Chapter 17
CHAPTER
17
I glanced over my shoulder to make sure no one was watching. He shut the door behind him, but I caught it with my hand, slipping into the room quietly. When he didn’t hear the click of the door, he turned. He inhaled sharply, and I stood there staring in silence, unsure of who should speak first or what to say.
“What are you doing here?” His words were harsh and cold. Not what I had expected.
“I could ask you the same thing.”
“I knew you were lying about something, but I never imagined this,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief.
“What made you think I was lying to you?” I tried to think back on our time together. I thought I’d done a pretty decent job of avoiding anything misleading.
“Your hands. They’ve never seen a day of work, they’re too soft. Not to mention that purebred horse of yours costs more than a house.”
He sat down on the edge of the bed, resting his head against his hand in frustration. “Gods, I thought maybe a rebellious daughter of a wealthy noble, but not this. The daughter of a High Lord. I’m a fool.”
Why was that such a bad thing? My chest felt flustered with sad disappointment. He did not seem happy or relieved to see me in the slightest.
“I know we both lied, but is it possible we’re somehow lucky to be here together? I mean, I thought I’d never see you again,” I said shyly, trying to conceal my feelings as best I could.
Momentarily, I set aside my anger about his lies and the ever-expanding list of questions I had for him. I stepped toward him, and he flinched—physically recoiled from me.
“Cress, we aren’t lucky. This place might as well be a death sentence. There’s a reason they want us to cut ties with our former life.”
His assumptions were bleak. I don’t know that I could argue with them, but I couldn’t ignore feeling relief that a familiar face was here; his face. Everything about this place still felt unknown, but I felt safer just knowing he was here too.
“We have no idea what they might do if they knew we had known each other in that way…” his words trailed off, almost too ashamed to acknowledge the truth.
He sank his face into both hands, rubbing his palms against his temples. I crouched down to eye level with him and slowly reached my hand out, longing to console him, but again, he pulled away.
“How am I supposed to ignore the fact that you’re only a few doors down from me? I despise that you’re here. You were the last good thing from the life I left behind, and now I can’t even take solace in that.”
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, trying to hide the cracking in my voice.
My presence here had upset him. I couldn’t deny that the thought of him being mere steps away at night was going to be nearly impossible to ignore.
Trace finally looked up from his hands and I felt myself drowning in the green and brown flecks of his eyes, remembering all the times I had looked into them with deep, unwavering affection.
“Promise me you’ll do this my way. Just let me figure out exactly what’s going on here and if it’s safe or not. I want to protect you, protect us both. For now, we can act friendly, like acquaintances, but they cannot know our history.”
I didn’t know what else to do other than nod. I didn’t have the same concerns as Trace, but maybe I was being naive. It wouldn’t have been the first time.
“I’ll follow your lead, for now, but I have more questions and you will answer them,” I acquiesced.
“Later, I promise. When I can find somewhere safe for us to talk.”
He suddenly lifted his hand and ran his palm across my cheek, pushing aside a long piece of my hair to expose my ear. And the feather earring.
I tilted into the warmth of his hand against my skin, beginning to crave him in all the ways I could not act on. He ran his finger down the length of the black Nightwing feather and leaned in, resting his forehead against mine. “You’re going to be the death of me,” he rasped.
Everything in my body wanted to press my lips to his, but I knew if either of us crossed that line, there would be no coming back. Not after all the loss we’d faced, only to be gifted each other back in the strangest of circumstances. He pulled away from me to stand, and I did the same, feeling empty and unfulfilled.
“Please don’t wear that. It will only make this harder for me. And whatever you do, please work on your mental shields. I don’t trust these people; they’ll crawl inside your head and use anything they can against you.”
I wasn’t sure if it was all the years of Trace being a black cloak—whatever that was—or just paranoia, but he didn’t give much weight to Idris or Saryn saying these people were our new family. He was operating like they were quite the opposite. Trace peered out into the hallway, ensuring no one was watching, and urged me to make my exit.
I stopped briefly by my room and laid the earring down on a table next to my bed. I looked at it with far too much longing and hurt from being told to take it off. Shortly thereafter, I made my way back to the common room to find the others scattered about, lounging on couches—except for Nori, who was nowhere to be seen.
Varro was sitting in a far corner by himself, perusing a book, and I couldn’t stop myself from glaring anytime I looked in his direction. I sat down next to Gia, who appeared to be overcome with boredom, and Cairis, who was cleaning the underside of his nails with the tip of a dagger. It became apparent they hadn’t gone through our bags and removed any weapons, which was promising. A detail to later point out to Trace about why we should trust them. If they had wanted us unarmed, that might have been cause for concern.
“It’s a shame you’ll be missing your sister’s wedding,” Gia said with disinterest.
I turned my head in surprise. If I was being honest, I didn’t know anything about these people, well except for Trace and Varro’s father.
“How do you know about that?” I inquired.
“All the members of the High Court received invitations, did they not? My mother, being the absolute snob that she is, was gossiping to my father about it, despite their unwillingness to attend.”
“Does that mean you’re of Royal blood?” It was highly likely given the statement that they wouldn’t attend.
“Yes, not that it’s ever made a difference to me.”
I was relieved to hear her say it. It would have been a shame if the only person I had attempted to befriend so far had ended up being pointlessly judgmental.
“I think you’re the only Honored Fae here, anyway,” she added.
Suddenly Cairis chimed in, “I’m only a half-blood, so feel free to bucket me in with Cress.”
