Chapter 14
Chapter fourteen
The rest of the day is pretty uneventful.
Finnley and I sit through Ruins and Wards together with matching thousand-yard stares. I wasn’t able to join Mallory and Mayline in Apothecary, one of the few mixed classes where Veils and Noctryns attend together. There was a slight mix-up in my schedule that had to be adjusted.
I use the term mixed lightly, as the latter sits on one side and the Veils on the other.
The rest of our classes were canceled for the day due to the Blood Initiation Ceremony, which is the formal name for our commencement ceremony.
The final step in pledging our lives and powers to Salaryan.
No one but those who have already experienced it knows exactly what to expect during the ritual beyond the obvious.
Blood will be taken from each first-year.
It’s a big event at Kintoira Academy, and all the upperclassmen are supposed to attend in full battle gear.
I’m guessing that’s some kind of way to dress formally for the event, but that hasn’t been confirmed.
After we swear fealty by blood, we are fully locked in.
Forever indebted to the realm.
Servants for battle.
I glance down at myself. The gray uniform hangs loosely and unflattering on my frame.
I look about as threatening as a midge, probably less dangerous.
The woman staring back at me looks so young with her wide-angled eyes full of hesitation and hope.
How can I look one way but feel an entirely different way?
I feel so much older than what my reflection offers.
My hands remain steady as I smooth down the front of my shirt before sliding my arms into the coal-colored robe. I carefully pull the hood up and over my head. The door shuts quietly behind me, and the only sound heard is the lock clicking into place.
Can’t be too careful these days. They may not trust me, but I don’t trust them either.
I make my way down the hall, flittering between passing students and keeping my eyes averted.
I told Finnley and Mallory that I’d meet them in the main lobby, and we could walk to the ceremonial hall together.
I was able to see Ambrose during lunch, but his attention was diverted in multiple directions by people in his bracket.
It’s like someone always needs him for something, a problem always needs to be resolved, and he’s the only one who can do it.
I won’t be able to see him again before the ceremony.
He’s in his officer’s class now, and they never get released early. Ever.
I was hoping to have a little more time with him without distractions, but it doesn’t seem to be on today’s agenda.
Same story, different day.
The stairwell is tight as I squeeze through students coming and going. I keep my head down as I shuffle through them. As soon as my feet hit the landing, I make my way to the far corner of the foyer and sink into an antique-looking chair lined with awful green velvet fabric.
I lower my head into my hands and stare at the ground. Nerves dance in my stomach like butterflies taking flight. Once I give my blood, the remainder of my life is no longer mine. It belongs to the realm until the day my body becomes dirt. Probably even after that.
That’s a heavy commitment.
Although, to be honest, it’s too late in the game to change my mind now anyway. Not that I would, but to have the choice off the table is a little daunting.
The heavy steel doors to my left swing open, allowing students to step through, along with the breath of the bitter cold.
A handful of Noctryns make their way over to the hearth to warm their hands, causing two Veils standing in front of the flames to turn up their noses and retreat down the hall.
They must be coming in from field training to bear witness to our pledge.
I tuck my head back down and stare at my feet, tapping them in rhythm to the loud tempo of the heartbeat echoing in my ears. A dark pair of armored legs comes into view, followed by an exaggerated sigh.
“You’d make a shit spy, Caderyn,” Makon mocks in a disappointed voice.
I don’t even have to look up to know it’s him. Only one person can sound that instigating with a simple sentence.
“And you make a shit mind reader. It should be blaringly obvious that I want to be left alone,” I counter in an annoyed tone.
He taps his helmet against his leg, causing the metal to clink together. “Well, considering I can’t read minds, it would make sense I didn’t know,” he says dryly. “And considering you’re staring at the floor, I certainly can’t read any social cues you might be giving off,” he adds.
I lift my head and meet his amused expression.
“I guess I just assumed since your brother could, that you could as well,” I answer sardonically. “Read minds that is.”
He nods his head in a sympathetic gesture of understanding. It’s clearly brimming with mockery. “Well, you know what they say about assumptions. Besides, there’s a lot Kingston does that most of us cannot or will not do.” At my confused expression, he continues, “The cost is too high.”
