Chapter 16 Taera
Taera
Iscramble to decide what’s most important, rather than blurt out the first questions that leap to mind. What is this place? Who created the Halls of Glass? How are they governed, or protected? How is it connected to the desert? But I have to be logical.
“How do the hallways change?” I ask.
“No one knows. They change when they feel like changing.” Nikolai shrugs. “If the Halls want you to get where you’re going, you’ll find your way.”
My escape plan falls to pieces. Swallowing, I ask, “How does anyone leave this place?”
“I won’t answer that.”
“You said you would answer three questions.” I glower. My only bargaining chip is refusing to take a bath, but I won’t give him anything for free.
He smirks. “I didn’t say which ones.”
“How dare you,” I hiss, quickly muttering, “not a question.”
Nikolai laughs, his green eyes glittering. “Now you’re getting it.”
I’m trying to keep a tight leash on my frustration—capping the rising panic. Not only is this place a maze, it’s constantly changing, and unpredictable. I rack my brain for what might help me make sense of it. Not that he’ll tell me.
“Why,” I say, controlling my voice, “did you tell those girls that we’re together?”
Nikolai’s smirk deepens. “Because as long as everyone sees you as my toy, no other conduit will touch you. My reputation will plug the rather glaring holes in your story.”
“I’m not a toy,” I snap. “And I’m not yours.”
“Does it matter?” He cocks his head to the side.
I stare at him, horrified. “Yes.”
One brow lifts. “You’d choose your pride over my protection?”
I hiss out a breath, but I don’t reply. Nikolai might have a point, but I’ll die before I admit it to him.
“Next you’ll be announcing to the entire class that you’re untrained,” he drawls. “While we’re at it, I’ll choose your third question.”
“No.” I glare up at him. He’s far too close. But again, I won’t back down. I hold his gaze even as it burns me, carving the high arches of his cheekbones and his sharp, straight nose into my mind forever.
“You’re my personal source. I could do a lot worse to you.” Green eyes flash, and his lips press into a line. “Now,” he says, “let’s talk about your face.”
“That isn’t even a question.” Embarrassed and enraged, I jerk my chin up. If blood glass could get inside this room, we’d be surrounded.
“Have you seen a single real face, here in the Halls?”
“No,” I mutter, even with the crawling suspicion I’m being led into a trap.
“Do you have any concept of how stupid it is to expose your true face? What they could do to you, to your village, your family?” He leans in, and I grow dizzy. But his words sink into me like ice.
“No one wants you here, Taera. You’re their new rival, their new prey. And do you know what illusionists do to someone stupid enough to reveal their face?”
Silence stretches. It’s unbearable.
I have to ask. “What?”
“They impersonate it. Wear it. Play a game to see who can take your place—who can slowly, meticulously destroy the lives of everyone you care about.”
Ezran.
Gramps.
My lungs stutter for breath, even after Nikolai pulls away.
“That’s why I gave you your face. Why you’re going to act like one of us.”
“I—” My words stick in my throat. “I didn’t know.”
He turns away, disappearing toward his bathing chambers. “I’m going to wash before you dirty the tub.”
One of us.
When he disappears, I sink to my knees. I wait for the sobs tangled inside of me to find their way out, but the relief doesn’t come.
I tremble—with fright, with fury, with hate—twisted so tight inside me they can’t escape.
The storm finally hardens into a throbbing ache.
The numbness of exhaustion takes over. I look down at myself, at my makeshift robes—torn from the bedsheets of the magician I hate. I have nothing left that belongs to me.
The warmed metal of the compass beneath my robes pierces through the fatigue.
I jump to my feet, pad over to Nikolai’s desk.
Hold my breath. I listen for running water.
Good. Slowly, slowly, I ease the bottom drawer open and place the compass in the exact spot I found it.
I slide the drawer shut and spring back like I’ve touched a snake.
I retreat to the opposite corner of the room, press a hand to my chest, slow my breathing.
I promised Nikolai I would stay put. Although he took liberties with his side of the bargain, I don’t dare do the same.
The world tingles white around the edges, reminding me I haven’t eaten in a day and a half.
I never returned for supper like I said I would.
For a brief, silly moment, I hope Ezran and Gramps didn’t overcook the turnips.
Then a dozen other worries fly through my head and I wrap my arms around myself.
I hope the swelling of Ezran’s ankle comes down, that it doesn’t become infected.
I pray he keeps going to school and stays away from the desert.
Lightheaded, I lower myself cross-legged in the furthest corner from the bed and lean against the wall. I only now notice my headache—or lack thereof. The faint, constant throbbing of the past months is gone. Dazed, I try to recall when the pain disappeared, but can’t.
Instead, I drag my weary thoughts back to the present and pick through Nikolai’s words.
How in the sands do I escape a changing labyrinth?
And him. Nikolai protected me from the other magicians, but why?
I know better than to trust an illusionist, or any of his explanations.
If he’s protecting me, why would he take me to a place so fraught with danger?
I glance around, woozy. I don’t have a plan, so I should at least pretend to be compliant until I come up with a better idea. I grimace. But I can’t have him suspect anything.
Am I really considering sleeping in his bedchambers?
Nikolai emerges a few minutes later, his golden curls damp and tousled. A new set of blue robes cling to his body, fitting him perfectly. I avert my gaze.
“Your turn,” he says.
It takes me a moment to remember I agreed to bathe, too. I should be feeling excited—feeling anything at all. I push to my feet, leaning against the wall.
My vision darkens and my limbs feel weak. I open my mouth, but bite my lip, not wanting to incur his wrath.
Nikolai glares at me. “What is it?”
“Will I… get anything to eat?” I ask.
He blinks, then frowns, raking a hand through his shimmering hair. “Sorry, yeah. I’ll find you something to sleep on as well,” he says, and a wave of exhaustion rolls over me. Not that I can let myself sleep here.
“Thank you,” I whisper. He opens the door, and something tumbles out of me: “I’m sorry about your sheets.”
Nikolai pauses, his lip twitching. “It’s fine.”
I steel myself. “Can I ask one more thing?”
Any hint of a smile disappears. “What?”
“My old clothes. I left a pouch in them, with a few coins,” I say quickly. “They may not have burned when they were… incinerated.”
“You think you can use that money to escape?”
There goes another half-baked plan.
“Gold is useless here in the Halls,” he says quietly.
Of course it is. I press my luck. “How long do I have to stay here?”
He sets his jaw. “Three and a half weeks.”