Chapter Five
FIVE
I knew I would not be accepted well by the students of Valmora Academy.
I walked in here prepared to face their taunts, their anger, their pain at the loss of their friends and family being sacrificed to dark magic.
I knew deep down their hatred was misplaced and believed that I would find a way to prove it if it was the last thing I did.
What I did not expect was the academy’s deep well of ancient magic rejecting me as well.
Even the stones reject you.
Bartollo calls me back to the dais. With heavy feet I climb the steps and find myself standing before him once again. Stars, his presence is overwhelming.
‘As you witnessed,’ he announces to the remaining crowd, ‘neither Malachite, Opal, nor Agate accepted Miss Nocthare this night. But that does not mean they won’t change their minds.’
What? My eyes widen as a minuscule amount of hope blooms in my chest.
‘It is not often a circumstance such as this occurs, but it is known to have happened where a student’s heart and mind don’t know where they truly wish to be. The stones themselves will not accept them until the student’s truth is known.’
Is that what could have happened?
Part of me wished to be in Opal once. But now I need to be in Malachite, and Agate … well, Agate was my last resort if those two didn’t work out. Is that my problem? The fact that my mind and heart are torn on where to go?
‘Miss Nocthare.’ Headmaster Zain finally faces me, turning his back to the crowd.
‘You were not chosen by any unit, but my words ring true: the ultimate decision lies within you. I will place you in a unit of your choosing until your magic manifests, giving you a clearer indication of where you belong.’
‘And if it doesn’t?’ I dare to ask, because what if it never does? What if I’m as useless as my father’s told me a hundred times?
‘Then you will find no place for yourself here, and you will be forced to leave.’
Not asked. Forced.
A deep wave of resignation threatens to take me under.
I can still feel the weight of eyes on my back and the rejection that stung each time I wasn’t pulled through the gates.
The memory of my mother on her knees in our living room plays behind my eyes.
The way she cried for days on end, and how my father’s strong arms wound around her like a vice each time she succumbed to the grief.
The way they comforted each other, while I sat alone in my bedroom feeling like my heart had been ripped from my chest. I cried alone.
I grieved alone and now I stand here, still alone.
My only company is the promise my father had me make to him.
It sits heavy, wound tight around my ribs, putting pressure on my lungs so that I may never forget it.
It wasn’t a promise that I found hard to agree to because I want the same thing he does. I want to restore our family name. But where he wants me to succeed at the academy, I want to vindicate my brother.
‘You said I get to choose which unit I’ll be placed in?’ I confirm.
Bartollo’s head dips in agreement.
I turn. My eyes scan over the three archways and the coloured stones smeared with students’ blood. My blood, on each of them.
When my eyes land on Malachite’s gate, they can’t help but flick to the brooding man standing before it.
I recall Sebastian’s smug expression when his unit did not accept me.
As if he knew I wasn’t good enough, as if he were expecting it.
I feel a flare of rage. How dare he! How dare he treat me like that when I have done nothing wrong.
How dare he turn his back on my brother, his best friend.
We welcomed him into our home, fed him, cared for him, even gave him presents on Solstice, because he was considered part of the family.
For him to treat me like this, like I am nothing …
My gaze returns to the headmaster in front of me, my resignation swallowed up by determination as I state clear and loud. ‘I choose Malachite.’
‘Very w—’
‘No!’ A harsh bark interrupts Headmaster Zain. People gasp from behind me. Even I find myself reeling back a fraction.
The headmaster’s head snaps toward Sebastian who, as Tilly pointed out earlier, looks like he’s about to burst a blood vessel. Headmaster Zain simply raises a hand, silencing the room with the gesture.
‘Do you have something to say, Unit Leader?’ His question sounds more like a warning but Sebastian either doesn’t notice it, or he doesn’t care.
‘This is wrong! She wasn’t chosen. She cannot just walk into Malachite without earning her way in. She’s …’ he looks at me a moment, his green eyes roam down my body then shoot back up to my face. A sneer tugs at his lips. ‘Undeserving.’
Ouch.
‘Undeserving or not, the decision is not yours to make. Escort Miss Nocthare through Malachite’s door so she can get acquainted with the rest of the unit and her chambers.’
‘What if I refuse?’
How is this the same person who offered me comfort when my father tore me apart? The more he speaks, the angrier I become.
