Chapter 42
forty-two
. . .
raea
Three hours later, Paxton, Aurora, Korē, Thriven, and I sit in the library that’s built into the cliff face over a glacial lake. Apparently, this is the safest place for the books to be. We spent the first hour touring the lava tubes and meeting with their officials and professors.
They all seemed extremely welcoming to me, but then again, I do represent the entire Treon kingdom.
Seeing their homes carved out like little caves with fire and sconces placed everywhere to illuminate the space felt oddly inviting.
They haven’t been able to implement modern touches like electricity or heat, but I kind of liked it.
The people who live here in the tubes wear thick linens and tunics made from animal skins to keep them warm.
Both men and women wear their hair long hair in various war braids or shaved short with tattoos covering their skin.
They all have glacier-blue eyes and shades of blonde or light brown hair.
Genetics is an amazing thing I’d love to study.
Their language is breathy and full and so beautiful. There’s something so familiar about it. I wonder if I’ve heard it spoken at the summit balls before? Or maybe at an event with my parents? Either way, the words settled over me and within me as if they were speaking to a deeper part of me.
“So what are we looking for?” Aurora asks as we take over the larger wooden table at the center of the room. She’s a rail-thin blonde in Intel Division. She’s really lovely.
“Well, I think we need to focus on their way of life. Their government and traditions are amazing, but it would just be too much for the time slot we’ve been given.” Not only is a report due, but we have to present it in front of the class.
The five of us break apart, each going in different directions to cover the shelves of books that line the walls of this massive space. I find a section on the furthest wall, reading the spines. I’ve never seen so many ancient texts before.
My fingers brush against the spines, amazed at their collection.
I stop on a large book, the text worn on the spine, and pull it off the shelf.
I blow off the dust before carefully opening the book.
It’s written in Elvisiah. Strokes of ink in various patterns and lines fill the pages.
It’s so pretty. Something whispers in me as I scan the page; the words fill my mind. It’s a children’s story.
The librarian passes by, halting to look at the text in my hands. Her peppered hair is braided into one long piece. Her clothes are held together with leather straps matching her boots, which are covered in what I think is rabbit fur and lashed with leather ties.
“Interesting,” she muses, coming to stand at my side.
Her eyes search my face before looking back at the open book.
“The Fable of the Primordial Orum,” she says with reverence in her voice.
“An ancient fate of two harbingers of light and dark. One day, the two shall engage in a war so bloody, only one will remain.” Her intense blue eyes meet mine.
And something twists in my stomach. I mask my face in na?ve interest.
“Why would the gods let that happen?” Fear settles in my bones.
If the gods were truly good, why would they create something so inherently dark?
The librarian tilts her head as if thinking whether or not she plans on answering. “The Primordials are all about balance, my young Princess.”
I nod.
Balance.
I understand.
She is my balance.
Light and shadows.
“On your feet, Raea,” Trysten says as he circles me later that night in the gym.
I roll to my stomach and push off, landing on my feet. A frustrated groan leaves my throat. “Why can’t I stay on my feet? What am I doing wrong?”
Trysten laughs. “You’re small. I’ve told you, use that to your advantage.” He stops moving and crosses his arms, daring me to argue with him.
“I’m not small, just vertically challenged,” I retort.
He laughs at me as he swings forward, knocking the air out of me with a punch to my ribs, hitting the Nakata corset that I’m training in tonight.
I’ll give him this: he doesn’t hold back, and he hasn’t turned on my energy shield.
Sparring with him has become more than routine. I actually enjoy it—I enjoy him.
“I’ve told you,” he starts. “Strike first, strike fast, and get away.”
I nod and take him by surprise when I slip past him and elbow him in the kidneys before kicking at the back of his knee. He manages to stumble instead of fall as he swings around, his fist coming fast at my face, but I launch out of the way just in time.
“Watch it,” I snap.
“Ooh, the feisty princess has come to play. I like it. You should get angry more often, Raea,” he taunts.
