51
Bruises and Truths
Melody
Caryan shoves me hard and I land on the ground on all fours.
I spin around, ready to fight, even though I know I have no chance, my magic roaring when I find—
Aris.
His golden eyes are wide as he stares at me from where he’s standing on the edge of my bed. My hand is lifted, electricity already dancing there, ready to be unleashed.
“Melody. What happened?” he asks, because my upper body is still naked, and I have Caryan’s damn t-shirt clenched in my other hand for some absurd reason. Why?
I drop it, snarling to myself and pushing to my feet. “I’m okay, I think.”
“You think? What in the nine hells happened?” Aris asks again, and I know he can smell everything on me. Probably see the bruises from Caryan’s fingers already gracing my cheeks.
I turn away, stalking off toward the bathroom, but my hands are shaking when I turn on the faucet. “I slapped him,” I say finally, not believing it myself. But my palm still stings.
“You what?”
“I slapped Caryan in the face. Hells, Aris, I’m dead.”
“What did he do?”
The words bubble out while I wash my face in ice-cold water.
“He…we…we kind of slept with each other, but not really, and then I demanded that he bring me back here, but he just kept me and kissed me and bruised me and did this whole fucked-up thing he’s doing again, and I just…
flipped. I said no, but he ignored me. And I was terrified. ”
“You had every right to slap him, and he knows it,” Aris growls into my mind.
“Does he, Aris?”
“He does, because—” Aris grimaces because he clearly can’t speak the next words thanks to the dark coercion.
I grab a towel and start to rub my face dry, trying to ignore my reflection and the ugly bruises Caryan’s hand left.
I glance away, but Aris roars into my mind when he sees them properly in the light.
“He deserved it and worse. A kick to the balls would also have been appropriate to remind him who he is. A dinosaur like me and not some feral beast.”
“What? You think I should have kicked him in the groin?” I ask wide-eyed.
“The least you should have done,” Aris snaps, still furious.
I’ve never seen him this agitated in his baby form before.
His tail swishes restlessly, and his tiny golden ears go back and forth, his wings tucked in tight.
“Here, there’s a healing elixir. I brought one from Meanara just in case.
” He climbs onto a stool and gets the flacon from my desk before he pads back to me.
“Thank you,” I mumble, taking it from his jaw and opening the bottle before tilting it into my mouth. The effect is almost instant, and I’m healed, every ache and bruise gone. That stuff works for all minor aches.
“He wants me to find his brother, Aris,” I say at last, taking out the stone and putting it between us on the bed.
“Of course he does,” Aris says with a touch of sadness.
“But the acolyte warned me,” I say. “Warned me that the whole world would change.”
“Do you want it to change?” he asks, to my surprise.
“What?”
“Do you want the world to change?”
I frown. “I don’t know,” I answer truthfully. “Does it matter?”
He makes a gesture like a shrug, leathery wings ruffling. “It always comes down to choice in the end, Melody,” is all he says.
I roll my eyes and sigh, stretching out my long legs after plopping onto the bed. “Trust me. I’ve heard that before.”
“And it is true. You see, fate can only do so much. You still have your own choices you can make.”
My frown only deepens as I try to grasp what he’s trying to tell me. “So you’re saying that I could change fate when I don’t do what fate wants me to?”
“Meanara changed fate once.”
“And it was a good thing?”
“I think you need to ask her that, little one,” Aris says quietly.
A knock at the door startles me.
“Yes?” I call out.
I can’t help the small smile on my face when Faye opens the door, a similar smile on her heart-shaped face. She remains in the hallway.
“Hey, I quickly sorted out the translated manuscripts to hand them to Beeatrisa, and I still had time and thought I might come by for a visit before they lock our dorms.”
A shiver runs through me at the sheer idea of being locked away under a mountain.
I make myself snap out of staring at her because her aura tells me how uncomfortable she feels for being out here. But she came. Twice in a day. She actually left the archives, and my heart does a joyous somersault that helps me forget a little bit about Caryan.
“Sure. Wait, let me quickly change the wards so you can come in,” I say and jump up from the bed.
I put my hands against the sticky, cool feel of the wards and move my fingers like pulling threads apart and rearranging them anew. She watches me, her blue eyes flickering with curiosity.
“Here, come in,” I say, finally.
She enters shyly, rubbing her arms under her thick tunic. “You did this? Just changed the wards? I didn’t know you were adept in such things.” There is only surprise in her voice. And awe.
I shrug. “One of my talents, apparently. You know, half-blood and such.”
She frowns at the invisible wall of power, as if to feel the ward’s power, the pattern, and how tightly it is woven. Her eyes widen once again. “Those…I don’t know whether I have encountered wards that complicated before. Not even Professor Marryll can weave something like this.”
“Marryll?”
“Yeah, I’m sure you’ve seen her before. She’s not someone you miss easily. Gold hair. Light skin, impossible gray eyes. Mean gaze. Apparently, she’s the queen’s best friend. She’s also the professor for warding.”
“Sounds charming. Might be the professor whose class I’ve been skipping so far,” I mutter.
“You have? Warding is already on your curriculum? Ancient gods, Melody. You should go. She’s gonna make your last exam hells.”
I just shrug.
Faye’s shoulders slump as she blows out her breath. “I shouldn’t be mean, but if there is one person who really makes my life hard sometimes, it’s her.”
“Why is she allowed down in the archives?”
“She isn’t. She just keeps demanding every book she can possibly get her hands on.
Sometimes I have to dig up tomes for her that are dangerously deep in the archives.
It always scares the wits out of me when I have to go deeper.
The books don’t like her, but then she blames it on me if one snaps at her.
Tongues whisper she’s gathering information for the queen.
