Chapter 10 #2
Retracing her steps, she made her way down the long corridor with tall windows set in stone arches on one side and bedroom doors on the other.
As she passed the dorm assigned to Gry, she saw his door was ajar.
Inside, he was sitting on a single bed, his bag beside him still untouched.
He looked far too big for the narrow white bed, his dark coloring stark against the whiteness of the room.
He was staring down at his hands and didn’t see éadha pause, peering in through the gap in the door, caught by something in the slope of his shoulders.
All the cool authority from earlier was gone, and now he just looked weary.
éadha was caught for a moment by a feeling of recognition.
Something in the way he seemed to be bracing himself, as if facing into something he wasn’t sure he could do.
But then she gave herself a shake. She’d nothing in common with some pampered First Family heir just because he hadn’t managed to pass as a Channeller and now he was facing a bit of snobbish embarrassment.
She needed to focus on what she’d come here to do.
She had to find Ionáin. As she moved on out of the dormitory building, she pushed down the thought of the Keeper’s Code nailed above her bed—No Keeper may visit a Channeller uninvited.
Ionáin wouldn’t care about any of that, not with her.
Outside all was quiet. Through an archway opposite she glimpsed an open space encircled by trees sloping down to the sea.
Out on the water, lights twinkled as sailboats made for Second Island, where the second-term apprentices lived and trained.
Its high cliffs were outlined black against the fading light while, to the south, she could just see the smaller shape of Domhain’s Eye.
But even in the quiet twilight she could find no trace of Ionáin’s thread.
Trying not to panic, she hurried back into the main building.
She peeped into empty classrooms with their rows of cushioned Channeller seats and plain Keeper pews sideways-on, slipped past high-ceilinged studios filled with blocks of marble ready to be channeled into fantastical shapes.
On and on she walked the polished, silent halls until, at the very farthest end, she reached another archway.
Stepping through, the towers of the Channellers’ quad soared above her, carved and turreted with stained-glass windows and balconies bound in metal spirals.
Chains of were-lights dangled from the walkways that crisscrossed the upper levels above the lawn.
Voices called from room to room through open windows, white curtains dipping in the sea breeze, bursts of laughter echoing around the green.
With a surge of relief, éadha picked up Ionáin’s thread in a building on the other side of the lawn.
Slipping across the grass, she peered into a firelit sitting room, the dancing flames reflected in the polished wooden floorboards covered with thick rugs.
Along the walls stood rosewood sideboards bearing silver trays and delicate crystal decanters while jewel-colored cushions were scattered in front of the fire.
To éadha, used to the shabby austerity of Ailm’s Keep, the room’s opulence was overwhelming: a barrage of color, texture, and light.
As she stared, Ionáin walked in chatting with Coll and Senan, his face bright.
They were followed by a man dressed in servant’s clothes carrying Ionáin’s pack, and instead of the relief she’d expected to feel, she felt a sudden anger.
He clearly wasn’t missing her in the slightest. She wondered if he’d even thought of her since that moment he’d taken his seat earlier on a red velvet chair.
She’d taken this enormous gamble so he could have his dream, yet he seemed to have forgotten her the minute he’d arrived here, like some young prince coming into his throne.
The next moment a heavy hand caught her by the shoulder. “Keeper, what are you doing here?”
It was Fiachna, looming over her, her tall frame belying the soundlessness with which she’d come up behind éadha.
“I…I was looking for Ionáin,” she stammered.
With grim satisfaction Fiachna said, “When you arrived on this island today, you entered the service of your Lords Channeller. You are forbidden access to the Channellers’ quad unless by their invitation.
Be thankful this is your first day, otherwise your punishment for breach of the Keeper’s Code would be severe. Return to your quarters at once.”
As they spoke, heads began appearing at windows, peering out to see where the noise was coming from. As quickly as she could, éadha escaped, away back through the stone tunnel. Her heart was still racing—with humiliation, with hurt, but more than any of that, with fear.
She hadn’t planned for this, had crossed the mountains and the sea to Lambay with a naive certainty she and Ionáin would be together—if not in the same room, at least nearby.
From Ionáin’s talk of a Masters’ House, she’d pictured it as another Ailm’s Keep.
But First House was something far greater, far heavier than that.
Not just the scale of it—huge though it was, many times the size of the Keep—or the thickness of the walls.
It was the power she could sense all around her, weighing her down.
Confusing her mind as she tried to find the link to Ionáin.
And if he was to be hidden so far away in the Channellers’ quad, if she’d no way of getting close to him when the time came and she needed to give him her powers, then her great gamble in coming here to this place was lost before a single die was thrown.