53. Sable
SABLE
A whole week of nightmares passes after Liliana and Arabella’s stunt.
I’ve woken screaming every night, convinced I’m trapped beneath the water and about to die with my father.
Much to my surprise, though, my terror hasn’t gone unanswered.
Lex and Parker both have been taking turns sleeping with me at night, only after the screaming begins of course.
On one particularly hot, but awkward night, they lay on each side of me, and I slept pressed between the hot walls of manly chests.
It’s finally Thursday again, and I must not have been shouting last night, because I’m all alone and there’s no lingering scent of cologne.
The knowledge that it’s Thursday sits heavy on my mind, and I wonder what might happen today.
Of all the things I expect, Soren actually showing up is not one of them.
My mouth is dry, and my body is sore from all the nights of fighting against nothing.
I might have to go hungry again, but that’s a price worth paying for being left alone.
Frankly, I’m so terrified of leaving the safety of these walls that I must be going crazy.
When did these walls become safe to begin with?
I’m so retraumatized that this week of attending classes and keeping my head held high has been pure torture.
Being locked here means everyone is locked out, too, and I don’t mind the arrangement.
I climb out of bed, stretching, before throwing my nightgown over my head.
I tiptoe to my own suitcase, the last traces that prove there was a Sable Briarwick before all of this insanity.
I search for something comfortable to wear.
I love the intricate dresses Orion sent, but I also love sweatpants and lying in bed.
I’m lost in thought, bent over the clothes I don’t wear anymore, when the front door swings open, ripping a short scream from my throat.
I turn to find who I believe is Orion, but Soren speaks.
“I’m forced to take you for the day, and you’re not even ready?
” My eyes move to the hint of a tattoo at his jawline, and I wonder if the dress code forces him to cover them.
I want to map the entirety of ink on his body and ask him what they all mean.
“Oh my God, Soren,” I say, cheeks instantly flaming.
“Oh my God, Sable,” he answers sarcastically, drawing the words out like I’m annoying him despite him walking in on me unannounced.
“Give me a few minutes, please.”
His eyes close for a long second, and many emotions flash across his face.
For the first time, I’m afraid of how he’s going to react.
I’ve never been forced on him before. My peaceful day is over, but I keep myself from complaining because I sense it can get a lot worse.
Only one of us should plan on being bitchy today, and Soren already decided on that role.
“Less than five,” he tells me, confirming my thoughts, before stepping back out and closing the door a bit too hard.
I tuck my suitcase back under the bed and move to the closet.
I don’t take my normal time appreciating the careful workmanship of the pieces with the stress of Soren waiting in the hall and growing more annoyed by the minute.
I haven’t been in the mood to impress anyone, and blending into the stone walls has seemed safer since the last incident.
Thankfully, Soren is not the showy twin, so I feel safer in picking something simple.
I pick a long-sleeved white shirt, and then place a short silk dress over it.
I almost look like a nineties fashion icon, rather than a Victorian weirdo, and it makes me smile ever so slightly.
The set is definitely the most comfortable thing in this wardrobe.
I quickly dry shampoo and blow-dry my hair to style it—no makeup.
I look okay for very little effort. My cheeks are a little too sallow, and I swipe on some blush to be sure I don’t look as drained as I feel.
With that one change, I finally look alive.
Oh how deceiving looks can be, but that illusion should be enough for today.
My stomach tangles into a mess of nerves, and I curse myself for not telling Soren to get lost. A day alone would be better than waiting to face a man I have a crush on as if he’s my executioner. How did I end up so goddamn pathetic?
The door pops open without any warning.
“Ready?” he asks. His eyes run over me. “I guess not, and I even gave you fifteen minutes instead of five.”
“How generous of you,” I say, already breaking my vow not to be the bitchy one.
“And the makeup?” he challenges.
“I’m not wearing any, sorry,” I say it with conviction, but my stomach turns over in worry that he would like me better if I had.
“So what took so damn long then?” There’s heat in his eyes and cheeks, and his gaze runs over my body.
“I thought you might like me to be wearing clothes.” He goes quiet, his eyes flash, and I’m suddenly sure he very much likes what he sees.
I tip my chin up. His eyes go to my bare throat, and he surprises me by stepping toward me.
His hand raises as it wraps around my throat, and I’m only afraid for a millisecond before his thumb caresses the delicate skin.
“Lex took this off,” he marvels.
I shrug. “After I nearly drowned. I guess it’s easier to revive someone without a strap around their throat.
” He takes his hand off me quickly, as if my skin is too hot to touch.
I’m not sure what my words triggered in him, but it’s clear they had an effect.
Does he feel guilty? Soren gave me freedom, and that eventually led to my harm, but that’s certainly not his fault.
Sometimes things just happen. I know now that I’m not safe roaming these halls, but I’ll always be grateful to the only person who treated me like an adult.
My mouth opens to let him know he doesn’t need to feel guilty or take me with him today, when I appreciate everything he’s done already.
He’s quicker, and before I can say a word, he turns on his heel. “Let’s go.”
I follow him out the door and through the university, a step behind all the way to the library.
