Chapter 27
Oh great.
It’s Friday the thirteenth.
Could really do without any extra bad luck.
I get up early, and am showered, and dressed by the time Alexis knocks on my door.
“Ready?” he asks.
So ready.
We’re going to the infirmary so I can ‘work’ on Wes some more.
I’ve got forty-five minutes until the morning staff shows up. We don’t talk on our way down to the ground floor, either internally or externally. I’m trying to clear my mind and focus on Wes.
—I can’t say, pulu. But I’ll be back as soon as I can—
—Not a problem. Maybe being alone with Wes is what needs to happen—
No matter what I’ve tried so far, my Lumina just falls flat when it reaches towards him.
—Stay safe—
Alexis leaves, and I go straight to the medical bed.
Looking past the monitor, drips and wires, I try to see the boy who once told me I was his. “Where are you?”
I press a kiss to his cold lips, bringing the energy inside me to the surface. A single mote travels between us but dissolves after a second, like a snowflake melting on a fingertip.
Slumping onto the nearby chair, I rest my head on Wes’s chest and feel hopeless.
—Sparkles? You up—
—Yeah, I’m in with Wes—
—Any change?—
—No—
There’s a pause. I don’t reply.
Wes needs my full attention.
Still leaning against his torso, I take each of his hands in mine. “Fight, Wes. Fucking fight.” And I have to fight too. I can’t let the Lumina behave like this.
The spark at my core heats. The fire of magic inside me is demanding the gift of Amirene to do its job. It’s…intense.
An internal battle that twists my guts and hurts my heart. I push and shove, trying to tear a hole through the sticky dark magic that covers him.
Then pain hits me. A jagged, searing heat rips through my chest, and my back arches as the Lumina recoils.
The inside of Wes is too much—too poisonous.
My grip on his hands falters, and I collapse back into the chair, tasting blood in my mouth. Shit.
I bit my tongue.
The monitors next to the bed show no sign of the frenzied struggle Wes and I have just been through.
The regular beep, beep, beep continues on.
“Why?” I look upwards, imploring someone, something, to help me.
The door to the infirmary clicks shut, and I instantly swivel around.
Maximus.
He’s across the room in three long strides, taking in my twisted body and tear-stained face. “Sparkles, you're white as a sheet,” he mutters, scooping me out of the chair and settling me firmly in his lap.
I bury my face in his neck and cry hot tears into his blazer. “I’m failing him, I can't get in,” I sob. “I'm not strong enough.”
Max is rubbing soothing circles on my back. “Listen, Princess. You are plenty strong, but you’re having to carry so much of this load by yourself. If I could give my life blood to save Wes, then I would, but unfortunately that’s not what he needs.”
My heart squeezes at the thought of Maximus bleeding out. I couldn’t…couldn’t bear that.
“Listen to me, Theodora Wilson. You are not alone, and together we’ll find a way to win all the battles.”
He brushes a stray hair from my forehead, his thumb lingering on my temple.
"I love you. Do you hear me? Not because you’re filled with divine essence, or destined for me because of that 'True Bond' shit Lexi talks about. It’s because you are you. You make me want to be more than a second-rate pseudo-royal who scrabbles together cash through get-rich-quick schemes and pit-fighting because he’s a disgrace to the family name. ”
Max pit fights?
Max is royalty?
Wait… Max loves me?
My battered heart feels like it’s expanding enough to crack my ribs. "Max... you love me?”
He grins. “Well, never having been in love before, I’m guessing that’s what this crazy sensation is. And the fact I want to spend every second with you, and will dedicate my life to making yours better.”
Maximus draws me slightly away from his body, then tilts my chin up to look at him. “You are the center of my world, Princess Divine Sparkles Goddess. And you’re never going to be rid of me. Are you OK with that?”
I close my eyes, letting Max’s words and body heat soothe my aching soul.
It’s like a balm of warm oil is being poured through the fibers of my muscles. His strength supports my over-stressed nervous system.
Suddenly, the air in the room shifts.
The pain from trying to treat Wes is completely gone.
Wes.
I turn my body, remaining on Maximus’s lap, then gently pick up Wes’ wrist. A surge of Lumina—not just a couple of sluggish sparks—travels down my arm, out of my fingers, and into his pale forearm.
It’s more than a teaspoon. Maybe even a cupful.
The heart monitor momentarily changes pace, letting out a faster succession of beeps.
Then Wes’s fingers twitch.
“Did you see that?” I gasp.
Please Gods, I didn’t imagine that.
Leaning forward, Maximus presses his stubbly cheek against mine. “Sure did, Sparkles. Sure did.”
This was because of Max, I know it. His love makes my Lumina stronger.
Moving myself back around to face the hellhound, I take his face in my hands and lean forward, gently kissing him. He curls his hand around my hair and deepens the kiss; his hot, wild tongue makes me feel alive and strong.
It fills me with hope, and doesn’t allow any space for despair.
Beneath me, Max grows hard.
My panties, correspondingly, become soaked.
Click, whirr. The door opens.
Shit.
“Uh…” a voice says.
It’s Alexis. Thank Gods.
Max releases my mouth, but not his hold on my body. Looking over my shoulder he speaks to his cousin. “Wes reacted to her Lumina at last.”
“Er, great. But you both need to get out of here. Times up.”
I don’t know where to look as I stand and smooth down my skirt, but Alexis is by my side within a beat. He pulls me into an embrace. “This is good, pulu. All of it. This is how it should be.”
???
It seems like just about every class at Validus Vale has shifted times to accommodate the newly switched students.
