Chapter 20 #2
She sniffed and dabbed at one eye. “I’ve never told anyone this,” she began, not appearing to have heard my attempt at changing the subject.
“But back home, being a princess isn’t what it is here.
I’m the youngest of seven, and three are boys, leaving me last on the list to inherit, which means I’m essentially nothing more than a bargaining chip for my father, of little value other than the fact that whoever I marry gains direct access to my father, which is valuable.
” I’d never heard her ramble quite so much.
Usually, her speech was crisp and to the point.
Her eyes remained pinned to the corner of the room as she spoke.
“In my country, men can marry multiple women. It’s considered a mark of strength and power to have many wives.
My father has three wives and six concubines.
” I tried to hide my shock, but Vanya’s quick glance said she’d heard my quiet gasp.
“He only considers his true children those born from his wives. I’m the last child of his youngest wife, and all my siblings are much older than I am.
” My brows were nestled in my hairline now, but I sat and listened without a word.
“My father sent me here not to bring a stronger union between our countries, though that sounds better than the truth. He sent me here because I was bringing shame on his name.”
Enough silence passed that I finally said, “I’m sorry, Vanya.”
Her reddened eyes flicked to mine. “Don’t you want to know why?”
I shrugged. I had shameful things I didn’t want to admit, especially to the people at this school—my father’s addiction to gambling that had ruined my family, my brother who’d joined a gang to try to rise out of the gutter, or the night I’d slept on the street.
If Vanya had that kind of secret, I didn’t want to pry into that space.
“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. ”
She sniffed again. “I think I need to tell someone. The fact that no one knows makes it feel like I’m going to explode, every day, all the time.
” Her words nicked at me a little as I thought of the truths I was hiding from her, the things I was never planning to tell her.
“About a year ago, a wealthy man from my country came forward to marry me.” She swabbed her cheeks with the back of her sleeve.
“But I…fell for his declarations of love and was with him before the wedding. The next morning, he rejected me, Ari, publicly. And I have to live with that. I was seventeen and scared, and now no one will ever have me because I’ve brought too much shame on my family to ever be… desired again.”
I struggled not to gawk at her as she spoke. Suddenly, my cheeks heated, not because of what she’d said, but because I’d felt so burdened by my own difficulties. In comparison to Vanya’s story, one night on the sidewalk didn’t sound so bad.
Finally, I said, “I’m glad you told me. I…” Struggling to find the right words, I trailed off. Finally, I settled on speaking what I knew was true. “You are beautiful, and the kindest person here. I bet half the boys here are in love with you.”
Vanya offered me a small smile below glistening eyes. “Thanks, Ar.”
My lips quirked. “That’s what my brother calls me.”
“You have a brother?” She sat up straighter, eager to talk about me, it seemed.
After what she’d told me, telling her about my family was much easier than I’d thought.
I talked about Bennett, about how he’d let the anger over our father’s poor choices drive him to an even worse path.
I told her about Evie, how I wanted my sister to have everything she could ever want.
I was careful to avoid the word bottomsider, though, since Fairfax needed the people here to assume I was his blood relative whose family had fallen into difficult circumstances.
Absently, I rubbed at my chest, where a knot that had been lodged there for far too long seemed to loosen a fraction.
I was now sitting on Vanya’s bed beside her, leaning against the wall. “I’m afraid Ben will die, too,” I said, thinking of my brother’s hardened look, his pistol that he’d shot at Myth, and the tattoo on his neck.
Vanya patted my upraised knee. “But because you’re here, you can change everything for your family. Graduating from Cardan Lott will place you in a position to provide for them for the rest of your lives.”
Fiddling with the hem of my shirt, I said, “I’m not sure I’ll graduate. Fairfax only said he’d sponsor me for one year.”
“What?” Vanya sat forward, peering over at me. “Why?”
“I guess even Fairfax knows they’ll kick me out when they learn who I really am.”
This truth hurt worse than all the shameful facts about my family I’d just shared.
Fairfax never planned for me to graduate, never assumed I could last among the nobility.
He needed me to be here, to train and ride and put up a decent fight in that final race, but only so I could find out how the Covingtons always won.
I pinched my eyes closed. With classes and late nights in the lair with Rush, I’d forgotten about digging up answers to Fairfax’s questions.
Vanya drew a sharp inhale and covered her mouth. “I don’t believe that. He’s given you a chance, Ari.”
I shrugged. “Maybe so, but if he withdraws his sponsorship, I’ll never be able to afford this school.”
She slapped her palms against her thighs. “It just means you have to work harder to prove you do belong here.”
I blinked at her for a moment. “The rebel princess,” I whispered.
She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin.
“I’m hardly a princess anymore, not to my own people anyway.
” She leaned forward and lowered her voice.
“We’ll just have to make sure everyone here sees that you deserve to stay here.
He won’t withdraw his sponsorship if you win the year-end race; I’m certain of it.
” She laughed. “I mean it, Ari—you have to race to win.”
My heart galloped in my chest as I nodded. “That’s what Fairfax wants, too. But I—I’m not as good as you, or Prescott, or Rush.”
Vanya grinned. “Shep thinks you’re good. When I asked him, he said you and Myth did some advanced maneuvers the other night. What?” She swatted my knee as I gawked at her. “Of course I asked him about it. You certainly didn’t give me enough details.”