Without another word, he turns to leave as if the conversation is done. I don’t know why, but I don’t want it to be finished. I want to know more about his brooding brother.
Color me surprised as well.
“So are you guys twins or something? Fraternal, possibly?” I ask.
He turns back around, tilting his head, a slight grin playing along his lips. “Yes and no.”
“Care to explain?”
“No,” he answers flatly. But his eyes don’t match his tone. They’re filled with mirth and mayhem.
It’s odd how similar the brothers are to each other, but also strikingly different.
Same dark hair, complexion, and menacing good looks, but that’s about where the similarities end.
Where Makon is feral, spontaneous, and impulsive, his brother is rigid, cold, and calculating.
They certainly don’t act like twins, but they are in the same year at the academy, so, they’re close in age if not born on the same day.
My attention is diverted from Makon and directed toward the stairs where Finnley and Mallory are making their way down, arms waving in unison in my direction.
So much for remaining discreet.
The Noctryns idling by the hearth are suddenly invested as well, looking from my friends’ flailing arms back to me. Their eyes are filled with contempt, but I don’t miss the lingering curiosity as well.
“That’s my cue. See you at the ceremony,” Makon says as he tips his head in my direction, walking away, his helmet gripped loosely in his hand.
Mallory is all but dragging Finnley across the lobby toward me.
He rolls his eyes but makes no move to stop her.
I’ve noticed he humors her a lot. Her hair is in the usual style she favors, but bright blonde today, almost silver.
Her delicate features are covered in heavy smoky makeup, giving her the appearance of a Gothic queen.
“We’re about to be legit,” she shrieks in a high-pitched tone, jumping up and down while hanging onto Finnley’s arm. His body follows suit like a puppet on strings.
“I’ve never met anyone so excited to donate their blood,” Finnley says in a dry tone.
I quirk a brow in her direction. “Especially when they have no idea just how much we’re obligated to give.”
She stops bouncing and drops his arm, staring at both of us. “Way to ruin the excitement,” she states before a scowl settles over her face. Life is like a big celebration for her. She finds the positive in everything.
Leave it to me to disillusion her.
There is only black and white in life. No in-between. Which is rather ironic, I know, considering I’m fully clothed in shades of gray and labeled as a Liminal.
I stand up, securing my hood back in place, and follow a sulking Mallory.
Finnley gives me a wink before falling into step next to me. The atmosphere is thick with anticipation of the unknown. Students move in unison toward the ceremonial hall, setting the pace for what’s to come.
The passageway stretches long, and the stone walls are lined with antique looking candelabras.
The flames flicker restlessly, highlighting the soot-covered pictures of old families and long-forgotten professors that decorate the walls.
Our footsteps echo against the rough stones, a steady rhythm made soft by being swallowed by vaulted ceilings.
The air is heavy. Scented wax, anxiety and something slightly metallic surround us. It feels as if the hallway itself is watching, waiting.
I keep my face forward. Every breath I take feels forced and full of tension, the kind that makes you feel like throwing up.
Voices and laughter echo off the walls as we enter through the double doors into a ginormous chamber.
Mallory gasps, and I can’t blame her. It is breathtaking.
It’s three times the size of the dining hall.
If I could sum up the vibe in minimal words, it would be Gothic grandeur.
The floor is made of polished onyx marble.
Rows upon rows of dark mahogany pews fill each side of the room.
A large wooden dais sits in the center with a dramatic backdrop of dozens of lanterns hanging from the ceiling, amber flames flickering within.
Forty bronze-trimmed armchairs fit across the dais with room to spare. That’s how massive it is.
Another nice touch is the hundreds of candles scattered throughout, adding to the mysteriously romantic vibe. It’s like a vampire’s wet dream.
The pews are filling up fast as we make our way down the center aisle and head toward the armchairs. Multiple seats are already taken by the time we climb the few steps and choose three chairs next to each other.
Finley sits down heavily and begins tapping his fingers along the armrest. “Well, this is cozy,” he drawls.
A soft laugh slips free. I’m thankful for him trying to break the tension we all feel.