Chapter 15
Fifteen
I contemplate touching it. The dull purple rune etched on white wood. I wonder if it would light up for me. I wonder if it would burn.
Tomorrow is the winter solstice. When this tree was supposed to light up and sing. It sits silent now, sleeping or dead. My magic flickers behind that first door with lithe flames. I bet the spirits would eviscerate my soul if I burned down their tree.
I don’t want to do that, though.
I want to do worse.
My palm slaps into my forehead as I bow my head and shake it. Trying to clear those fluttering thoughts that leave a train of smoke and ashes within my mind. Whispering words that are not mine.
I shake my head again before stepping back from the tree.
Jullia is waiting for me. She’s upstairs in the formal ballroom where tomorrow’s party will be.
A winter’s masquerade solstice is the theme and Jullia, and even Hanna, have been fussing with the whole thing all week.
While I’ve been training with Darian – basically getting ate out – they’ve been preparing their dresses and masks and accessories.
The whole school has gone a bit all out for it.
Everyone buzzing with chatter about the theme and the games and prizes and who will have the best outfit.
Jullia asked if I wanted to go. Asher went all out by decorating the gazebo and bringing her there to ask her.
Even Hanna had a thing done for her when that spooky woodland shifter asked her.
No one has asked me.
I cluck my tongue at myself as I turn and start heading for the stairs. None of them have even spoken to me since Monday.
Callahan still runs and works out with me in the morning – and he has walked me to all of my classes and sits next to me at breakfast, lunch, and dinner – but he hasn’t said a word. To me at least. He’ll answer and speak with Asher and everyone else.
Jullia has given me looks about it but hasn’t said anything – yet. I’m being given the silent treatment because I followed Darian five days ago and I continue to see him. Callahan had been leaning against the wall of Stone House Monday night and walked me back to my dorm after I had woken up.
His nostrils flared, he ground his teeth, he fisted his hands, but he didn’t say a single word.
On Tuesday night when I met Darian he had fresh bruises and cuts all over his body. When my eyes marked each wound he tisked at me, pushed me against a wall, and held my wrists above my head by white wisping ribbons before beginning.
Halfway through, right before he began the actual training by touching my bare skin, he told me to focus on my breaths as well as keep a lock on my magic.
Apparently Monday night I caused another electrical storm, though thankfully it had been further into the Hinterwood Forest so no one was hurt.
I had forgotten about the effects of my lust on my magic and Tuesday night an earthquake rattled the entirety of the eastern field, the training arena, and all the society houses.
Darian had given me a sly look before stopping, saying he was going to check out what happened just in case it was the rebels again. That’s what everyone had thought because of the magnitude of it. Thankfully, Darian said nothing about it when he came back and we finished. Or at least I finished.
All week I’ve been able to stay conscious through and after the ordeal. I’ll end up passing out eventually because of the exhaustion, but at least I remain conscious through the pain. It’s progress, even if I still can’t move, speak, or do anything.
It’s also helped with my cramps. I’ve felt nothing yesterday or today and I doubt I’ll feel anything tomorrow.
Tonight Darian wants to try touching my skin before getting me off, though, and I don’t know if I’m ready to start that whole process.
I’m worried I’m already dependent on the pleasure before the pain.
All of this, of course, is something I have not told Jullia about yet.
She knows I’ve done things with Darian – because our mixed scent and sex doesn’t lie – but like with my other fated she doesn’t know why.
I’d rather they all think I’m some sort of slut than explain.
Not that Jullia thinks I’m a slut, she’s just curious about why I’m doing things with Darian instead of my four other fated. The guys probably do though.
I finish climbing the stairs and turn down a wide hallway that leads to the ballroom. It’s already decorated with tapestries and streamers and floating snowflakes. Along the banisters are faux icicles and a sheet of frost covers the walls.
A sense of déjà vu hits as I walk down the plush red carpet that leads to the open doors of the ballroom. The slight heel of my boots silent as the overlapping panels of my maxi dress softly swish. It’s one of my favorite outfits you can shift for any of the seasons.