I’ve never been obsessed with books or anything, but that changes as I step through the doorway.
My mouth drops open when I enter the most beautiful library I’ve ever seen, and an instant sense of calm surrounds me, almost like I’ve been here before, but as a small child.
I know that can’t be true, but there’s so little of my old life left that I appreciate the wave of nostalgia all the same.
“Oh my God,” I gasp.
This place belongs in a movie. Tall shelves reach all the way to the ceiling, made of dark wood and filled with beautiful earth-toned hardbacks. Every five rows there is a break, leaving space for a set of armchairs and round tables. Students sit over textbooks and whisper among each other.
“I need to prepare for a test,” he says as he leads me into the space. “Pick a book or use the computer, I don’t really care.”
I pick an armchair and sit in it. The softness and crush of velvet under me feel so luxurious.
The low light offers a level of intimacy.
The dark tones pull you back in time. Hushed whispers melt into the background until you almost feel alone.
Soren surprises me by taking the chair next to me.
He could sit across or a few spaces down and still watch me fine enough.
So his choice to stay close doesn’t go unnoticed.
He pulls out a textbook and a tablet. My eyes stick to the screen as he pulls up an elaborate network of notes.
“What are you studying?”
“Criminology,” he answers. “And I’m pursuing a Juris Doctor.”
“What does that even mean?” I ask, never having heard the term even in our circles.
“It’s a helpful degree if you want to work in law education.”
“Do you?” I ask, having a hard time imagining him as a teacher.
“Legal librarian,” he qualifies.
“I never even thought about tests,” I confess. “Failing Lex’s classes is a given, but I might have a shot at yours.” I seriously doubt that, but he’s fun to rile.
Soren snorts. “Don’t worry, no one is expecting much of you during your Offering year. You can enroll in the classes that interest you next year.”
“Oh,” I say, not sure what to do with the information.
“Don’t act surprised, it was in the contract,” he taunts me, seeming to hint at the time I nearly confessed to him.
“What if I didn’t read the contract?” I ask.
He scoffs, like that answered his question about my half confession. “I guess that doesn’t surprise me.” Disgust fills his face as he gets up and reaches for a book on the other shelf.
I don’t really mind what he thinks of me, but I guess it stings that he didn’t even hear what I was really saying.
Aside from my hurt feelings, I’m left to wonder.
It’s hard to imagine anything beyond the Offering year.
Everything about these last few months has been overwhelming, and that’s saying a lot given all the things that happened to me before I even got here.
Walking through these halls without being their shadow?
I’m not sure I’d even want it after everything, and for the first time, I realize that’s something I truly need to consider. Where do I go next year?
Soren returns with five books and resumes his place, nose stuck in the first one.
I take one of the piles, just so I have something to do with my hands.
But soon, my eyes are everywhere except the books, scanning the crowd and imagining one of the girls lying on my bed instead of me, waiting for them to open the door.
“Who were the past Offerings?” I ask even though I’m not sure I’m ready to hear the answer. “Are they all still at Bellthorn?”
Is this jealousy? I refuse to feel jealous of the other poor girls who were in the same position. But feelings aren’t rational, and something nasty curls inside me as I wait for the answer. Its bitter taste coats my tongue, and I lick my lips, watching Soren.
“I’m not telling you that.”
“Oh, please.” I snort, rolling my eyes.
“I don’t have any interest in telling you their names, but also… It’s not allowed.”
“Why?”
His brow furrows. “Seriously, did you even read the contract before signing, Sable? Is that what you meant? You signed and didn’t even bother to read it?
” At least what I said to him has been weighing on his mind.
My face falls. This hurts worse than I expected.
I didn’t actually confide in him, and I realize now that was for a very serious reason. I can’t trust him.
“You know me. Too much reading is boring.” The rehearsed line falls off my lips.
“Sure, is screaming and crying all damn night boring too?” he shoots back, and I hate myself for the way it aches.
“Incredibly mundane,” I say. I expect him to get angrier or let it go entirely, but instead Soren pins me with a suspicious look. I’m not ready to tell him, but I may have overplayed my hand. The stupid act usually lands seamlessly.
“Anyway,” I say, trying to distract him. “You said I don't need to worry about classes this year, but some of them are interesting to me anyway.”
“I thought you said you don’t like to read,” he counters.
“The ones I like aren’t much reading.”
He sighs in frustration, before his resistance dissolves, and he asks, “Like what?”
“Orion’s classes mostly. Don’t tell him, though. His ego doesn’t need any more help.”
Soren chuckles, but I continue.
“I’ve always loved clothes, and I’m good with my hands. I think it could be fun.”
“Fun?” he asks.
“Yes, fun.”
“At Bellthorn?” he clarifies.
“At Bellthorn.”
He shrugs. “You can pursue your interests when we’re together, but I wouldn’t advise talking to Orion about it.” I don’t know if I’ll even be here next year, but at least he’s forgotten about digging out my secrets.
“Why?” I ask, my eyebrows pressing together in concern.
“He doesn’t like things that take the attention off him, and if you have a shiny enough toy, he will smash it.”