Chapter 16 Under the Dome Shaped Glass
Under the Dome Shaped Glass
ANNA
The East Skybridge was at the top of the highest tower in the main castle. I moved quickly through the empty corridors, hoping to avoid unintended meetings.
As I got closer to the skybridge, my heart beat faster.
There was something about Blake—the way he’d barely touched me and made some crazy spell come over me.
I wanted it to be him who helped me solve the mystery of what happened that night, because the prospect of seeking answers from Malakai twisted my stomach.
As I climbed the narrow steps of the East Tower, my gait slowed, and my heart raced. My face burned, and I stopped for a moment and closed my eyes.
It wasn’t just Blake; it was all the Aurkai—they were different.
But Blake, in particular, had an effect on me that I couldn’t deny.
Was this lust?
He was heartbreakingly handsome.
I took a deep breath.
Perhaps it was a little bit of lust but couple it with whatever the hell I was missing about these people, and it made it nearly impossible to think around him.
I groaned inwardly and continued up the steps, my hand trailing the outside wall of the tower as I spiraled to the top.
When I finally reached the upper landing, I found an open-air archway leading to the sky bridge. The lanterns flickered in the wind, their light glowing within the covered area beyond the archway. Beyond that, the bridge stretched out high over the grounds, with the starry night sky overhead.
Blake was there, leaning against the stone railing, the glow of the lantern casting half of his face into shadow. With a subtle shift of his head, his gaze settled on me. My entire body tensed.
A strong wind caught my hair, wrapping me with a chill that had little to do with the cold.
I bit my lip and took several steps toward him, the stone bridge grounding me as my heart pounded.
“You came,” Blake said, his body relaxed and his voice a smooth baritone that exuded such warmth it quelled my mounting anxiety.
Something was drawing me to him beyond my curiosity and desperation to know the truth about that night and my mother’s past—something that was inextricably about him. It was as if this connection between us were tangible threads drawing me to him.
“You can feel it, can you not?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, but I could feel each vibration as if he were speaking to me within my mind.
I swallowed hard.
“What is it?” I whispered, my voice trembling. “What’s happening?”
Blake smiled softly.
It felt like the entire night sky around me was holding its breath. This inability to identify this intensity was killing me. Blake watched me, the glowing light glinting across his features. There was a hint of pity in the way his eyes narrowed, as if he could sense my discomfort.
“Come with me,” he said. “There is something I want to show you.”
We crossed the sky bridge in silence. I followed at his side, one step behind him, calming my nerves. The feeling I got around him was so intense I could hardly speak. I needed to breathe.
Aurkai or not, he was still a man.
Right?
When we arrived at the Celestial Observances Tower, I was nervous when I realized how high we were.
“I’ve never been up here before,” I said as Blake opened the heavy wooden door.
During my lessons, we used the observation decks and lecture halls, but the upper viewing area was off-limits to Initiates.
“Come on,” he said.
I stepped inside, impressed as I took in the circular chamber. Golden sconces lined the marble columns, their flickering light reflecting off the polished stone walls, but the roof took my breath away.
In the dome-shaped glass overhead, the night sky stretched vast and endless.
The glass amplified the view, like I could reach out and touch a star.
The Milky Way sprawled across the cosmos in a shimmering river of stardust, and beyond it, swaying bands of jade and purple moved like waves through the northern sky.
A massive telescope, an ornate piece made of brass and carved wood, loomed in the center of the room. Walkways curved around the chamber, leading to the upper levels, lined with bookshelves and charts of the night sky.
Taking my hand, Blake led me up the pathway to the upper deck.
I couldn’t look away. It was endless, its beauty so mesmerizing that I barely noticed the jolt that shot through me at his touch.
Blake led me to an observation area with cushioned seating, adorned with a plush rug and pillows.
He sat down and lay back, gazing above at the celestial heavens.
As the shock of the tower’s private observation room waned, I studied Blake. He was relaxed; unlike that night in the Aurkai Wing when he’d found me with Ezreal Kalmont.
“Why did you bring me here?” I asked.
Blake’s gaze flicked to mine, curious and observant.
“I wanted to speak with you alone.”
My body braced for what might come next.