For example, over the V neck and inch thick sleeves that make up the top half, I wear a thick knitted sweater that’s slightly fitted around my chest and stomach, but the sleeves are billowy before cuffing around my wrists.
With my boots it keeps me just warm enough that I’m not freezingly uncomfortable, but everything is breathable enough that it doesn’t make my scars itch.
I love winter. Winter is the only time my scars don’t ache.
My comfort with my outfit, however, does not stave off the feeling of a timeline overlapping or a memory playing in the back of my mind that is not mine. More so than just the memories and knowledge playing from whichever vampyr’s blood I drank.
Inaudible whispers murmur and for a moment the setting changes. The decorations around the room shift and instead of the open doorway to the ballroom being mostly empty, I see couples dance. Men in suits from an age ago and women in long gowns, all with elaborate masks and different auras.
I take a step and it’s like moving through smoke. The air rippling around me as I approach the large doorway.
Get over it, Moassi! It’s been a decade and so far everything has gone as it should.
I turn and near a small alcove are two bodies shrouded in shadows. There’s a small stone fountain carved into the wall and a set of stairs that spiral down on one side of it with a set that spirals up on the other side. Right behind two people hidden by shadows and still whispering.
Junbee, do not snap at me –
I will do as I please because you are holding onto the past when there is only now and the future to think about.
Aora and Genifer are dead. Orpheus killed Azai and this school has still prospered.
Aiyvalorra is gone – forgotten except for her name and primordial status.
And Sanivin. . . we can all just say she’s dead.
I take a step towards that alcove and unlock that fourth door to feel for their blood. Maybe I can trace it and their aura, even within this dream-state realm that must be between time of the past, present, and future.
You cannot just brush off –
I will, she snaps. A female with a darker, sultrier voice.
Both of them young, but the male – boy – I’d say is somewhere around my age from his voice.
Tomorrow is winter solstice and the Willow of Lore ceremony.
It will mark exactly ten years since the willow was created and exactly one millennium since that pr –
She cuts off mid-word and her aura coils tightly around her like a viper about to strike.
My invisible fingers trying to feel her blood within her veins, but like with her aura I cannot feel exacts.
She has blood and aura, same with the guy, but I cannot scent anything or feel exact magics or gain an internal image of what they are.
Someone is listening, the female murmurs. Then with a bit of amusement, Someone who is not meant to be here.
I am meant to be wherever I please.
And somehow, without being able to see her, I know she curls her lips up and reveals a hint of her fangs.
You are meant to be nothing, she whispers, and for some reason it jars me. So much truth in those six words.
I blink.
I’m staring at a smooth wall now. The same smooth wall I had seen that is decorated with frost. No alcove in sight, no whispers, no feeling of blood and aura that I can’t touch.
“Mavyn?”
I snap my head over to Jullia hesitating at the doorway. She’s dressed in fitted jeans, a knit sweater, and knee high boots. Her curly hair pulled up in a strategically messy bun and her glasses hanging lower on the bridge of her nose.
“You good. . . ?” she draws out. Her lavender eyes glancing at the section of wall I had been staring at. “You’d been staring at nothing for a couple minutes and Hanna said you didn’t respond when she called your name.”
Oh. Shit.
I shake my head and wave my hand in the space between us. “Lost in thought, sorry.” I start walking over to her with a neutral expression, but hers narrows.
“You murmured something after I said your name the first time.”
I wince and round her body to enter the ballroom.
“Just babbling,” I try as I slow to a stop staring at the ballroom.
Drapes and curtains line the ceiling surrounding the giant chandelier in the middle.
A mural past them being shown through the slivers of space between the fabrics.
Snowflakes and icicles hang below them like they do down the hall.
Jullia grumbles behind me. “I am meant to be wherever I please,” she repeats. “That doesn’t sound like babbling. Not when your voice didn’t sound exactly like your own.”
I continue observing the space. The columns surrounding the oval room have carvings up and down them, with the dance floor right below the chandelier with an ornamental floor that outlines where the dance floor ends.
The outer reaches of the room full with tables at certain heights so people can sit and dine or stand with their drinks.