29. Polaris
29
POLARIS
D ays have passed since my first sigil class, but the bangles that render me powerless remain firmly in place. Sitting at the witches’ table in the dining hall, the plush velvet cushioned seat beneath me, I will them to disappear from existence, yet the desire only seems to make them feel tighter against my flesh.
Crossing my hands, I run my fingertips across each one as my eyelids close. I take a moment to focus on my breathing as I rack my brain, desperate to remember something from my past that will help lead me to my future. But nothing jumps to the forefront of my mind, and when I pry my eyes back open again, the bangles haven’t loosened an inch.
I sigh, sagging back in my seat with defeat as the world around me continues while I internally combust.
“What’s the matter, trash? Sad you’re not a vampire?”
A shiver runs down my spine at the sound of the deep, booming voice. His presence oozes around me, making it impossible to escape.
I don’t want to look, and I know I shouldn’t, but even as I think those words, my gaze tilts to his as he leans against the dining table beside me. The sneer curling his lip is filled with venom as his eyes narrow, watching his words poison the space between us.
“Go away, Blaze,” I mumble, instantly missing Bryony’s presence today. She’s been keeping her distance since I’ve barely said a word to her, but I can’t deny the fact that I miss having her around in times like this. But if she were here now, all I would do is try and hide behind her, and that’s not what I need. What I must do is learn to survive on my own and acknowledge that doesn’t always entail hiding away or plastering myself against the wall to make myself invisible.
Trouble seems to be looking for me, and whether I like it or not, I need to start addressing things head-on. Or try, at least. Without getting myself killed. That’s the most important part.
“Ah, so you have heard of me and my legacy,” he states, folding his arms over his chest with an air and regalness that I’ve never witnessed before.
What the fuck? His legacy? This guy thinks way too highly of himself.
I try to sink my teeth into my tongue to keep my mouth shut, but it seems once I decide to stand my ground, there’s no turning back. “If that’s what you’re calling it.” I look away, acutely aware of my cheeks heating under his intense stare, but the longer I look at him, the more they threaten to heat for another reason.
It’s not fair that someone so mean can simultaneously be so handsome. Imagine if his looks were tainted every time he was cruel. What would he look like then? I get the feeling he’d be unrecognizable.
“Look at me when I’m talking to you,” he snaps, and before I can turn to glare at him, his fingers clench around my jaw, forcing my eyes to meet his.
I can practically feel his fingerprints burning into my skin as his eyes bore into mine. The piercing blue pools darken to an almost navy as his jaw ticks. I want to scream and cry and run for my life, but it’s impossible with the hold he has on me.
Choking in a breath, I keep my gaze fixed on him as I speak. “Remove your hand from my face.” The words are slow, precise, and stronger than I feel, but he doesn’t relax his hold. All I see is his jaw clench tighter and his eyes ignite as he swipes his bottom lip along his teeth, making me gulp.
Maybe standing my ground was not the right thing to do.
Gulping, my skin tingles with panic, but I manage to keep my stare aimed at him until a voice booms from behind me.
“You can leave her alone now.”
Tatum.
I’d know that voice anywhere after our night in the forest. I haven’t really spoken to him since, but we’ve smiled in passing, each one reminding me of the moment we shared, the pain we unraveled.
“Ah, Tatum, I should have known two sad souls would find each other,” Blaze says with a grunt, his amusement diabolical as my pulse thunders in my ears.
“I still don’t see you leaving,” Tatum states, not reacting to his statement, and to my surprise, Blaze releases his hold on my chin, dropping his hand to his side as he stands from the table.
The amusement that tainted his words lingers in his eyes as he stares me down for a beat. “Catch you soon, P.” He pops the P like his life depends on it and I cringe, a shiver running down my spine as he saunters off without a backward glance.
It’s only when Tatum drops down into the chair beside me that I release a breath, only to inhale another as I take him in.
How have I gone from being consumed by one man to another in a completely different way? His long brown hair is braided back off his face before being secured in a bun today, and his brown eyes are wide, swirling with concern that I know is aimed my way, and I…like it.
I’m not saying he cares, but it almost feels like he might, and it’s a foreign experience. I like it nonetheless.
“Are you okay?”
Clearing my throat, I settle my eyes on his. “You didn’t have to do that, but thank you,” I breathe, feeling the smile take over my features as he offers me one in return.
“No problem. That’s what friends are for, right?” he states, tapping his fingers on the dining table as he assesses me.
“Is that what we are?” I ask, my breaths evening out with every pass as I find myself lost in his orbit.
He shrugs, his smile turning wry. “We’re two sad souls; it’s as if we have to be friends.”
I snicker, dropping my gaze to my lap. “Yeah, two sad souls on an express train to an untimely death. How fitting,” I muse, and he nods in agreement.
“Will I see you tonight?” he asks, lightening the conversation as I frown at him.
“Tonight?”
“At the fight,” he explains, and I feel my cheeks heat instantly.
“Oh, Wylder invited me to that the other day, but…” My words trail off as he sits, patiently waiting for me to explain without pushing me for answers. It’s refreshing to have someone wait for me to be ready. Clearing my throat, I try again. “Wylder invited me to watch him fight. I forget the name of the place, but he asked Bryony to take me, and she is my friend, or was, I guess. The one…”
“The member of the coven who made you sad,” he finishes, finding the words I can’t, and I’ve never been more thankful.