He sat up, gesturing to the seat beside him. I lowered myself into the corner of the cushions, angling my body toward him.
His expression hardened, becoming unreadable. “I looked into the student you mentioned—Annabelle.”
Dread threaded through my mind. “And?”
“She didn’t die as a recruit or Initiate,” Blake said, his voice low. “She went missing as an Adept—about twenty years ago.”
The words hit me harder than I expected. “What?” I whispered.
He shook his head. “That is all I found. There is no record of what happened to her. No reports. No body. They never found her.”
A wave of nausea hit me and broke our connection.
I looked to the endless stars above, but they felt colder. Distant.
The silence between us stretched as the aurora danced, its eerie glow casting shifting patterns across the polished stone.
This unsettled me at my core. After figuring out how dangerous it was to enter and the sickness one might face after, it made sense to think that was what had happened to Annabelle.
My mom must’ve been so scared, losing a close friend like that. I’d not been particularly close to Cody or Skylar, but that feeling of not knowing—it must’ve been hell.
My eyes stung as I quickly wiped at them. Guilt bore down on me, memories of how poorly I’d treated her flashing through my mind. I never once considered how she felt or what might’ve happened to cause her pain.
“I’m sorry,” I muttered, wiping the tears. “I wasn’t expecting that.”
Blake was watching the sky, giving me my space. “Grief is not something to feel shame for. It is a gift we must all bear proudly.”
Blake’s words struck me at my core. A man who was accepting of vulnerability. Derrick was practically the opposite of this. My resolve to contain my emotions cracked. Blake looked at me, startled by the sob I couldn’t hold back, before his expression broke into a soft look of understanding.
“She was my mom’s best friend here,” I said. “My mom was murdered a few years ago. That’s why I’m here. I want to know what happened to her.”
Blake glanced at me, his face somber. He reached out and touched my cheek, wiping tears from my skin.
“My mother once told me that grief is not meant to be shut away,” he said. “It is how we go on.”
Fresh tears sprang to my eyes as I watched him. Go on? The idea of moving on sounded ridiculous. How do you go on with what I had?
His hand on my back startled me, but his other hand pressing my cheek against his chest is what made me stop breathing.
It was possible my heart might have stopped, and those would have been the last few moments of my life.
Not a bad way to go.
Though I’m sure dead Anna would be pretty pissed off about it.
His heart was beating against my ear, and his arms wrapped around me in an embrace that made my body automatically relax.
His touch was like a key that unlocked an inner ward within me. Everything I’d been holding in escaped.
He held me there, his arms strong and stabilizing, my head under his chin.
I cried against his chest harder than I had done since that night.
The pain and suffering that I’d let build within me crept out, but there was something else flowing from deep within, too—a joy I didn’t know I could feel anymore.
Something that made me laugh through my tears and smile while I was drowning in grief.
And as I realized it, all I could think about was how he’d never be able to wear this shirt again.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
“You never need to thank me,” he said. “Nightfall is not an easy place to get used to.”
The contact was soothing in ways I didn’t know existed.
He pulled me close to him and lay with me there on the plush cushions of the observation deck. The lanterns dimmed around us.
Soon, the rise and fall of his chest against my back convinced me he wasn’t going anywhere.
Sleep had delivered its invitation in the form of his body resting against mine.
Waves of sleep slowly crashed upon the shores of my mind.
I rested my hand against his arm, which was draped over my hip.
I felt like nothing could touch me in this moment; like nothing in the world could ever hurt me.
We were awakened the next day by the voices of a few Adepts coming in at dawn to do their coursework. I sat bolt upright in utter panic.
They were as shocked as I was, and I was hyper-aware of what it looked like. One whispered to the other, shaking her head, while the other stifled a giggle, but it was cut short when they caught sight of Blake.
The moment they recognized him as one of the Aurkai, their expressions changed to one of fear. They left abruptly, not waiting around to hear what Blake had to say.
Embarrassed and unsure what to say, I stood up and muttered a thank you as Blake watched me, his hair tousled in such a way that it looked like it’d been styled that way.
I took my time going back to the dorm, grabbing a muffin from the dining hall. On my way out, a few Initiates watched me, looking away quickly when I glanced at them.