Chapter 32
Audra had successfully avoided speaking to any other spirits or ghosts since the Basement Lurker. She’d seen more, oh yes, she’d seen more, but she refused to meet their gazes and did her best to pretend that they didn’t exist.
They did not know she could see them, and so they ignored her just as much as she ignored them …
until she’d stormed down the cobblestoned path, boots crunching through slush, head down, chin tucked into the buttoned collar of her wool coat, hurrying to surround herself with living, mostly human people, to suppress the awful feelings being near a demon had prompted inside her (lost, unsure, terrified), and ran directly through one.
The sudden sensation of being drenched with frigid water, but instead of just soaking her clothes, face, and hair, the water itself moved beneath her very skin to freeze her insides. Audra screamed. Loudly.
Everyone outside Central Main’s rear entrance—initiates, novices, groundskeepers—stopped to stare. Including the spirit.
And two priestesses.
“Are you quite alright, initiate?” asked one of the priestesses, gossamer veil shifting, wheat-colored brows above pale eyes narrowed in suspicion.
At the same time, the spirit cried out, “What was that?”
Audra’s mouth went dry; her body shook with a shiver, the sensation of passing through the ghost lingered.
The stress from the last hour threatened to overwhelm her entirely.
“Sorry, I thought I saw a … bear,” Audra replied.
Refusing to acknowledge the spirit, even as the entity began to circle her, entirely too close, she forced herself to meet the priestesses cold, glowing gaze.
“A bear?” the other asked, one silver eyebrow raising dubiously.
“Does Zenaida even have bears?” voiced a random initiate who’d stopped, too nosy to remember what decorum was.
“Of course we have bears, you nitwit; open any children’s book on the ecology of Zenaida, and you’ll learn that,” said the spirit, who’d paused their circling directly in front of Audra.
Audra tried not to acknowledge the spirit, but she couldn’t help but notice that she’d died an old woman—if the spirit had been the ghost of a human, Audra would guess she was around a grandmother’s age.
Audra gazed through her form. “I … think it was just a stray dog. I’m sorry for causing a disruption.”
Both harrumphed in unison but seemed appeased by her apology. The one with the silver brow clapped, as though shooing children away from dessert set out on the table before they’d eaten any dinner. “Alright … Be on your way, everyone.”
The small crowd dispersed, moved on, everyone hurrying around Audra, who still hadn’t moved. If she walked forward, she would pass through the spirit again, and she couldn’t handle that … sensation again. Her body was racked with a shiver at the thought.
“You felt me. You can see me.”
Audra ignored her and bent down to worry at the lace on her boot, pretending to tie it, though it was looped tight already. When she stood, she took a step sideways and continued forward, hopefully appearing normal as she sidestepped the spirit. The spirit wasn’t having it.
She sidled right up to Audra and floated alongside her.
Audra sighed. It would be too much for this day to give her a break, then. First, a very public failure, then a surprise demon, and now this.
“It wasn’t pleasurable for me either, you know. I hate when the living pass through me—I swear most of what a spirit does all day is spent avoiding you bumbling lot.”
What did it feel like for them? If they felt freezing to Audra, did she feel scorching to them? Basement Lurker had made it seem like heat would feel good to them.
She’d been planning on going to the dining hall, which would be filled with initiates and zero demons, but when she stepped inside Central Main, Audra turned away from the dining hall and headed to the stairs leading to the basement level.
No point in going to the dining hall now, not when this old spirit was determined to pester her. She might as well see if she could shake the ghost down there, where she was less likely to be caught talking to herself.
“Why are you going down here? Initiates aren’t supposed to be down here,” the spirit said, her tone admonishing. And that was when Audra realized that the spirit wasn’t wearing an ugly dress, but the robes of a scholar.
Ugh.
The washroom at the end of the corridor was once again empty, or so it appeared. She closed and locked the door behind her, for the spirit had followed her in.
“I see; you wanted somewhere no one would spy on you talking to me.”
“Yes, I would rather people not think I talk to myself—things are difficult for me enough as it is.”
The long-dead scholar twirled when Audra addressed her, her giddiness at being seen clear in the way she whirled, and the smile now plastered on her translucent wrinkled face.
“I knew it! I knew you could see me, but I was beginning to doubt if you could hear me, good acting. You’ve had quite a lot of practice ignoring us spirits, have you?”
“Too much practice,” Audra gritted out between clenched teeth. “Please, I need you to pretend this hasn’t happened. I am barely managing to go unnoticed by the priestesses, and at least one scholar already thinks lowly of me—no need to let them think I’m mad as well as a failure.”
The spirit’s smile fell. “You’re a bad student? I’m not surprised.”
Audra felt a spike of offense. What about her made this old biddy think she wasn’t a good student? She was an excellent pupil; she just failed at some incras. Audra placed her hands on her hips, narrowing her eyes. “Why not?”
“Because if you can see the dead, sweetheart, you’re clearly the Cycle Heir—and your magic doesn’t work like the others’; the incras they’re teaching the rest of the initiates will all go wrong for you.”
Audra stomach heaved. “They said the Heir’s magic was better, stronger, not … not …” The Heir. Fuck, twice in one day, she was bombarded with this Heir business. “Doesn’t matter. I am not—”
“No point in denying it to me, Initiate; there’s no keeping secrets from the dead.