She’s eager to become seneschal, you know, once Beeatrisa’s gone.
” She shakes her head as if trying to get rid of Marryll.
“She’ll hate you if she learns that you can break through wards like those.
Would be fun to see her face once she learns, though. Who made them?”
“They’re Riven’s,” I say and quickly push aside some clothes so she can sit on my bed.
“Yeah. Any new…development on that front?”
My stomach squeezes and heat rushes to my face.
“Uh, that good?” she asks, biting back a grin.
I vigorously shake my head. “No, not like that. At all.” I draw in a sharp breath, chewing on my lower lip. Could I really tell her that Caryan and I…?
I glance at Aris, but he’s conveniently slid under my blanket, trying not to be noticed, and I think that’s because he wants me and Faye to have as much privacy as possible.
“You’re still in the room,” I argue.
“I am in your head several times a day because you forget to pull those shields up, so I do not think this should bother you,” he rumbles back.
Fair point.
“Caryan and I—we…” My mouth dries out. Hells, I don’t know where to start.
Her eyes widen. “The Dark Lord, you mean?”
“Yeah. We…”
“You slept with him?” she breathes.
I cringe. “He…we…he used his magic, not his body , if that makes any sense?”
“Wow, it does make sense, I guess,” she says slowly. Then her beautiful face scrunches up. “But given the prophecy, I guess what happened must feel…strange to you.”
Now it’s my turn to frown. Right. I haven’t really thought about that damn prophecy. But now, in the new light, it suddenly seems more important than ever.
I look at the deep-blue stone Caryan’s hellish brother gave me.
It’s suddenly, far too conveniently, sitting on the bed.
How is it that this damn stone moved itself from my pocket to the bed?
As if the damn thing is sentient and definitely wanting attention.
I suck in my lower lip while I wonder whether I could share any of my wild theories.
Ask Faye for her opinion about that strange acolyte down there, who warned me about that stone?
About the damn stone itself? And I should definitely warn her about that dark thing, or magic, or whatever’s dwelling down there.
I almost forgot, and that alone makes my stomach twist.
“Listen—” I lean forward and snatch her hand. “You shouldn’t go back down there—to the archives. Just tell Marryll no.”
“I can’t.”
“Yes, you can,” I insist.
“Why?” Faye’s remarkable eyes narrow, and I swallow.
“One time I went down there…” My grip tightens. “There was a dark kind of magic, Faye. It didn’t feel right. And now I’m worried about you.” I leave out the acolyte, not knowing how to explain the rest.
“Don’t be worried. We scribes are protected by the library,” she says with such calm certainty it makes my heart twist.
“Wait—” I start, following her gaze.
“Wow, that’s a beautiful stone.”
Before I can stop her, she’s already snatched it up.
The room starts to shake briefly before it gets calm again, and Faye stares at me in shock, then at the stone in her palm.
“What…was that?”
“Awkward as hells,” I offer.
“It might have been another earthquake. Since the rip so close to Avandal, they’ve become more frequent.”
“Probably an earthquake, yeah,” I say, taking the stone when she holds it out to me. I’m glad she’s not connecting her picking up the stone with the tremor.
“So you and he—are you together now?” she asks.
I let out a hollow laugh. “I don’t think Caryan does girlfriends,” I say, because hells, even thinking about it is hilarious.
“Right. Probably not, although I heard rumors that he and the queen…” Faye says.
My stupid heart clenches. It shouldn’t surprise me. Daphina is beautiful and alluring.
I shrug it off, though, and refuse to give in to the wish to open up that weird bond between him and me and ask that damn bastard about it.
“But maybe it’s just a silly rumor,” she offers kindly. “And Riven and you?”
I shrug again, then quickly stuff the damn stone into my pocket. “He gives me the cold shoulder. And I give him mine in return.”
To my relief, she doesn’t probe any further.
She finally looks around, instead, taking in my room.
Her gaze travels over the breathing ball under my blanket that’s Aris, and her smile widens before her eyes come to rest on my paintings, leaning against the wall.
They’re just sketches, really. Some I made when I had to wait for the wall colors to dry before I could keep working.
A sketch of Blair with a sword, her long hair flying around her body as she spins.
I already filled a few parts with color after I painted the foundation in the same chalky white as her hair.
“This…looks amazing,” Faye says quietly, stepping up to it.
Heat flushes my cheeks.
“Don’t be so embarrassed every time someone pays you a compliment,” Aris chides into my head. “You deserve it.”
“Not everyone can be as self-assured as you.”
“The perks that come with a long, long life. One doesn’t get so old without realizing how magnificent one is.”
“The next picture will be you. In your baby form. With eyebrows,” I tease, wriggling mine at him when he sticks out his head.
“Don’t you dare.”
I smile at him—or, well, at the bump in my blanket, his head having disappeared again—before turning back to Faye, who’s been watching us.
“I’ll never get used to your silent conversations,” she admits with a soft smile.
“It’s just because a certain demon can’t help listening in,” I say loudly, casting him another glance.
He rears his head, peeking out from under the sheets again, giving us puppy eyes—the portrait of innocence.
“It can be annoying at times,” I say to Faye.
Aris grumbles, and Faye laughs. Really laughs.
“I think it’s…fascinating. And adorable. I think I would love to have a bond like that. To a dragon.”
“Demon,” I say reflexively, at the same time Aris roars the word into my head. “Sorry. If I don’t say it, he will rant about that all night,” I explain, catching him rolling his eyes.
“You make me sound like a tyrant.”
“Well, you are one.”
“I’m just hungry.”
“You’re always hungry! Like Blair.”
“That’s our nature.” He slams the shields down between us and returns to sleeping.