Chapter 15 #2
Professor Thuvendial was a kind, older man. He practically lived out here in the conservatory, the humidity twisting his short gray hair into spirals.
“Welcome, welcome, dear girl,” he said, smiling so widely, his eyes vanished in the folds of his skin.
“Hello, professor,” I said.
I pulled my gloves off and released the clasp of my cloak. Quickly folding it, I shoved it in a small locker and retrieved my checklist.
My assignment for the last several lessons was to locate and complete a detailed description, sketch, and useful properties of each plant on my list.
I only had one left, and I’d already spent twice as long looking for it as it had taken me to find the previous twelve plants on the list.
If I couldn’t find it within the first fifteen minutes, I was giving up.
I took my binder and faced the vast array of flora before me.
The conservatory was enormous. The sound of trickling water always caught my attention as it was odd in such a frozen part of the world.
Plants of all sizes filled the room, splashes of red and purple, and a sea of green so dense that it was harder to see through than an early morning fog.
Ivy crawled up the branches of the trees; the trunks had knots and twists that made some parts impassable.
Thorn-covered vines twisted throughout, spilling into the paths that we’d tried to maintain.
The vibrant pink petals of a flowering bush dotted the path—a misleading visage at best, a deadly disguise at worst. Sometimes, I imagined the branches that hung over the paths growing as I watched, as if they could reach out and wrap their vines and branches around me and make me a part of their world.
“Do you always do your assignments on your own?”
I jumped at the voice and spun around.
Blake was there, a slight curve lifting the corner of his lips.
I raised an eyebrow. “Yes. This one happens to be a solo project.”
“Mind if I tag along?” he asked, the low tenor of his voice flowing like a warm wine.
I watched him skeptically, trying to figure out what he was up to.
“Sure.”
He followed me down one of the main paths, and I kept my eye peeled for a small flower that looked like a purple lily. I’d been up and down every path in the entire conservatory, though. I didn’t have much hope.
As we moved, we passed other students who were casting side glances. They were trying to be inconspicuous about their nosiness but were failing miserably.
“I’m not going to make any more enemies by being seen with you, am I?”
Blake shot them a look, and they disappeared. “I hope not. Unless you attack me, then my fan club may frown upon that.”
Sheesh, he wasn’t kidding. I gave him a sideways glare. “People here seem to be obsessed with you Aurkai.”
His jaw tightened. “Power always attracts attention.”
Disdain wrapped his words as his eyes narrowed briefly.
“Is that what you have? Power? Because of your family name?” I pressed.
He lifted the branch of a fern from the path, allowing me to slip past.
“Power is defined differently depending on who you ask,” he said, admiring a mature bonsai tree.
“Then how do you define it?”
He paused, considering my question. “To not have to answer to someone else—that is power. It is because of my family name that I do not have the freedom of choice.”
I frowned. “Then you’re right—we define it differently. To me, power is knowledge, and those without are but driftwood in the waves. Here, at Nightfall, you have power.”
“I suppose it is perspective then,” he said.
“That I’ll agree on,” I murmured. “The other Initiates seem to know something is strange here, and revel in the secrecy. Why aren’t they more irritated about it like I am?”
“You are more curious than they are,” Blake said, his voice quieting, “and intuitive.”
Everything around was vibrant with color and sounds that put me at ease, but none of it came close to the sound of his voice. Whatever it was, it was indeed power that he had over me.
“There’s something different about all of you. None of you get along. And I’ve never heard of Raven Falls, so you must be referring to a small village, or—”
Blake touched my shoulder.
“We are different in that we do not usually have a lot in common with Initiates. I have also known most of the others for some time now,” he said. “Our families have been acquainted for generations.”
“Is that how you met Melanie?” I asked before I could stop myself.
He tugged at my hand, turning us down a path that was overgrown with plants. I wouldn’t have noticed it if he hadn’t pulled me down it.
“We grew up together,” he said, “and it wasn’t meant to be. Come on, I want to show you something.”
He touched my waist, and a jolt went through my body.
Startled, I stopped trying to form articulate thoughts and followed him through a wilderness of plants.
When we finally got to an opening, I found that we were entirely secluded by a fountain with a small pond and tall flowering plants surrounded us.
“If you look closely, you will find your final flower hidden beneath the others,” he said.
I stared into the leaves and grass, not believing him at all. I moved closer, parted through the thickness of the growth, and gasped.
“It’s not bloomed,” I said. “I never considered that it would look different when it isn’t blooming.”
“Nightshades are tricky flowers,” Blake said.
“The image in the text is beautiful,” I said. “How did you know this was here?” I asked.