“Yeah,” I say with a nod, my gaze turning glossy as I look at him.
He stares right back at me, rubbing his lips together as he thinks. “Can I give you some advice?”
“Sure,” I murmur, unsure what he could possibly have to say.
“If I’ve learned anything, it’s that deciding what is important to you is one of the rare freedoms we get in this life. What you have to ask yourself in regards to your friend, and anyone else for that matter, is, did she violate those morals, or was she a bystander? From there, you must decide if her being a bystander is just as disappointing as being the instigator. Plus, did she know your boundaries before she broke them? Once you’ve figured that part out, you can decide how hard you want to punish her and yourself for it, but don’t stay hung up; that’s not worth your time.”
“That’s a lot of words. I feel like they only complicate it more,” I admit, my mind swirling, and he winks like he hasn’t left me in internal turmoil.
“I’d say you’re welcome, but we both know you’re not thankful. That’s generally the case when someone pushes you to think harder about a situation when all you want to do is bury your head in the sand,” he states, the grin on his lips comforting before he glances at the table in front of me. “Now, are you finishing that?” he asks, pointing to the remainder of my lunch.
“No.” There’s no way I can eat now with all these questions floating around in my mind.
He takes the sandwich without another word, biting at the corner I had taken a nibble from as he rises from his seat. After a quick salute with the sandwich in hand, he smirks. “See you tonight, Polaris.”
I gape at him in surprise. “I might not know how to get there,” I state, and he gives me a pointed look as he steps back from the table.
“We both know you will,” he says, a lot more confidently than I feel, before turning to leave me with my thoughts and an empty plate.
I lift my hand, panic, drop it to my side, and sigh. A set of motions I repeat three more times before I finally get a hold of myself and complete the final step: knocking. The noise thuds around me and I instantly regret it, stepping back in the hope of getting the hell out of here before the door opens, but it’s too late.
A whoosh of air follows the click of a latch before the person on the other side appears.
“Hey,” Bryony murmurs, linking her hands nervously in front of her as I blink, quickly remembering what I’m here for.
Clearing my throat, I stand tall, trying not to rock back on my heels as I speak. “I don’t like people trying to force me to do something…anything,” I reiterate, and she nods.
“Okay?”
“I don’t like people watching me suffer and doing nothing to help,” I add, guilt clouding her eyes as she nods again.
“Understandable.”
“And I don’t like having to second guess someone’s motives,” I explain, and she offers me a tight smile.
“Agreed.”
The silence stretches between us for a moment as I internally pat myself on the back for getting that off my chest. I also say a silent thank you to Tatum for giving me some important things to think about before I realize the hushed air between us is growing awkward because I’m stuck in my head.
“Those are my boundaries,” I clarify, my fingers twitching at my sides as I fight the desire to stuff my hand in my pocket and grab my coin to feel grounded.
“Those are some pretty strong and understandable boundaries if you ask me,” she replies, brushing her hair over her shoulder.
“They are in place for everyone,” I confirm, and a sad twinge nips at her mouth.
“And I broke them.”
“You did,” I answer honestly with a nod, and her head dips in defeat.
“I’m sorry.”
Has someone ever really apologized to me before? At Florentine’s, they didn’t care. You would follow their rules whether you like it or not, and the other students ignored me for the most part. Sian would be…Sian, and Terence…an ass, but an apology was never offered.
Was that because we didn’t recall what an apology entailed? Or is remorse not something we’re familiar with?
As products of our surroundings, were apologies hard to come by?
Maybe.
“There are no second chances after this. I might not have long left on this Earth with the blood kin curse in full force, and I don’t want to waste my time having to deal with unnecessary cunts,” I state, and she barks a laugh, shaking her head as humor dances in her eyes.
“I shouldn’t have taught you that word,” she mutters, making my cheeks burn as I try to hide my smile.
“You really shouldn’t have,” I admit, and she stands taller, unlocking her fingers as she pushes her door open wider.
“So we’re good?”
“As long as you respect my morals, then yeah.”
“Good, because we need to leave for the fight soon,” she says with a wide grin as she grabs my arm and tugs me inside.
“Wait,” I call out as the door closes behind me, and she stares at me in confusion. “Do you have boundaries?” I ask, needing to make sure I show her the same respect.
Her frown crinkles between her eyebrows as she shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe? I haven’t lived your life, Polaris. I don’t know what I hate or don’t, but if I figure any out, I’ll let you know, okay?”
“Okay,” I agree, and she’s back to tugging me farther into her room.
I’m surprised to find that the layout is exactly the same as mine. I wondered if Florentine students received different treatment, but it seems that’s not the case here. Her walls are a pastel pink, a floral bedspread matching the vibe, but she cuts past all of that to tug me toward the armoire, which is already open.
“So, let’s pick out something cute since there’s a wolf or two interested in my silver-haired bestie, yeah?” she asks, all but bouncing on the balls of her feet with excitement, and I pause, turning to face her head on.
“Uh, about that. How much time do we have?” I ask, running my fingers through the ends of my hair, and her smile turns cosmic as she excitedly releases a giggle.
“For you, all the time in the world.”