He shot me a smile of camaraderie. I grinned back at him, trying not to laugh at the obvious fact that he was entirely too large for the chair he was relaxing in.
“That must mean that Saryn and Idris are from Houses long disappeared since the war, if they were conscripted just like we were and yet none of us know them,” I hypothesized.
“Well, aren’t you the ever astute one,” Gia complimented dryly.
“I don’t care about any of that, I’m still curious about Saryn. You think he fucks as a female?” Cairis inquired crassly.
I could not believe the audacity of his foul-mouthed question. Gia rolled her eyes and I sat there, mouth agape.
“Wouldn’t you like to know!” Gia teased back playfully.
Cairis cocked his head, raising a curious eyebrow at us, indicating he was considering it.
I guess it was good to see that at least the three of us got along. Even if we were talking about our teacher like he was some piece of meat.
“I don’t think fucking the teacher is going to earn you any points, Cairis.”
My eyes widened at Gia’s equally inappropriate remark. What happened to propriety and etiquette? Was I the only one who hadn’t completely abandoned our upbringings in a matter of a day?
“You two have quite the mouths on you for being a Royal and a half-blood,” I pointed out jokingly.
“As far as I’m concerned, my lot has improved greatly since coming here. Guess I’m lucky that Lord Tiernan’s rugrats were too young for this spy stuff. Better than being stuck working long hours in the mines and being treated like a lowborn. I suppose it was finally convenient to acknowledge I was his son and seize the opportunity to be rid of me.”
The scars and bruises on Cairis finally made sense. He had certainly not grown up with a silver spoon in his mouth like the other sons and daughters of the court. I found his honesty refreshing. That, and I liked listening to him talk; his accent was like music to my ears.
“Where’s Nori?” I pried, seeing if anyone else had taken notice of her whereabouts.
“Quiet, that one is,” Cairis answered.
“She’s in her room,” Gia noted. “I get the feeling she’s in denial of being here.”
You can never be certain, with the graceful way Fae aged, but I had a hunch that Nori was the youngest of all of us. For a brief second, I felt almost protective of her, like an older sister. I considered seeking her out but settled on giving her some time and space to wrap her mind around this place. Who was I kidding? I still was, too; it wasn’t like I was going to have any sage advice to offer.
I continued to take awkward side glances in the direction of Varro, who seemed to take pleasure in acting like none of us were here. I felt guilty for holding his father against him, especially when I had no idea what role he had played, but one could imagine the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. I also disliked how he sought to incite Trace.
Then I heard his voice echo across the room in our direction. “Cress? That’s your name, right?” he asked, somehow sounding bored while still flipping the pages of his book with indifference.
“It’s very unbecoming to hold the crimes of my father against me when you don’t even know me.” I almost gasped at the intrusion. “And yes, it’s very easy to read your mind, even from a distance. You should work on that, or be brave enough to say those thoughts to my face.”
My cheeks flushed pink with embarrassment and Cairis let out a boisterous laugh. Before I could even pause to consider if my reaction would give away my loyalties, I marched angrily toward him.
“I’ll go ahead and give you a piece of my mind since you seem intent on prying. For someone who doesn’t want to be judged by their father’s actions, you’re quite the hypocrite given your remarks towards Trace.”
I had no idea what I was even really defending since I lacked the full context of their exchange from earlier, but Varro had had me fired up since I first laid eyes on him, and he’d done nothing but irk me with his arrogance since.
I’d made my way to his seat and hovered over him. He set the book down nonchalantly, giving me a modicum of his attention. Both Cairis and Gia had perked up in their seats, staring at the impending altercation.
“Do you even know who the Orni are?” he questioned me, and when I held my silence for too long, he proceeded, “Ahh, thought not. Well, let me educate you, Cress.” I hated the way he over-enunciated my name. I swallowed the lump in my throat.
“The Orni, or, as many call them, the black cloaks, are the things of nightmares. Those who encounter them don’t live to tell or see the light of day. They follow no laws, they have no decorum, and they will torture or kill whoever, as long as the price is right. Probably why the entire Wick family has always been Orni. They are all sick and twisted.”
The room fell into silent tension. No one spoke a word. Neither Cairis nor Gia’s expressions hinted at any sort of surprise, given the graveness of Varro’s words. I thanked the Gods that Trace hadn’t been in the room to hear these accusations, or Varro may have been without one of his well-defined limbs.
My mind wrestled with his words, trying to make sense of what he was implying. Trace was military…or at least, that’s what I had thought. I’d seen his vicious side firsthand with that gambler, but torture and senseless killing? I refused to accept that as being true. I’d never heard of the Orni or the black cloaks, and I was going to give Trace the benefit of the doubt until I could speak with him privately.
“And how would you happen to know so much about them if most don’t live to tell,” I spat back.
“Because they’re the ones who came for my father.”
I thought back to my own father’s words when he’d said they’d finally captured the barbarian and that he’d be tortured and imprisoned forever. Rightfully so, but still I shuddered at the thought of Trace, his father, brothers, or really anyone for that matter being the one to execute those orders.
That annoying humming feeling was back again. Low and steady, but I shoved it aside when Varro stood up in front of me angling his body into my personal space. He lifted his hand and gently moved a strand of my hair to the side, revealing my bare neck. He let out a humph and stepped away before I could reprimand him for touching me. He strode past Cairis and Gia, making his way to the dormitories, completely disengaging from any further conversation.
Utterly irritated by him, and now filled with even more questions for Trace, I’d had my fill of socializing.
“I’ll see you both at dinner,” I offered while passing them on the way back to my room. I needed to get my thoughts together in peace.