Chapter 62 Taera
Taera
Nikolai is in an excellent mood when we leave the exam room. The rest of the class is gathered outside, gossiping about how their exams went. When we reappear, everyone wants to know what happened behind that door.
“Leave them guessing,” Nikolai murmurs to me, clasping my hand and leading a path through. It isn’t hard; the crowd parts around us. Omi gives me a tentative smile, which I return with my own, along with a nod. Their smile widens.
Nikolai whistles on the way back to his chambers, holding open the door with a courtly bow of his head.
“Congratulations,” he says softly. “You’ve secured your place here beyond any doubt.”
I shy away from his praise, still giddy from the rush of magic. Glancing around, I smile. Who would have guessed I’d ever find Nikolai’s rooms so familiar?
“I guess we’re stuck together for a bit longer, then.” I laugh a little awkwardly.
“Now that you’ve proven yourself, they’re obligated to offer you a bed in the dorms.” He smiles. “You don’t even need my sponsorship anymore. You’re officially a fourth-year student.”
“Oh.”
This is what I wanted. A stone lifts from my chest. Except, I’ve grown rather comfortable with that stone. I’ve grown fond of my little mat in the corner of Nikolai’s chambers.
He studies my face and frowns. “You don’t have to worry. The dorms are protected; there are all sorts of safeguards in place.”
“Thanks,” I say. I’m too embarrassed to correct him. Nikolai’s ego is large enough without me telling him I rather like sharing his room.
I clear my throat. “When should I go?”
“We can sort that out tomorrow.” He winks. “Unless you’re opposed to spending one more night with me?”
Heat floods my cheeks, and I try to change the subject. “Do you want to celebrate with the others?”
“We will.” He grins. “That begins in a few hours.”
“What do we do now?”
“Whatever you like. I have some work to do.” He ambles over to his desk before smirking at me. “Want to come with me to the party tonight?”
“Okay,” I say. He’s not even touching me anymore, and he still makes my breath quicken. I make myself cross to my mat and pick up my textbook to seem occupied.
“Can I dress you?” His smile is positively wicked.
“If you want to,” I stammer, my heart thudding in my chest. He just grins back.
“We’ll head out at sundown,” he murmurs.
I’m completely unable to concentrate. After a half-hour of pretending to read, I give in and decide to take a long, relaxing bath. I deserve something nice, after everything, and the idea of going out to celebrate with Nikolai has me jittery.
We trade chambers after I’ve soaked in as much serenity as I can. While Nikolai is bathing, I work through my exercises. They still seem pointless, but there’s a soothing rhythm to them.
The sun is setting outside the window, painting the desert red, when Nikolai appears.
He’s wearing all black… only, the blackness flickers. The longer I stare, the more I make out the aching red of dying embers. His golden hair disobeys the light when the sunset catches it by shining black. It confuses me, which I try to focus on, because the rest of him is staggeringly gorgeous.
“This is for you.” He holds out what looks to be a shadow draped over his hand. Excitement dances up my arms as I reach for it, and I’m surprised by my own reaction. I never used to be this bold.
The fabric is amorphous. Even when I’m holding it, I can’t quite touch it. With every movement, the nebulous cloth swirls with streaks of red. I don’t immediately see how to wear it, and I close myself off within his bathing chambers to puzzle it out.
The dress—as it turns out—slips over me like a shadow. In some places, like my hips, it’s like there’s nothing there at all. Other portions flicker like firelight amidst darkness. Like the floor-length skirt that contours my legs, expanding and contracting as I move.
I admire my reflection, elegant and sleek. The ribbons of flame flicker with their own light and caress me when I shift and turn. The bold red makes me want to be reckless. And when I see my face, I gasp.
Shadow and flame crown my eyes. The tips of my darkened lashes leave whispering trails of black smoke. My lips are tinted the same shade of red.
I look stunning.
I spend a delightfully long time basking in this thought before I reemerge.
“Do you like it?” Nikolai’s eyes smolder as they slowly travel down my body. The dress is the perfect level of daring, and he knows it.
“Yes.” I smile.
Nikolai opens the door, then holds out his arm like a gentleman. I link mine through his, clamping down on my excitement so my tingling magic doesn’t give me away.
We can hear the party long before we arrive. Shrieks of laughter and echoing shouts bounce up the stairs as we descend into what reveals itself to be a flickering, dimly lit cavern packed with bodies.
My nerves prickle at being underground. Omi was right: I don’t like being down here.
I try to shrug it off, but the suffocating heat presses in on me when we enter the writhing crowd.
Music throbs around us, layered harmoniously into a gorgeous, strangled sound.
The layers of scents are overwhelming, blending into a mass of overpowering, muddied perfume.
I’m breathing faster than I should.
“You don’t want to be here?” Nikolai is looking down at me, those beautiful eyes full of concern. I tighten my grip on his arm, trying to control my reaction to the confined space.
“Niko!” Annie and Jezebel appear out of nowhere on his other side, both barely wearing a smearing of liquid copper across their bodies.
I’m shocked by the unlikely pair. Annie whispers something in Nikolai’s ear that makes him smile.
The two girls giggle. Then Annie seems to recognize me, and her eyes widen.
“Sands, you’re gorgeous,” she exclaims. This elicits a glare from Jezebel, whose cat eyes also appraise my dress.
Then Annie’s saying, “Come on,” and pulling Nikolai’s other arm.
I unlink myself from him, envying the easy way the other girls touch him.
A pretty dress can only take my courage so far.
Nikolai looks down at me and frowns.
“Go on,” I say, grateful he can no longer feel my hurt.
Nikolai turns toward Jezebel and Annie, and I swallow thickly. He murmurs something to them, too quiet for me to catch and then his arm is curling protectively around my back.
My pulse stutters at his touch—but he’s already leading me back through the crush of bodies, out, up the stairs.
Breathing becomes easier.
“Thanks,” I say at the top. “You can go back down now. I’m good from here.”
“But you don’t want to be there,” Nikolai says.
I look away. He dressed me up. Made me feel beautiful. And still I chickened out.
“Sorry,” I mutter, resenting my urge to apologize.
“Don’t be.” He watches me, quiet, thoughtful, before clasping my hand and leading the way.
I stare at him. “Where are we going?”
“There’s something I want to show you.”
“Don’t you want to go back?” I say.
He gives me a funny look. “We’re celebrating. This is your night.”
I’m taken aback by Nikolai’s easy change of plans, but my chest feels light. It only occurs to me as an afterthought that I’m following an illusionist into the dark unknown.
“Aren’t the Halls more dangerous at night?” I murmur, but my shiver isn’t because I’m afraid.
“You’re with me,” he says simply.
I swallow. We go up and up, climbing staircase after gleaming glass staircase. Nikolai doesn’t let go of my hand; his grip is warm, grounding me even as anticipation coils low inside me, even when we reach a door at the top.
“This is it.” He smiles at me, almost shyly. I wish I could read his emotions. When he gestures for me to go ahead, I know I should stop—that I should be careful. He is still an illusionist, and I’ve learned too many times that nothing with him is simple.
Instead, I unhook the latch.
And push the door open.