‘Refuse and I’ll find someone else to take your place as unit leader. Escort your new acolyte. Now!’
If Sebastian hadn’t just spoken about me like I’m worth nothing, I’d feel pity for the way he’s being spoken to. Especially because the one threatening to take his position away is his own grandfather. But I don’t feel anything. I won’t.
Not now. Not after he’s shown where his loyalty lies.
Sebastian’s teeth clench so tight I can see the muscles working in his jaw. He shakes his head and turns to face the archway.
‘Move, acolyte.’ I hear him growl.
I’m beginning to hate that word the more I hear him call me it.
Eager to get this over with and remove myself from this damn dais, I walk toward him once again, pushing my shoulders back and holding my chin high. When I reach him, I try to keep as much distance between our bodies as possible as I wait for him to somehow let me through.
‘You’re going to wish you never chose Malachite,’ he snarls, seconds before he raises one hand to send a searing burst of fire into the stone. I don’t even have time to flinch away as the heat of the flame licks my skin. He uses his other hand to push me forward with a hard shove.
A yelp is ripped from my throat. My arms rise defensively to cover my face as I anticipate diving headfirst into a stone wall and losing half my teeth. But instead, my body feels like it’s being pulled in several directions before I eventually fall.
The first thing I register is my kneecaps meeting a concrete floor. They land with a sickening thud, shooting sharp pain down my shins. I cry out, my hands only just reaching out in time to stop myself from face planting. The hand that Headmaster Zain sliced open throbs as I put pressure on it.
I bite my tongue against the curse threatening to spill from them. If it weren’t for the chorus of laughs that have me freezing on the spot, I would roll over and lift the thin fabric of my robes to check my knees aren’t already bruised or disfigured.
Instead, I lift my head to find a dozen faces sneering down at me. A handful of them I recognise as the students that were just accepted into Malachite; their grey robes are a stark contrast to the clothing the others have on, a myriad of dark green form-fitting shirts and black trousers.
Quickly – well, as quickly as my aching knees allow – I push myself to my feet.
‘You shouldn’t be in here, Nocthare,’ a deep-skinned girl dressed in green, warns me, light glinting off the silver bars pierced through her eyebrows. She straightens from the red armchair she was propped up against and walks past, not sparing me another glance.
‘She’s no Malachite,’ I hear someone sneer near the back of the room, where a wall of bookshelves stands proudly all the way up to the dark ceiling.
Another person steps forward, pushing his way to the front of the crowd. His nostrils flare as he stalks over, and he makes sure to get himself right up in my face. He’s huge. Tall and imposing, with shoulders so wide his dark green shirt looks like it’s struggling to stretch over them.
He’s terrifying, I realise. His eyes are so dark, I can barely make out the pupil in the centre of them. Somewhere to my left, a fireplace crackles and the sconces on the wall reflect flames into his eyes, which glare at me with murderous intent.
‘Who the fuck do you think you are?’ His giant hands fist the front of my robes, bringing us eye to eye.
My breath gets caught somewhere in my throat.
‘Do you know what your brother did? Do you know the friends he took from us?’ he spits through gritted teeth, his voice vibrating with barely contained rage.
‘My brother – didn’t do anything,’ I bite back, pushing at his chest in an attempt to put some space between us. It’s fruitless.
That was also the wrong thing to say. Shouts rise around us, people begin to throw insults like the ones I heard back in the Grand Hall, but all I can focus on is the behemoth in front of me, tightening his fists. Using my own robes to cut off my air supply.
‘Fucking liar!’ he screams, shaking me like a ragdoll. My teeth clatter.
‘Get. Off. Me.’ I use my nails to dig into the flesh at his hands, hoping he’ll relent and let go, but it’s as if he doesn’t feel a thing because he only squeezes tighter.
My throat goes dry. My legs start to kick, uselessly; all memories of self-defence Lukas taught me time and time again are being washed away by panic.
I try to reach forward and grab onto his face, but all I manage to do is smear my blood over his shoulder and neck, unable to find purchase.
He’s just so much bigger than me.
‘I’ll kill you,’ he snarls.
I believe him.
He’ll kill me, right now, in front of them all. Because no one is stepping in to help. No one says a thing. My vision starts to blur at the corners of my eyes, my arms feel heavy – in fact, my entire body feels heavy and exhausted.
My arms fall limp at my sides. Everything goes black.