Chapter 80 Taera
Taera
Arriving on no sleep and heading straight down the blue mirrored corridors to class is surreal.
I barely have a chance to throw on a set of silky blue robes before we’re pacing down a hallway full of dazzling, colorful hair and impossible faces.
Everyone is beautiful—Nikolai most of all.
His mask is back in place: the perfect actor.
It makes my stomach twist.
We pause outside the door to class.
“Here,” he murmurs. The rush of magic coalesces into a tingling veil that cascades down from the crown of my head.
“What did you—” I catch a reflection of myself. My sandy ruffled hair soothes into soft waves that shimmer in the morning sunlight.
“Thank you,” I say, shivering.
Nikolai’s arm curls against my waist as he leads me inside the classroom. All eyes fall on us.
“Well, that settles who Niko is taking to the masquerade,” Annie chirps, the redhead tilting her head back and laughing. Jezebel’s catlike eyes glower. I spot Omi, and they brighten.
“Don’t tell me you’ve been taking bets again.” Nikolai chuckles.
“You’re back early,” Jezebel says cooly.
“Who says we ever left my room?” He winks, looking down at me again. “Can I kiss you now?”
My breath catches, my heart skipping a beat, and I give the slightest nod. Then Nikolai is lifting me onto a desk, stepping into the space between my thighs as he consumes me. He tastes fresh as cinnamon, but hotter. When he pulls my body flush to his in front of everyone, I can’t help but gasp.
“Enough!” Master Koroy barks.
Nikolai takes his time, his lips lingering on my cheek, my ear, before stepping away, his eyes still burning with lust.
My heart rampages for minutes afterward. Any delusion that I could handle Nikolai’s attention shatters. My face is permanently flushed.
The hour takes longer than I thought possible before class is suddenly over. My magician whisks me out and leads me down twisting corridors until we arrive at his obsidian door.
“Welcome home,” he says, grinning at me.
When we step inside, he shifts. He drops away from me without a word and crosses to his desk, pulls out a pale leather book I recognize all too well.
It’s an act, I tell myself, and I draw a bath before the sting can set in. This is what we agreed to. But kissing me for show isn’t the intimacy I need. Just pretending we care for each other leaves me dazed and red in the face.
I need to reach the real him. I just don’t know how. He might want time to process, but he can’t act like nothing happened between us, walling himself up behind his mask. I won’t let him treat me like that.
A knock sounds on the door.
Nikolai is suddenly beside me again. He curves a possessive arm around my waist—making me stiffen—and throws open the door.
“Hey, Taera.” Omi smiles. “Can you do an extra shift today? I understand if you aren’t up to it, but…”
“Yes.” I step forward, away from Nikolai. I need to get out of here—far, far away from the magician who keeps skewering my heart.
Nikolai isn’t the only reason I came back to the Halls of Glass. Omi’s always had my back, even believing I could become a healer here. So I’ll focus on that, on my real friends, until Nikolai sorts out the sand up his ass.
“I’m glad you’re back.” Omi smiles at me as we walk quickly away. I make myself smile back, shoving away the chaotic mess of emotions that is Nikolai.
“Me too.”
It’s mostly true.
“So… what are you wearing to the ball?” they ask.
“The ball?” I blink.
They glance at me, grinning. “The masquerade this weekend.”
I can’t bring myself to care about the masquerade ball. Especially if it’s just another reason for Nikolai to wear a mask. Shrugging, I splay my arms out to display the magicians’ robes I’m wearing. “Can I wear these?”
“Don’t worry, you still have lots of time.” Omi chuckles. “Good trip?”
I have no idea if it was a good trip. But that doesn’t matter.
“I’d like to learn more about magical healers,” I say.
“Sure!” Their step has a bounce to it, and I narrow my eyes.
We arrive in the Healers’ Hall to a long list of routine tasks. Omi grins down at a jar of snailroot powder. They’re even humming.
“Are you going to the masquerade with someone?” I ask.
Omi’s feet shuffle in a little dance, their cheeks going pink, and they nod.
“Who?” I say, my own smile creeping up to match theirs.
“Sasha asked me.” They beam at me, wide and endearing.
“Sasha?” I blink, thinking of the sullen conduit who wears all black. “You like him?”
