Chapter 67 Taera
Taera
Iwake up to Nikolai’s hand on my shoulder. The room is dark. I glance out the window, seeing that the sun hasn’t yet touched the horizon.
“We have to depart at dawn,” Nikolai murmurs in the not-quite light.
I dress quickly in my old clothes. They’re rough and heavy on my body. I frown, trying to remember if they always scratched my skin, before I follow Nikolai out the door.
Leaving is easier than it should be. I follow Nikolai down several corridors and a set of stairs, and we emerge in the huge hall with the massive tree in the center.
Master Koroy is waiting, arms crossed, scowling as usual.
But he nods toward a white carriage, ready to go, to which Nikolai gestures.
We climb inside, and for a moment I’m terrified the door will disappear and I’ll be trapped again. But when the step is pulled up and we begin rumbling forward, I still have a full view of the outside.
The Halls themselves curve open for us, their huge mirrored walls swinging out to reveal exposed desert. The scent hits my nostrils, and I breathe in deeply. The wheels somehow roll atop the sand, producing a gentle rumble.
I feel untethered, like my stomach has dropped out from within me.
Looking out at the horizon, I imagine I can see my village.
I frown at what Ezran would think if he could see me in this carriage.
He would shake his head at me, his sandy-brown hair flopping in his face.
His dusty-brown eyes—my eyes—would watch me as I roll away from my responsibilities to follow a magician.
But the only thing I see is sand; not a glimmer remains of the Halls of Glass.
Feeling ill, and not just from the dizziness of my swinging surroundings, I drag my eyes back inside the carriage. There’s no turning back.
“We’re going to visit your family?” I ask. “Your sister?”
“Yes,” he says. His voice is tentative, stripped of his usual confidence.
Taken by surprise, I blink. Then, I understand.
I’m going to get to see who Nikolai truly is, underneath all the masks and illusions that he wears at the Halls of Glass.
The anticipation is almost too much. I remain quiet.
I don’t want to rush him to reveal himself until he’s ready, even if the idea makes my heart swell.
The sun has only just begun warming the carriage, but I’m already hot in my heavy tunic and pants. The clothes that used to comfort me now itch, the rough seams chafing. I miss the blue fabric that caressed me like water. I glance at the robed magician across from me.
He’s beautiful. Dangerous. Whenever I’m around him, all my plans are thrown to the desert. I yearn for him, but make myself remember: even if he’s finally going to show me his true face, he’s still keeping secrets. He’s a magician, and I’m not the only one who has been charmed by his illusions.
Still, I ache to know the man beneath the mask.
I remember Nikolai’s amusement when he corrected me, Not all my sources are girls.
I vividly imagine him with another guy. My face heats, not entirely from discomfort, and I shove that thought away.
Wanting Nikolai is like pining after the desert.
Even he warned me not to fall for him—before taking me to his bed and making me see more stars than in the night sky.
But then why did he offer to take me with him?
He looks over at me, and my chest flutters.
“I have something for you.” He reaches into one of those many pockets and pulls out a small glass bead. “It will cover your scars until they’re fully healed.”
My heart only speeds a little as I give him my hand. He unknots my bracelet with deft fingers.
“I guess I don’t need this one anymore.” I give a forced chuckle, holding up the bead I’ve finally stopped blushing about. Still, it’s nice to wear pants again, with no chance of a reflection catching me the wrong way. And even if it somehow does, I have my undergarments back.
“You can keep it,” he says, sliding a second bead on beside it and refixing the knot. “You have enough magic to wear as many talismans as you like.”
When the bead tightens against my skin, tingling, I pull back my sleeves. The moon-shaped scars fade to nothing.
“Thank you,” I say.
“Thank Annie.” He smirks. “It was designed to cover love bites.”
I blush.
“This is also yours.” Nikolai holds out Mom’s necklace. My heart twists as I take the pendant, its wood surface unassuming.
“Thanks,” I whisper.
His expression turns thoughtful. “I think it’s originally from the Halls.”