Chapter 24
Chapter
Twenty-Four
-KADIAN-
“When are you going to stop looking like shit?”
Dragging my gaze up from the bowl of oatmeal I was forcing down, I scowled at Oz, who sat grinning at me across the table. “Now that’s not very friendly, is it?” I murmured.
I was exhausted. After slogging my way back to my room a few nights ago, I spent every waking moment hovering over work.
Much to my frustration, Tura had been absent from the library the past few days, leaving me a note that so lovingly said, “Kadian, these notes are pure shit. Do better, be back soon. Tura.” Well, it might not have been that exactly, but it wasn’t too far off.
One afternoon, after I’d scoured over some of Addie’s papers, I’d chosen to go for a walk in my new home.
The halls were quiet as I roamed around.
I knew Brida had been given a tour by Alvar on her first day, no one had made such an offer to me.
I would do fine navigating this place for myself.
While yes, it was big, it was manageable.
One floor up from the library was a museum of sorts.
As much as I had lamented school for my obvious difficulties, I had never once turned down a trip to a museum.
Brida and I had made it a habit that in every small town we’d visited to go see what they deemed as “Eldara’s most valuable collection.
” Historically, this had meant a few rocks, maybe gemstones, and an artifact that someone claimed belonged to one of the Primals.
I heard footsteps in the distance, but the room I entered was once again empty.
A darker space, the magma-infused walls didn’t run through here; in fact, the walls appeared to be made of hematite, offering a slight reflection off the flame that flickered from the torches.
I had a passion for minerals and rocks, so much so that I had taken a few courses over the past few years in geological studies.
Brida had been too busy with literary courses, so those had been just for me.
As much as I loved having her around, it had been fun to have something that was just mine.
Onyx pedestals lined the room, each with an item sitting atop, with a small description below.
On the first sat a ledger of sorts, appearing to be held together from some sort of…
darkness? It was as if the cover of a book, typically leather, had ceased to exist. The pages were held together by the shadows that lingered there.
They’re moving. The sway and movement of the wisps called to me in a way that I didn’t quite understand, as if I wanted to touch them.
I wouldn’t do that if I were you.
Gods. I hadn’t realized, but my hand was mere inches from the book, I’d frozen mid-reach. Uh, thank you. I thought to myself, to the voice that had stopped me.
You’re welcome.
“Are you the same voice as earlier? The door?” It sounded similar, but it didn’t matter.
I was losing my fucking mind. None of this was likely real.
Chances are I’d forgotten to eat and passed out somewhere.
At the thought of food, my stomach responded.
I hadn’t gone to breakfast this morning, I’d overslept and then gone to the gym, in an attempt to work out some of the built-up frustration.
The pain, the anguish, the grief. Emotions and feelings that I wasn’t sure if I was entitled to be feeling right now.
Addie hadn’t been my aunt, but I’d known her.
I’d loved her for who she was to Bri, what she’d given her.
“Yes and no.”
How incredibly unhelpful. I thought.
“Now, now, no need to be rude.”
I smacked myself in the face. Right, you can hear my thoughts. That’s how this whole communicating thing works. Got it.
The reverberations from my abdomen only grew louder as I stepped from the book and moved on to the next object. It was… a void. I found myself circling the podium, continuing to see if it was an optical illusion. Despite moving around it six times, I couldn’t find any other explanation for it.
Somehow, floating above the podium rested a black disc, but its darkness was not like the darkness of shadows, but something deeper. Something that sent a chill through me, as if it were somehow beckoning me to it.
“That’s enough for today,” the door and house voice said.
“What the fuck is that thing?” I found myself asking. Something about it felt like a warning and a lure. Simultaneously appealing and repulsive. Fear if you didn’t touch it, fear if you did. It was tantalizing, and yet I had never been filled with more dread.
My palms were sweaty as my heart ricocheted off my ribs, desperate for an escape. It too wanted out of that thing’s grasp.
You have been taught that everything has a beginning, a middle, and an end. And while sometimes that is true, what you think of as a beginning is not a true beginning. That is a glimpse of what was, and what could be.
Oz’s laugh boomed, causing me to shake. “Not sure there is a lineup of people to come take my place.” I had slipped into a memory. You’re in the dining hall with Oz, your friend. The voice’s warning had been on loop in my mind. What could be, what could be, what could be.