As I lay in bed that night, the memory of Myth’s golden-flecked scales and bright eyes filled my mind.
Flying with him on the hunt had awoken in me a fire I didn’t know I had.
A fire that said maybe I could win. But to win, I had to find out how Covington’s father planned to ensure his son won. Find out, and then ruin it.
Maybe it was a good thing I was spending so much time with Covington. His secrets all seemed to be buried in that journal of his. If I could get my hands on it, I might be able to discover, finally, the answers Fairfax wanted.
The week of school before winter break, the deep green of the pines and spruce in the forest did little to brighten the otherwise gray day outside as Vanya and I hurried from the lair to the school building.
An icy wind had made everyone eager to finish their chores at the lair and head inside to warm themselves by a roaring fire.
“I’m going to check the post,” I said, turning left as Vanya turned right toward our house.
When I checked the post room adjacent to the front atrium, I spotted a letter with my name on it. My false name, which I’d grown accustomed to after two months of seeing it written on my papers. Miss Arivelle Miro.
I ducked into a windowed alcove off the atrium and tore into the letter.
Arivelle,
I am pleased to hear of your progress with Myth. Perhaps my hopes of you rising as a contender in this year’s race are not far-fetched, after all. Don’t forget our deal.
I let the paper fall onto my lap as I let out a long breath. With midterm exams and papers hanging over my head, I didn’t need the reminder from Fairfax to excel. I was barely sleeping as it was.
Be not discouraged if your progress is slow. I believe in you, Arivelle. Remember, you have something no one else has. Do not waste the gift you have been given.
Wishing you a joyous Rending,
Your uncle,
Merlon Fairfax
I crushed the letter in my fist as soon as I read his name.
Somehow, our dream of shattering the centuries-old way of doing things felt ludicrous.
If I’d learned anything in my months at Cardan Lott, it was that these people cherished their way of doing things, and upending that would take more than a single girl and her dragon.
What if everything you think you know is a lie?
Covington’s words haunted me the rest of the evening as I studied the best ways to treat a dragon’s hide in the event of a lost scale and attempted to memorize the formula for the cream used on dragon skin to prevent sunburn on the skin beneath.
Of all the upcoming finals, chemistry was going to be the most challenging.
As I tapped away at a typewriter in the library, my gaze kept drifting out the window, but this side of the school offered me only a soot-streaked view of the chimneys of Treston.
And no matter how hard I tried to focus on the exact chemical makeup of a half-dozen ointments and salves, my thoughts kept drifting between ways I might get a peek at Covington’s journal and wondering what Covington’s theory was.
True to his word, the invitations for the night race were sitting inside our books that we’d left by the fireplace in the common room. It was the night before final exams, a terrible time to miss sleep, but Covington had promised me answers, and I wasn’t going to miss my chance to learn them.
My heart fluttered as I donned the dress Vanya had insisted on buying me.
Loose fabric hung down my body. Over my chemise, only a girdle, an undergarment Vanya and the woman at the dressmaker’s shop had insisted I needed for this look.
I ran my hands down the beaded fabric that hung smoothly down my silhouette.
“You, my dear, look fabulous,” Vanya said, twirling in her own gorgeous dress. Her black hair was curled and down, also a newer fashion, only pinned back behind one ear with a pearl clasp.
“And you look like a princess.” When I was standing next to her, no one would notice me. But with the rumors circulating about me, it was nothing new.
“You’ll need this,” she said, holding out the fur stole I’d borrowed the night we’d slept outside.
My shoulders slumped. “You’ve already given me the dress.”
“And now I’m giving myself a gift. I don’t want to hear you whining about how cold it is all night.” She smiled and threw the fur wrap at me.
The train ride was as boisterous as always, bets being thrown around like candy.
I was hunkered down with Vanya when Covington strolled onto the train.
This time, he wore a waistcoat, like the rest of the boys.
None of his usual exhaustion shone on his face tonight.
Instead, an easy smile replaced his scowl.
According to what we’d learned from Bryce this year, Myth would come to me, even across several miles, if I called for him.
So I’d left Myth’s roof hatch open, as we did when the dragons were allowed out to hunt, hoping that Covington’s townhouse wasn’t too far away to silence my call.
Covington scanned the crowd, pausing briefly on me and moving on.
My stomach jumped into my throat, and I told myself it was just the excitement of the night race.
Shep and a few other third years hurried onto the train just after the call for all aboard.
As they made their way down the aisle, Shep caught my eye. He winked at me, and Vanya gasped, elbowing me so hard I coughed.
Grasping the seat in front of us, Shep leaned down. “Looking lovely tonight, ladies,” he said, tipping his hat.
“She does, doesn’t she?” Vanya said, giggling.
Shep nodded again, his eyes on me.
Biting my lips, I watched him follow his friends to the seats up front.
“Encourage him!” Vanya hissed at me. “Or one of those third years will snatch him up.”
I fully believed one of the pretty third years would snatch him up anyway, encouragement or no, and no was certainly easier.
When we descended the train, Covington stood at the far end of the platform, hands in his pockets, face directed at the train car where the crowd spilled out.
Laughter and the steam from the engine fogged the night, but I caught the way his posture stiffened as he saw me.
He held my gaze a moment, then turned and fell in step beside Prescott, throwing his arm around him.
No sooner had the dragons assembled at the starting line—a third year and a second year this time—than someone shouted, “They’re coming! Hide!”