. You are playing outside your league, Avalon Halhed.” He grinned at me. “But I find it kind of hot.” He gave a soft whistle, and I realized the stolt and Hayle’s hound companions—I hadn’t even noticed the other one appear—were all eating my sandwich.
I glared at the stolt. “Seriously?” Sighing, I let them have it. I had my nut squares still in my pocket; that would have to tide me over tonight.
Hayle laughed, looking at the animals near our feet. “You have yourself a loyal companion. He came to find my hounds when he realized you were stuck. You should name him, though. It’s a show of respect.” With that, he let out another low whistle and turned. “I’ll be seeing you, Avalon Halhed. Stay out of trouble and away from the bastard prince.”
Then he was gone, yet again.
I looked down at the stolt curiously. Was it more sentient than I gave it credit for? “Should I name you, or are you returning to the wild now?” As if answering my question, it picked up a piece of ham and stuffed it in its mouth. It was a wonder any more food would even fit. “I’ll take that as a sign you’re staying. I guess Hayle is right. You need a name.”
I started walking back toward the entrance of the food hall toward my dorm room. I guess I couldn’t call him It . Or Stolt. Or like, Fuzzy, or anything that lame. He reminded me of the purple and white epsirialle flowers that grew in the cook’s garden back home. Epsirialle might be a little girlish, though. Hayle had suggested it was a he, and as a Master of Beasts, he’d probably know.
“What about Epsy?” I suggested to the tiny creature.
He flicked an ear at me and ran up the side of my pants to perch on my shoulder. When had he gone from terrified of me to an unintentional fur scarf? “Epsy it is.” Tentatively, I reached up and scratched his ear. “Thanks for the save. I appreciate it.”
Epsy just curled his long, fluffy tail around my throat and dug his little claws into my shirt, still chewing on the food stuffed in his cheeks.
Apparently, I had already accrued one friend in this shithole. But that was my limit.