“He’s in my Advanced Runes class, the only conduit there,” they ramble. “He doesn’t have to take it—his technique is good enough—but he’s brilliant at the theory. We’re always competing.”
I laugh, my own tension melting away. “He sounds perfect for you.”
“Sorry. We were going to talk about healing,” Omi mutters, blushing. They tilt their head down, noting down some measurement from the scale.
“There’s no rush.” I grin, watching them try to compose themself.
They keep rambling. “Magicians who are healers—well, healing isn’t exactly the right word for it. They study like regular healers do, but they can also trick a patient’s mind.”
“Trick them?”
“Exactly. So… a patient doesn’t have to perceive anything.”
Something inside me knots. “So it’s an illusion?”
Omi fiddles with a glass vial. “Not all illusions are bad.”
“They hide the truth.” I frown. “That doesn’t help anyone.”
“Well… look at me.”
I turn to stare at their dark, downcast eyes. Short hair flops messily across their forehead.
“Am I a man or a woman?” Their tone is gentle, curious.
I study their round, androgynous face—I finally learned what that word means. “I—I’m not sure.”
“Exactly,” they say. “Not everyone is born who they want to be. Outside the Halls, I’m an outcast in the wrong skin. But here, designing a face both masculine and feminine is an art form.”
It’s true. Omi’s appearance is unusual, but not among the strangest things I’ve encountered in the Halls.
I’ve seen other androgynous magicians in classes, in the dining hall, even cheering for me at that horrid party.
Some of their faces catch my eye: ethereal and beautiful in a way I can’t pin down.
I look down at my jar of flaked snarlflower. “I didn’t think of that.”
Their eyes crinkle, but their smile is sad. “Not a lot of people do.”
We fall into a quiet rhythm. Omi shuffles about, checking another two tasks off the list. I retrieve a glass mortar and pestle off the shelf and grind the snarlflower into a yellow powder.
“If you become a healer”—they glance up at me—“you can ease suffering. Sometimes all someone needs is to not feel any pain.”
I go very still. “Like… my Gramps. He calls it sand in his joints.”
Of course. It’s so obvious now—how magic could help me take care of him. If I become a healer, I could finally ease his pain. Could magic have eased my mother’s suffering as well? A memory of her haunted eyes sends a sharp ache through my own chest.
I swallow, and Omi glances at me. Their brow softens. “I’m sorry.”
Neither of us says anything more. We work side by side for the remainder of our shift, my emotions sifting like sand, bittersweet and thoughtful. It’s several minutes later when I surface.
“So how does it work?” I ask. “Helping with pain. Can’t only conduits be healers?”
Omi’s eyes twinkle. “Actually, there are all sorts of talismans you can learn to use. There are even a few relics, although…” Their expression darkens. “You can’t tell anyone, but this morning… one of them went missing.”
“Can’t you just make another?”
“You can’t just make a relic.” Omi shakes their head. “No one knows how. They’re as old as the Halls themselves, with just as many secrets.”
My thoughts flit involuntarily back to a certain green-eyed magician.
I lower my voice and ask, “Omi, what’s really at the center of the labyrinth?”
They look up from washing their hands. “I already told you it may not exist.”
“But if it does?”
“Well, the stories all differ…” They hesitate, glancing at the door to the back room as though someone might hear us. “Twin mirrors that reflect the past and future, memories of the first magician, an amulet with no alchemical limits to the magic that it can store…”
I stiffen, knowing in my gut that the last one would appeal to Nikolai.
Why does he need power without limits? It could be some twisted way of trying to take care of Hazel—of protecting her.
I look down at Mom’s necklace, at the eucalyptus that’s kept me safe for three years. It felt so warm when Nikolai returned it to me, but now it’s just another reminder of everyone who has left me. And now I’ve left my family, too. My chest clenches.
With my thumb, I trace the etchings. I’ve worn this necklace every day since Mom pressed it into my hand. I promised I’d never take it off. Did this necklace protect her, too, before she was attacked?
My stomach turns to stone, horror spreading cold and terrible through my veins. My knuckles turn white where I grip the pendant. I still remember the sparkle in Mom’s eyes when she took it off and looped it around my neck.
Be careful with this. It’s very important. Never take it off, okay? I love you, Taera.
Mom sacrificed her own safety for mine.