My Friday afternoon now consists of a double lesson of ‘Magi Jurisprudence’, taught by a Scottish woman, Professor McCall. Her accent is so thick she sounds like she’s chewing on haggis.
The classroom is usually used for Theoretical Combat Tactics, and smells of testosterone and wannabe authority.
It’s very boring, so I’m silently catching up on gossip with Willow, rather than listening to Professor McCall.
—Did you hear that Scott broke up with Ginger Teresa?— Wills asks me.
—No! Why?—
—Because he’s gone all ‘magical purist’—
Scott Samson had been another Defectivum who had been promoted to Communis. —So he can’t handle that Teresa is still in Defectivum?—
—Exactamundo—
—Wanker—
I lean my elbows on the desk, and try to look like I’m thinking deeply about Article Two.
Article Two is the Absolute Sovereignty of a Spark, meaning magical ability is no longer a personal gift, it’s a state-owned resource.
Yikes.
A shadow falls over me and I look up, expecting Jordan or Kayla and their latest drama, but instead, it’s Naomi Watson.
She doesn't say a word, just slides into the seat next to me, looking as stylish and unruffled as usual.
—Hey, Wills…your girl just sat next to me …what’s going on with you two?—
Willow’s response takes a moment. —I think I’ve hurt her feelings…I’ve been pulling back since the ball—
Pulling back?
—I thought you were into her?—
—I am! But with everything that’s going on…I don’t know. It doesn’t seem safe to have another Elite in our posse—
Shit, my heart aches for Willow. She’s giving up on a chance for happiness to keep the rest of us safe.
—I understand where you’re coming from…and I hate this is something we have to consider—
Willow sighs deeply inside my brain. —No kidding—
My eyes slide over to Naomi as she takes notes in an elegant script. Yes, her parents are Conclave, but she doesn’t act like someone invested in hierarchy.
Is it time to expand our circle? Find more students we can trust?
Our current ‘battalion’ is small.
Too small.
Alexis would have an aneurism if he knew what I was contemplating, but sometimes you’ve got to go with your gut…not facts and figures.
—Are you OK if I get inside her head, Wills? It’s a quick way to know if she’s trustworthy…—
There’s a beat of silence before Willow replies. —It’s a gross invasion of privacy, but extraordinary times calls for…—
—...extraordinary measures. Agreed. I’m going to do it, then we'll know. And if she’s anti Conclave…—
—Can we bring her into the fold?— Willow’s voice changes tone. —You don’t have to do this, Theo. I’ll survive without her—
—I’m doing it for all of us…strength in numbers and all that….my intuition is telling me to do this, and Amirene told me to follow my instincts—
—Heck! Well in that case, go for it. Just don’t tell me anything you learn from her mind. If it’s meant to be between us, I want to discover the inner Naomi naturally—
—That’s what she said—
—Gods, Theo. Really?—
McCall starts talking about the new Conclave Constitution. I think she said it's being launched immediately, but it sounded more like, ‘It’s bein' lu-anched e-mee-jit-ly, so it is.’
Tuning out the professor, I change my frequency to Naomi Watson.
The entry into Naomi’s mind is smoother than I expected. I haven’t been using my telepathy much lately, but it’s a resource I’ve seriously overlooked. I can’t hear the minds of those choked with dark energy, but Elite minds? Now, they're a walk in the park.
Though Naomi’s ‘park’ is not full of sunshine and rainbows.
—Fucking, fucking bastards…slavery, that’s what it is… cunts…—
Blimey. Her inner voice is seething. She’s definitely not team-Conclave.
—Dad already thinks he’s a God…now this?—
I push a little deeper, navigating past her surface-level annoyance brought up by the class topic.
A memory flashes: Naomi, younger, standing in a grand dining room.
Her father, a man with a stern, cold face, is explaining that she will no longer play with the village children. Naomi has to understand her status, as one day those children will be her servants.
“Never,” young Naomi spits back. “I’d rather be penniless and powerless than lord it over someone else.”
Her father casts, freezing Naomi with a spell. “This is a pointless rebellion, Naomi. Your sister has already embarrassed the family, I will not allow you to do the same.”
He starts to undo his belt, pulling the heavy leather into his hands then making it snap. “You will learn to obey.”
I quickly blink out of her head, feeling like a voyeur. Naomi’s anger and pain are still swirling through my body.
The Lumina in my chest surges, wanting to help her.
“The third article," Professor McCall’s voice announces, "prohibits any Magi from using magic to benefit humans. This offence carries an instant incarceration of ten years. No trial. No appeal.”
Naomi’s pen snaps in her hand. Blue ink spreads across her fingers and beautiful cursive.
“Godsdammit,” she whispers under her breath.
I reach into my bag, find a clean tissue, and slide it toward her blotted paper without making eye contact.
“Thanks, Theo,” she mutters.
—Willow,— I ping my bestie—Stop pulling back from Naomi, she needs you. I don’t know when or how we can bring her into the inner circle, but I truly trust her not to go running to the Conclave—
Willow’s relief is so palpable I can almost taste it. —You’re sure?—
—Sparing you the details, but yes, I’m sure—
—Oh, Gods. Thank you, Theo. Thank you so much—
The bell ending the first half of the double lesson rings. McCall tells us to take five minutes before we dive into Article Four. Preserving Lineage Purity.
Naomi stands up, smoothing her skirt. "I need some air," she says, looking at me with a questioning tilt of her head. "Coming?”
I wish I could, but I’m still playing Feeble-Theo, who has a brain that’s been fried by the Conclave.
“No thank you. I’ll wait here. Jordan may want to hang out.”
The eye roll Naomi gives me is well deserved.