” The spirit’s face softened. “This must be difficult to bear alone, without the Chorus of Echoes to guide you. I wonder …” The spirit reached a hand out, straightened Audra’s collar gently.
“I wonder why it is that you’re keeping this knowledge from them; surely, you’ve figured out that you’re the Heir by now—it’s what, three weeks into their experiment?
I give you a few more days before the scholars notice and inform the priestesses. ”
“I just want to graduate, avoid the infantry and the war, and return home.”
“So that’s it, you think that if you manage to keep it a secret, they will eventually let you leave Holyvere Academy, let you mosey on back to the human realm …
You do know you would be dooming us all to death?
Even Zenaida can’t handle another five years of Desolate Winter.
” The spirit crossed her arms. “They will never let any of you leave while the Heir has yet to be discovered; they can’t afford to. ”
“I am not the Heir,” she protested with a growl.
“You are, though. What is waiting for you back home that their promises of palaces and gold and fame aren’t enticing enough for you to come forward with your truth?”
Audra crossed her own arms, set her jaw.
“Is it love?”
She wasn’t going to give up. “Yes. My family needs me.”
“Countless families here need you. Would you condemn them? If you care for your family, you would reveal yourself to the Echoes, complete the prophetic ritual.”
“What does this have to do with my human family?”
“Isn’t it obvious? The human realm’s mild winters thus far are a fluke—they won’t be spared from the effects of Desolate Winter forever—and circumstances in the human realm will only deteriorate. Without magic, soon even your greenhouses won’t help feed the people of Khaveah.”
“But the Mist stops magic from entering Khaveah anyway.” Though she didn’t really know if that was true anymore, did she?
“The Vahisha, or as you so uninspiringly call it, the Mist, is a powerful spell, woven by hundreds of incramancers to contain magic within the fae realm—favorable for us, of course, more magic for us fae to play with, and beneficial to your humans as it slows down the effects of the Cycle. The summers aren’t as scorching, winters not as harsh—most Cycles, Khaveah avoids Desolate Winter altogether. ”
The spirit uncrossed her arms, her expression turning earnest. “Vahisha benefits both our realms—until it doesn’t.
Not even the Vahisha will protect Khaveah much longer; I would think there is another decade at most before the human realm ices over completely.
Not even the fae could survive temperatures that low. ”
Audra shook her head, her braids swaying. “This has nothing to do with me.”
The spirit sneered. “You selfish human, everything has to do with you playing your part.”
“Be quiet!” Audra slammed her hand on the sink. “Leave. Me. Alone.”
The spirit scholar’s expression became dark, angry, it opened its mouth to retort—but then, something shifted, anger turned into momentary frustration, then fear. The spirit turned and floated away, its translucent form leaving through the closed door.
Audra stared at the door for a moment, breathing heavy, waiting for the spirit to return, curse her, or call her selfish again. When she didn’t appear, Audra sank to the floor, placing her head in her hands, and finally, she relented, let the tears fall.
She hadn’t had time to process what had happened in the botanical conservatory, but now, she pictured that incra once more—how it had appeared unbidden in her mind’s eye, that dark urge to siphon Noel’s life, to take it for herself.
She had no doubt that if she hadn’t managed to rein it in, that darkness would have latched onto Noel, would have killed him.
She would have to make a decision soon, or it would be made for her.
Scholar Khari was probably already watching her closely, now that he knew she could do such difficult incras … and the way she’d failed today …
She was sure now that his extra attention was probably because he was suspicious of her, waiting for her to slip up, reveal herself as the Heir, which she’d done today in class—if he hadn’t been tending to Lottie at that exact moment, he would have seen her wither the plant, that darkness seeping out of her.
She wasn’t sure why, but she had the sudden urge to find Khari, to tell him everything—the spirits, the manifestation in the conservatory, the Aithne demon. He probably already knew—maybe he was just waiting for her to come forward …
But then she heard the Aithne demon’s voice as clearly as if he were sitting by her side.
There won’t be riches or fame—all that awaits you in this place is a violent death to satiate their eternal hunger. You won’t live to see the end of the semester.
That couldn’t be true … could it? Were the Veridian fae lying?
And then she remembered Margaryte—how even though Scholar Khari had saved Audra’s father back at the inn, even made sure the fire was put out before the inn burned up completely, and had been nothing but understanding while she struggled, sometimes even kind—he’d stepped aside and let the priestess order that soldier to put Margaryte down like she were a lame horse and thus, useless for their plans.
Any warm feelings she harbored for Scholar Khari … that rapport between them, the trust they’d built without her even realizing it … Her instincts warred inside her, and that was enough for her to hold off confiding in him, at least for another few days.
The trials were fast approaching; he would be too busy with them to watch her so closely. While all of Holyvere prepared for that, she would do her own research, she would find out what it truly meant to be the Veridians’ Cycle Heir … what the ritual actually contained.
The Aithne demon … Zhaire Rhaevon … he’d alluded to sacrifice. Archmagistra Syleste and the priestesses claimed honor, wealth, and fame …
If neither the Aithne demon nor the scholars could be trusted …
What, then, would one hopeful acolyte divulge to her initiate?
Audra climbed to her feet, washed her face, patted it dry with the towel. She had to find Twyla. But first, she glanced at her timepiece. Forgotten gods, midday meal was over, she hadn’t changed into her training costume, and she was meant to be on the sparring field in ten minutes.