Chapter 31 Taera
Taera
“Why are you so upset?” he demands.
It’s ridiculous to argue while holding hands. “I’m not upset.”
“False.”
I curse the truth-chiming marble, now bouncing along the ceiling. If only I could reach it. Smash it.
“Your magic is out of control,” he growls.
“Well, I’m sorry I haven’t been trained,” I bite out. “Whose fault could that be?”
“I’m telling you, calm the fuck down, Taera.” He’s glaring at me, making me feel wretched all over again.
I’m the one who’s too emotional? He created all my problems to begin with. “Maybe you shouldn’t have dragged me into all of this!”
“What did I do to make you so angry?” he grits out.
“Why do you always think everything’s about you?” I blurt. “You’re so full of it.”
“Is this because of Jezebel?”
“No,” I hiss.
“False.” The desert-cursed marble.
My hand actually jolts against Nikolai, and I yank my arm away from him.
I regret the decision as soon as my skin starts to crawl, thousands of tiny skittering legs.
Furious, I seize his hand again, and the collision makes both of us stiffen sharply.
Nikolai hisses out a string of curses, but the current quiets.
“Why are you angry?” Exasperation laces his tone.
I stare at him, frazzled, exhausted, overwhelmed. How can he not understand the grief he’s caused me? He’s impossible, infuriating, insolent…
“I’m stuck here,” I mutter. “Wherever here is, waiting to learn magic—which you haven’t taught me anything about—while you and everyone else run around playing kooky games and pawing at each other.”
“You’re the one who wanted to join the glass games.” His voice is low, threatening.
“To find a way out of this place,” I snap.
The maddening marble doesn’t deny it. Shame and anger swarm me. I feel idiotic, with my foolish plans laid bare.
Nikolai is silent.
“You’re not leaving the Halls,” he says finally. “The sooner you accept that, the better.”
I stare at him, raw, burning. “I’ve been threatened, tortured, lied to… and you think I’m just going to stay here? Willingly?”
Nikolai sighs. I glare at him.
“Let’s sit,” he says.
I’m reluctant to give him anything he wants, but my legs are also tired from walking and running atop hard glass for hours. The exertion felt good, but now I’m completely drained.
“Fine.”
We sit on the bed, our backs propped up against the headboard, as far apart as we can reasonably sit while still touching. Nikolai lowers his free hand to his lap, where the pale leather-bound book appears. He flips it open.
“Are you serious?” I hiss. “You’re going to ignore me like you do in class?”
Nikolai scowls but sets the book aside. “What do you want? I don’t particularly feel like listening to how you hate everything about me and about magic.”
I bristle, still wanting to argue. “I don’t hate everything about it.”
He snorts. “You’ve been quite convincing to the contrary.”
I resent that he’s right—that I can’t just scream at him if I want him to tell me anything. It rationally makes some sense but feels brutally unfair given everything he’s done to me.
We sit in strained silence, and I take a couple deep breaths. The fire in my belly cools, leaving only the dull ache of homesickness.
“Thanks for calming down,” he says quietly.
Through my teeth, I make myself mutter, “It isn’t… entirely your fault that I’m stuck here.”
“False.”
He sighs. “The marble’s right. It is my fault that you’re here. But you are safer here than if the sandsmugglers get you.”
“Is it really too dangerous to leave?” I ask.
“Yes.” He looks sorry. But he’s lied to me before.
This time, however, the marble is silent.
I swallow. “How long do I have to stay? How long does it actually take to learn magic?”
“If you commit yourself, and start from first year…” He grimaces. “Three years.”
The marble doesn’t deny it. It’s like a punch to the chest.
“If you work your ass off, maybe only two years,” he adds.
The hopelessness swells, but I cut it off before it drowns me. I don’t have time to be emotional—not when I’m finally getting answers.
Another question claws at me. “It hurts when anyone else touches me. Why not with you?”
“Because I’m doing all the work,” he says. “And because you want to touch me.”
“I do not,” I retort.
“False.”
I cringe, miserable. Nikolai’s lips twitch, but he doesn’t comment.
“You aren’t trying to fight me when I channel your magic,” he adds. “You’re curious.”
“That’s it?”
“I modulate it for you, not taking too much at once,” he says. A pulse flickers between our palms, tingling, and I inhale sharply.
But my brow furrows. “Why don’t other magicians just do that?”
He shrugs. “Most of them can’t.”
“Why can you?”
His mouth hardens. “It’s personal.”
I want to press, but he might explain more to me if I don’t. I try to skirt the topic, a skill I never thought I’d need. “You seem like… a big deal around here.”
“I’m powerful,” he replies. “Plenty of sources want a taste of my magic.”
“Modest, too.” I huff.