Oz’s chatter forced me to recenter myself, try to focus on what was in front of me. I steadied my breathing, wiping the remnants of the memory from my eyes, and took a sip of my drink. “How is it you continue to look like you do when all you eat is bacon?”
“And jam.” Breadcrumbs tumbled from his mouth as he spoke.
Is this how I look to Brida most of the time? Gods, does Lil see me this way?
The dining hall was practically empty. Save for us, and a few other court members, only a few magisters were there.
The majority of our former fellow inductees had chosen to stop socializing with those outside of their courts and had begun eating in the mess halls in each of the houses.
Oz and I had no plans to stop what we’d been doing before.
“Hey, hey, how’s my hair?”
“Your hair?” I murmured, “What are you…”
“You didn’t answer me,” Oz said as he lifted a spoon, trying to spy his reflection.
“Did you forget that you don’t have any hair?” Looking across the room, I saw why he’d grown nervous. Iona, decked out in her black and red fighting leathers, ready to take on any living thing who looked at her the wrong way.
“Right.” Oz set the spoon down, aiming for a casual gesture—he missed the table by a few inches, landing his hand in his cup of coffee instead. With a startled jerk from the heat, he sent it spilling over.
“Gods, what’s wrong with you?”
“I don’t know, man, but I feel like I’m sweating.”
Beads of sweat had formed at his brow. “It might be due to the fact that you just shoved your hand into a cup of steaming coffee. Pull it together.” My voice was low, even, and tinged with laughter. Brida and Lil would have gotten a kick out of this, and Tamra would never have let him live it down.
Iona sat down, with her eyebrows raised next to me. “Good morning, Kadian.” Her eyes dragged across the table, eyeing the spilled coffee that almost formed an arrow, pointing to Oz as the culprit. “Osforth,” she said.
“Good morning, Iona. How are you on this fine day? You look ready as ever to take on the world.” Oz lowered his voice by about six octaves.
Covering my mouth with my hand to hide the grin now living on my face, my eyes dashed between the two of them.
To no one’s surprise, Iona ignored him.
“I was looking for you. I think you and I need to have a conversation.” She tilted her head towards the exit.
“I’m not ready to start the day, Iona. Still waking up.” I raised my cup of coffee at her, hoping that this could wait at least until I finished my drink. I should have known better.
“Is there something I can help you with, Iona? While I’m sure Kadian could help you, he’s less capable than I am.” Oz readjusted himself, leaning his flexed arm atop the table.
“What a tempting offer. But,” she tapped her nails against the top of the worn wood table, “I don’t think you can help me. You see, Osforth—”
“Oz,” he interrupted. “I would love it if you called me Oz. Only my mother calls me Osforth, and Tamra when she’s trying to piss me off.”
“So, all the time then?” I interjected before raising my hands, feigning innocence.
“Well, Oz,” Iona said, donning a pained expression all the while, “you see, you can’t help me. Because Kadian and I are supposed to be working on something together. A special project, if you will.”
“A special project?” Oz’s eyebrows almost escaped his face. I couldn’t tell if it was disbelief that I was working with Iona, if I was working on a project, or if I was working on something at all.
“Yes. A special project. Now you see, Oz.” Iona’s voice was laced with mockery as she leaned her elbows on the table, supporting her head with her hands, batting her eyelashes—I nearly gagged. “I’ve worked on half of the project. But you know when there is a group assignment?”
“I hate group assignments,” he said as if he was in complete synchronicity with every thought she’d ever had.
“You know when one person in the group doesn’t pull their weight? Doesn’t that just make you rage? For me, it’s not just frustration—it’s fury, a slow-burning fire that coils through my veins, tightening like a vice with every excuse and unfinished task.”
Oz looked at me, “Why are you slacking? Can’t you see what you’re doing to this beautiful woman?”
I threw my spoon down on the table, coughing to clear my throat. “You cannot seriously believe a word she says.”
“What’s the project?” Oz’s attention shifted back to Iona.
Before I could stop her, before I could say anything, Iona indulged him. “We’re working on a bit of a history project. It’s quite complex.”
“Is it now? I love puzzles.”
“Of course you do,” Iona leaned in closer, “maybe you can help me solve one. Why is it when someone, who seems desperate for help, is refusing to help themselves?” Iona turned her burrowing gaze towards mine.