I step with my left and spin toward him, and my fist connects with his jaw. He just chuckles as his hand rubs the spot.
“You fight better when you’re angry. So get angry.” He punches for my ribs, but I sidestep him.
I groan. “But I’m not angry,” I say bitterly.
His responding smile is laced with knowing mischief. “Did you know that Sienna is only here to try and get closer to Ryker?”
He is taunting me. How he knows I despise her, I can’t fathom.
My sharp inhale gives me away. “Yes,” I bite out. “Pretty sure she’s made everyone aware of that fact.”
He’s circling me like prey. “Did Ry tell you that he’s the reason she’s in Taeolyn and not Veker with Cole?” Something ugly twists in my stomach. Jealousy. Always jealousy when it comes to her.
“He doesn’t even like her,” I snap. “Stop it!”
He shrugs as if this is amusing to him. “Maybe,” he says, but I attack, fed up with the taunting.
If he was trying to get me worked up, he succeeded. I can’t stand her. For the next few minutes, I allow my anger to build, fueling it with images of her hugging him and making her flirty comments; all of it makes the rage burn hotter.
Finally, I catch Trysten by surprise and knock his feet out from under him. He lands with a loud thud on the mat, and he groans. I drop my knee into his chest and give him a saccharine smile. I know that I’m boiling hot when a drop of his sweat hits my hand outstretched on the mat near his head.
“Anger is good,” Trysten grunts. “But that magic of yours, not so good.” He stands when I lift off of him. “You and Ry need to get that under control before you explode.”
I nod, chewing on my lip. I look down at my hands, shaking my head. This heat, I have no control. I know I don’t, but I can’t exactly ask for help. “I don’t know how.” I feel more on edge than I should. “I need to go. I need to cool off.”
“Good idea.” When I turn away, he stops me. “And Raea, Ry only put Sienna in Taeolyn so he could keep an eye on her. He doesn’t have feelings for her, never has.”
I don’t respond and just keep walking. I need to get to the river as quickly as possible.
“Who can tell me what the Treaty of Kenaf is?” Professor Isik asks.
The room is quiet. He looks around the room of juniors, and nobody raises a hand. I roll my eyes and lift mine. Tate chuckles beside me as I shoot him a playful glare.
“Princess Raea?” he asks as I send an elbow into Tate. It only makes him chuckle again.
“The Treaty of Kenaf is an agreement between all seven kingdoms to use the same calendar system. Isn’t that right, Tate?” I turn my head and smile. His chuckle ends, and his face falls.
“And why is that important?” Professor Isik prompts.
“Without the treaty, the kingdoms could use their own time and calendar system. In the first fifty years after the empire’s fall, the kingdoms operated independently.
Once trade agreements were in place, shipments were lagging, and there was no way to correctly track shipments between kingdoms. The Treaty of Kenaf allowed the kingdoms to use a universal system so that shipments were on time and, therefore, there were no breaches of contracts on trade agreements. ”
“Showoff,” Tate mutters.
“Very good,” Professor Isik says.
I sigh and sit back in my seat. Treon Kingdom was the one to initially draft the treaty. Had we not, there’s no telling how trade agreements could have succeeded.
All seventy-two planets must have been designed or subjected to magic because, since the veil went up, all the planets have the same length of days and weeks.
We know that planets used to have different lengths of days and years, but now, it’s just all the same, as if we’re all rotating on some invisible spoke.
For the rest of politics class, we learn about drafting our own trade agreements and how to give and take to get what we want.
Our assignment is to draft an agreement for something we want with another student.
Intel remains as boring as always, and we continue to learn about how to handle classified information and what to do if it’s ever leaked. How Kellan does this as his Division is beyond me.
As the day passes, I find myself constantly glancing outside the glass walls of the classroom, looking for Ryker. I hate that he isn’t at school. Instead of torturing myself, I pull out my Prism, hiding it behind my tablet, and message him when I drop into my seat.
Raea Tierson: Hey, I just wanted to check in and make sure everything was okay with you.