He flashes the smirk I’m coming to know well, then turns serious. “Conduits will fight over you, too, once you get a handle on your power.”
I give a sharp laugh. “I’ve had enough of mages fighting over me for a lifetime.”
He chuckles.
It should be horrifying, to joke about how he kidnapped me, but after the events of today, this conversation feels surprisingly calm.
Nikolai’s expression dips. “You don’t have to tell me, but what upset you so much in the labyrinth?”
My shoulders sag. I ponder it, but see no reason to lie.
If anything, I want him to know what he’s put me through.
“I guess, things were starting to seem less insane. But then I remembered how crazy this place is. Not just the Halls, but the magicians.” I’m rambling, but saying it out loud loosens something in me.
He doesn’t seem to take offense. “What’s crazy about us?”
“Aside from all the glass and illusions everywhere? The faces? The things you consider clothes? Everyone acts as though all the magic—all of this is normal. Even kissing, apparently.”
His cat ears perk up. “People don’t kiss where you’re from?”
“They don’t kiss strangers,” I mutter.
“We’re hardly strangers,” he drawls, eyes dancing.
I can’t help it. I laugh. “I’ve known you for a week. Since you captured me.”
“Saved you,” he says.
I shake my head. Even if he thinks it’s the truth, the Halls of Glass are in no way safe.
“Did you want me to?” he asks.
“Capture me?” I scoff.
“Kiss you. In the labyrinth.”
My breath stutters, and I stare furiously down, studying the crease in the sheets. “Of course not.”
“False.”
My cheeks flame. “That’s not true.”
“False.”
Nikolai laughs.
Embarrassment engulfs me, and my hand prickles against his. Silence thickens the air and I wish I would sink through the bed and disappear. When I sneak a glance at him, he seems infuriatingly at ease.
He smirks. “So you aren’t immune to my charms.”
“I didn’t say that,” I say carefully, glaring at the marble.
“Good to know.” Nikolai chuckles. “So… it bothers you how normal it is for a magician to kiss someone.”
“Exactly.” We’re finally talking about something that makes sense.
“You’re right,” he murmurs. “I don’t think much of a kiss.”
“Filla seemed quite keen,” I mumble, my cheeks still hot.
“That’s on her.” He tilts his head to the side. “I would have preferred to kiss you, if you’d wanted me to.”
No “false” follows his words, and my head spins. I forget how to breathe.
I clear my throat. “But you wouldn’t think much of it.”
“I’d enjoy it, but a kiss wouldn’t mean as much to me as I suspect it would mean to you.”
“It’s not like I’ve never been kissed…” I mutter.
“False.”
Blushing deeper, I shut my mouth and keep it closed. It’s better this way. Who knew I was so full of lies? I’m no better than these magicians. The thought fills me with shame.
Nikolai continues, unperturbed. “I’ve kissed a lot of people. Guys, girls, other folks. It isn’t always romantic. It’s more about power.”
I blink at him a few times. Nikolai has kissed guys? And what does he mean by “other folks”? Magicians like Omi? I try not to focus on how I’m in Nikolai’s bed, how our hands are touching, and we’re talking about kissing.
“It seems like you have your pick.” My voice comes out a bit breathy.
“I do.” He shrugs, his tone infuriatingly nonchalant.
I should probably change the direction of the conversation, but my curiosity drives me onward. Who knows what information could be important?
“Why does everyone here behave so… intimately?” I ask.
Nikolai gives me a funny look. In a measured voice, he says, “You know that a large part of illusion magic is sex magic, right?”
“Sex magic?” The words tumble out in a strangled squeak. I can’t believe I just said those two words out loud. Together.
“Yes, Taera.” His chuckle curls warm at the edges. “I’m an illusionist. I can make you see anything, feel anything you can imagine. That sort of power lends itself to pleasure.”
“Pleasure,” I echo dumbly, my heart stumbling along. I’m extremely aware of my damp palm that’s squeezing his hand too hard, and I loosen my grasp a little—trying to make it seem natural.
“A lot of illusionists make their fortunes as high-end whores,” he murmurs. “Although they don’t teach those skills here… explicitly, at least.”
“The way students talk about you…” I mumble. “That’s… what you’re known for?”
He assesses me carefully. “Yes.”
I gulp. What would my mother say, if she could see me sitting on the bed of an illusionist who practices sex magic?
The bed.
Oh, desert.
I leap to my feet, pulling away from him as I stumble away from the mattress. I can’t believe I sat on his bed—ate breakfast on this bed. I wrapped myself in his sheets.
I sway on my feet, the onslaught of itching distracting me enough to keep me from toppling over.
“Taera?” Nikolai is already beside me, his hand out. I take it to steady myself, but I feel nauseous staring at him, at where we were sitting.