“Lots of aimless wandering.”
He sat on the bench, and I followed him. It was tranquil. I could’ve sat there for hours listening to the trickling of the water and smelling the sweetness of the plants.
“So can I expect this to be more frequent now?” I asked. “You being around more?”
Blake rested his head on his hand as he leaned on the bench and watched me. “So long as you prefer my company.”
I broke eye contact, feeling a flush overcoming my skin.
“I do,” I whispered, unable to look at him. “Prefer your company.”
I could feel him assessing me, questioning me with his entire being.
“But?” he asked.
Laughing nervously, I looked at him. “Why are you so close to Malakai? And why did he respond that night like an obedient dog?”
Confusion crossed his face like he didn’t recall what happened that night, but he dismissed it as quickly as it came.
“You ask many questions.”
“You avoid many questions,” I retorted.
We were caught in a tense battle of wills before he broke eye contact. “He has been my friend for many years. And I hardly treat him like a dog, but sometimes he crosses the line.”
“What line?” I asked. “I went to see him of my own accord.”
Blake soured, clearly not pleased to hear that.
“My interest in you was known,” he said, watching me for my reaction with his full attention.
The rush was overwhelming. I looked straight ahead at the flowers and took a breath. “You laid claim to me? What century is this?”
Blake laughed. “It is not like that.”
A crushing feeling seizing my chest. “Then what is it like?”
His joyful expression slipped. “It is just that I had mentioned you to him. Where we are from, it is in poor taste to pursue your friend’s interests.”
Interests? I laughed bashfully and looked away. “I suppose that’s how it is everywhere.”
I looked at the raven on his vest. “So the symbols on the uniforms—the raven; it’s a symbol of where you’re from—Raven Falls, right? The village no one’s heard of with the archaic dating rules?”
Amused, he watched me. “Yes. What else have you gleaned?”
“The dragon and the pegasus, these also represent places,” I said. “Places where the others are from. It’s why Malakai dislikes Caelan. It’s more than different lineages; you’re all from different places. But what do they have to do with the school?”
Blake bit his bottom lip briefly. “They are not different; however, as an Adept, most find that leaning toward one helps them with their chosen path here at Nightfall.”
“But what is the difference? Why would I choose one over the other?” I asked.
“You sound confident you will become an Adept.”
“You forget I’ve been around many of the Adepts. Especially in Raicanya when they help Caelan with training,” I said. “I have a feeling I’ll make it.”
A smirk formed on his face. “Careful, overconfidence could be your downfall.”
I scoffed playfully as I shaded parts of the closed, bulb-like lily in my sketch pad.
“What about seeing Malakai and Skyler together?” I asked, not looking over at him. “It was the last time I saw her.”
“Malakai has always been a licentious fool,” Blake muttered. “But not a murderer.”
“Quite a coincidence, then,” I said. “Whatever it is that he does, it’s like he’s controlling my mind or something.”
Blake’s countenance was like a weight as he cast his gaze on mine.
The words we left unspoken hung heavily between us, making the air harder to breathe. He watched me, his eyes no longer playful. I couldn’t move, and my heart pounded harder and harder. What was this?
A jolt of energy charged through me. His eyes widened.
He reached out, his fingertips barely touching my arm.
Nerves throughout my body were electrified, and I jumped to my feet, breaking our connection.
I moved to leave, but he rose from the bench and grabbed my wrist. I gasped as the rush of energy moved through me again.
“I want you to meet me,” he said, his voice commanding.
His nearness inflamed my entire body, and I couldn’t speak.
“Tomorrow night, East Skybridge,” he said.
When I nodded, he released my wrist, and I backed away.
I was panting, my heart beating painfully as my body pulsated with the intense energy of our exchange. I stared at him, desperately trying to read him, to understand what this was.
This felt different from what Malakai had done in our training session.
Blake had not done this intentionally. It was evident in how he watched me—stoic, observant, with a minute hint of awe in his expression.
My body ached from the surges in energy still zinging in my joints, building tension in my limbs, and seizing my chest as I tried desperately to catch my breath. Blake was not threatening, nor did I feel he was a danger to me in any way, but at that moment, I was terrified.
I was terrified of what was happening to me, terrified that it meant something more than I could handle, and terrified that it occurred in the presence of a near stranger.
But deep down, he didn’t feel like a stranger as he should have. His silver flecked eyes were comforting, like the blanket laid upon you as you drift to sleep; the kind that surrounded you, warding away the chill that keeps you from falling under sleep’s dark wave of dreams.
But I was not drowsy, nor did I want to dream.
Shockwaves of restless energy flooded my spine only abating long after I fled.