Anders Rykerson: All is well, Princess. Miss me?
I roll my eyes and scoff quietly, but I grin. I love teasing him. It’s become one of my favorite activities.
Raea Tierson: I’d have to actually like you to miss you.
Anders Rykerson: So you’re finally admitting you like me, then? Finally!! Princess Raea finally admits her feelings for me. I never thought I’d see the day.
Raea Tierson: How in the gods’ names did you come to that conclusion? I was merely checking in on you since I currently don’t have an escort. Nothing more. Kuron and Ezra are boring me.
Anders Rykerson: Well, your escort is fine. I needed to be here for something. I’ll tell you when I’m back. And in case you don’t know this… I do, in fact, miss you.
My cheeks heat, but I can’t fight off the grin that takes over my face. Gods, I have some big feelings for him.
Raea Tierson: …
Anders Rykerson: Don’t overthink it. You know how I feel.
Raea Tierson: Fine…I might miss you, but don’t let it go to your head. And how do you feel, Prince?
Anders Rykerson: I suppose I’ll have to remind you when I get back. ;)
Professor Trygg, my Aeronautics professor, clears his throat from the front of the class, crossing his arms over his chest. “Raea.” He tilts his lips like he’s caught me finally. “Care to elaborate on the design dynamics of the transport pods?”
I clear my throat and put my Prism down quietly. For once, Tate is the one to save me by whispering where we are.
“Yes, the transport pods use a combination of older technology and newer anti-gravity technology. The transport pods have two fans located at the back, which are used for steering, while the anti-gravity system keeps them hovering, allowing the pods to travel anywhere on the planet. The glass dome allows for the air to glide right over it, with the aerodynamics keeping it low-energy.”
Professor Trygg hums like he’s upset he didn’t catch me off-guard, and I whisper my thanks to Tate as he goes back to explaining why we no longer use aircraft with blades.
“Listen up, class. Today we will be learning about the eight different types of transports,” Professor Brendn says a few days later in Sky Division.
The fine hair on my neck and arms stands, and the air buzzes to life around me. My scalp prickles as I turn and find blue and silver eyes looking back at me. My heart leaps involuntarily.
I am not in love with him, I just like him…a lot. But, gods, those blue eyes and those lips. He smirks as if reading my thoughts and makes his way over to us.
My body should not be responding this way, but then again, the last time I saw him, I was literally rubbing myself all over him. Then he confessed he’d been dreaming about us. I clear my throat, rubbing my palms over my pants. It’s so damn hot in here.
“The school transports are the smallest of the fleet—” Professor Brendn’s voice fades as the ripples of electricity drown him out. Colors flood the edges of my vision, and I have to roll out my shoulders.
“Princess,” I feel his breath on my ear like a full-body caress. I keep my face forward while my lips curl into a full grin.
“I thought you weren’t going to be back until tonight?” I ask.
He sits beside me, and the heat from his body surrounds me.
“Also, aren’t you supposed to be in Aeronautics right now?”
“I didn’t see the point in staying. Plus,” he leans closer. His lips barely brush the shell of my ear, and my body goes crazy. “I missed you. And I’m ditching Aeronautics.”
I close my eyes and press my lips closed, sealing in the gasp that threatens to escape. He should not be doing this during class. I reach my right hand over to him, linking it with his under the desk.
Energy surges between us, and I’m drowning in him. I don’t let go, though. Neither does he. We both breathe erratically, consumed by the spiraling energy and vibrant colors of our Bond.
Okay…fine, I more than just ‘like’ him.
The power subsides, becoming more manageable after a minute or so, and I can open my eyes. Ryker chuckles low so only I can hear. I smile again. He missed me. Ciara and Tate are hiding their own chuckles at my side. I want to glare at them, but that would attract more attention.
My grip tightens, my arm protesting the lingering connection. When I let go, I take a deep breath, willing my emotions to subside. After class, he tells me to clear my schedule for the night because he’s taking me on a date.