CHAPTER 4 #2
“You came looking for me?” I reached for an empty saucer.
As soon as I set the plate in front of me, food appeared, the same items that sat untouched before the others.
“I must have been in the bathroom. I tried your door before I came up too. Why’s no one eating?
You don’t all still think it’s poisoned? ”
Three pairs of sheepish eyes stared back at me. I shook my head at them and reached for a fork. Spearing a piece of pineapple, I put it in my mouth, then chewed and swallowed. Five seconds passed before I said, “It’s tangy.”
That was all the confirmation Lana needed. She dug into her food with a fervor, ravenously shoveling eggs into her mouth. Moric and Anama were a little more dignified, but both seemed equally starved.
“Didn’t anyone come for dinner last night?” I asked, popping a grape into my mouth. Its sweet juice coated my tongue as I bit into it.
Anama shook her head, her mouth full.
“We were a bit preoccupied with our sprites.” Moric gestured to the green sprite on his shoulder, who had an annoyed look on her face.
“I told you the food wasn’t poisoned,” the sprite said in a tinny voice.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled through a mouthful of toast.
“You’re going to have to start trusting me if you have any hope of making it through the Trials.” The sprite folded her arms across her chest, then stomped the length of Moric’s shoulder. She settled at the base of his neck, curled on her side and closed her eyes.
“Is she asleep?” Lana eyed the sprite.
“Sprites are notoriously low on energy,” Anama said. Her voice was soft, like she hadn’t quite gotten used to speaking to us yet. “It’s because their bodies are so small, and they expend so much energy flying. They either need to eat a lot or sleep to maintain themselves.”
“Did yours tell you that last night?” I asked.
Anama shook her head. “I’ve worked for many years in the Great Library of Kraventhorn, with little to do but read. My sprite is very… shy. She’s hardly spoken to me since arriving.”
Much like Anama herself, I couldn’t help noting. If our sprites had been chosen for our personalities, I shuddered to think what that said about mine.
“I’m sure she’ll come around. What about yours?” I asked Lana.
Lana took a sip of her orange juice and opened her mouth to respond, but a tiny shape whizzed above her head, dropping to land before her plate.
He was pure sunlight. Where Calendula was shadow and night, yolky light leaked from the sprite before me.
He had a handsome face, his features sharp and pointed, his eyes a familiar gold.
He wore a suit, the starched white shirt beneath his coat crisply pressed.
“This is Osmanthius,” Lana introduced.
Osmanthius gave a deep bow. “At your service.”
I blinked, but there was no animosity in Osmanthius’ eyes as he straightened. Was it just my sprite that hated my guts?
“Where’s yours?” Lana asked, her eyes tracking Osmanthius’ movements as he picked his way around her plate, inspecting the food on the table. He tugged at a piece of leftover toast, breaking off a breadcrumb and popping it into his mouth.
“I think I pissed her off,” I grumbled.
Anama winced. “Bad move. Aside from being extremely lethargic, sprites hold grudges for lifetimes.”
“Speak for the others, but I’m not lethargic,” Osmanthius protested, his golden wings ruffling even as he yawned.
“Of course,” Anama hastened to assure him. Turning to me, she said, “You should give her a peace offering.”
“A peace offering? Like what?”
She shrugged. “Find out her favorite food. You’re going to need her for the rest of the Trials.”
I opened my mouth to ask her how I was supposed to find out Calendula’s favorite food when she had stalked off to the shadows, when the same trilling that had awoken me this morning echoed through the room. The plates, food, cutlery and condiments disappeared in the blink of an eye.
“I was still eating that,” Moric griped.
The elven who had been steadfastly ignoring us now stood, filing out of the mess hall in an orderly line. As they exited, a smaller group entered through the double doors to the right, led by Kilian Valhan.
He donned his usual armor, daggers glinting at his sides, jaw set in the same grim expression he seemed to wear each time I saw him. His dark hair was ruffled, soft curls spilling over his forehead like ink across parchment.
“Welcome to your first day in Valhan House,” Kilian said as he reached our table, but there was no warmth in his voice.
“Assignments will be called out. Once you’ve been allocated an instructor, please join them in the center, where you will take the sacred oath.
” He offered no further explanation before pulling out a roll of parchment.
“Rola Doul,” Kilian read from the sheet.
A woman from the first quartet nervously stood.
“You’ll be paired with Palisa.”
A stunning dark-skinned, silver-haired elven branched off from the elven group to meet Rola in the center of the room. Palisa whispered something inaudible to the mortal woman and they joined hands. And then it was done. I watched as the pair exited the room without a backward glance.
“Is that it?” Lana whispered. “Seems a bit anticlimactic.”
The assignments carried on like that for the next few minutes.
Moric was called up, disturbing his sprite, much to her annoyance, and paired with an elven male with forest green eyes.
Anama’s instructor was a willowy elven female with sun kissed skin and silky copper hair that ran down her back.
She was easily the most beautiful female I had ever seen in my life.
“Rayna Forlun,” Kilian drawled in that bored voice that told me he had done this for far too many decades. “You’re with Echon.”
My heart shriveled in my chest as Scar Face – Echon – stepped to the center. I didn’t particularly like Rayna, but I wouldn’t wish that elven on my worst enemy.