Chapter 12
Chapter twelve
There’s a small crowd gathered already.
The taller students read over the heads of others. Smaller first-years stand in the front, getting an up-close-and-personal view of the results.
I haven’t worked up the courage to walk over.
Instead, I just stand off to the side, my back pressed against the cold stone wall.
Ambrose stands next to me, a silent pillar of strength.
He talks with various Veils who stop and converse with him, but he never leaves my side or tries to drag me into the conversation.
He just allows me to stand here and find my bearings.
To find my courage.
I watch as the other first-years read down the list, searching for their names. Some jump up and down, hugging the friends they’ve made this past week. Others shake their heads, disappointment written all over their faces.
All their emotions are understandable but pointless. It doesn’t matter what we feel or want. The academy decides our future.
But the diverse display of emotions isn’t what’s causing anxiety to claw its way up my throat, digging deep into the tissue and drawing blood. No, that’s saved for the students who cast looks in my direction with varying expressions of pity or confusion.
Please do not let me be a dark wielder.
I wring my hands in front of me.
Anything but that.
I swallow, forcing myself to calm down. Getting upset isn’t going to accomplish anything.
Most of the surviving first-years know how badly I want that Veil title.
Our numbers have dwindled to around forty over the past week, so we’ve gotten to know each other in a sense, even if only on a superficial level.
Enough to know who’s gunning for Veil and who has their eyes set on becoming a Noctryn.
“Nori!” a feminine voice yells, causing me to look over.
Mallory is heading in my direction, her cheeks pink from running.
They match her cherry-blossom fauxhawk. Her feet skid to a halt right in front of me as she grabs my shoulders for balance.
“Have you looked yet?” she asks excitedly, a huge smile lighting up her face.
“Not yet. But I’m working on it,” I reply, forcing myself to appear cool, calm, and collected.
But I know my nervousness is written all over my face. I’ve always been shit at hiding my emotions. The sympathetic look she’s currently directing at me tells me she definitely picked up on it.
“What are you waiting for? You know exactly where your name is on that list. At this point, you’re only confirming it,” she states in a confident tone. Both hands propped on her hips.
“Yeah, that’s kind of what I’m working up the courage for.”
“What are we getting courage for?” Finnley asks, coming up beside her and giving my braid a playful tug.
“She’s nervous about the results,” Mallory explains, pulling my braid out of Finnley’s grasp.
“She has nothing to be nervous about. She’s a Veil through and through,” Ambrose joins in, turning away from the upperclassmen he was talking to and wrapping his arm around my shoulders.
“Or… she’s a Noctryn, which is okay as well,” Finnley replies, but his sincere smile and understanding eyes are directed at me.
Ambrose cuts an annoyed look toward Finnley but doesn’t say anything more.
He’s working really hard to dig himself out of the trenches.
Mallory looks around at us all, both hands back to resting on her slim hips. “Well, I’m walking up and finding my name. Who’s coming with me?”
“Right behind you,” Finnley answers, turning his torso side to side and stretching his arms like he’s preparing for war.
“Me too,” I whisper.
“Nori, you got this,” Ambrose says, grabbing my face gently with both hands and turning me to look at him.
“You and me until the end. We always knew we would be Veils together. We’ve waited for this day since we were kids.
” His scent wraps around me, the familiar smell of ocean breeze and broken waves grounding me. Reminding me of who I am.
And that I’m not alone.
I nod, breaking eye contact and stepping back to follow my friends.
My steps falter slightly behind Finnley and Mallory, their excitement outweighing my trepidation. Ambrose stays back, allowing us to experience this together as first-years. It’s better this way. For some reason, I’d be even more nervous with him reading the names with me.
The pressure would just be that much more intense.
A large parchment is pinned to the stone, with the Kintoira Academy crest pressed into black wax, dripping down the right corner. The names are written in Solarish, the most common language throughout the realm. Also mandated that everyone know how to read and write in it.
Bold letters in elegant gold writing clearly state “Noctryn” with a group of names beneath.
I take a deep breath and scan the names below, looking for mine. My eyes are reading almost quicker than I can decipher. Samason Nivinche, the quiet boy from Willikson, Mayline Zhou, Zackary Winchell. The fact that they aren’t in alphabetical order just adds to the anticipation.
When I come to the last name and still haven’t found mine, a sigh of relief escapes me.
I drop my head forward.
Thank the gods.
Mentally shaking myself, I raise my head and continue reading. The next section in bold, eloquent letters says “Veil,” with more names listed below.
Mallory jumps up, punching the air next to me.
I pull my eyes from her and back to the list.
Emory Voss, Eryk Porter, Mallory Blaire… I continue reading through the names, the list getting shorter and shorter.
I come to the last name on the scroll, and it’s not mine.
Finnley Stax.
What. The. Fuck.
Finnley goes still next to me, apparently reading at the same speed.
In bold letters at the bottom of the list is another header.
Inconclusive.
There’s a singular name below it: Norissa Caderyn.
“It must be a mistake,” Finnley says under his breath, looking from the parchment to me and back again.
The academy doesn’t make mistakes.
I stare at my name like it betrayed me. I’m a Caderyn. We’re Veils.
Quickly, I peek over my shoulder at Ambrose. He’s watching me with an intense expression on his face. Both brows are drawn, and his sharp eyes are narrowed in on me.
I offer him a hollow smile and turn back to the list.
I blink at my name.
Still there.
“It’s okay. We’ll just head down to the headmistress’s office, and she’ll straighten it out,” Mallory offers. Her wide eyes are full of false optimism.
The headmistress. A shiver crawls across my skin. No one wants to go to her office. You stay off her radar at all costs. I can’t imagine crossing her threshold and not even belonging to one of the two regiments under her thumb.
Finnley squeezes my shoulder reassuringly. He doesn’t offer any more words of encouragement or false hope. This is why he’s one of my favorite people here. No bullshit, no making light of a bad situation, just there to walk through the misery with me.
This isn’t how I expected to be inducted into the academy.
So many years of envisioning this moment.
Some little girls daydream of the day they’ll walk down the aisle and become a bride.
Not me. I always dreamed of the day I’d see my name assigned to the Veils.
Upholding my family legacy. Making my mother proud in the only way I’d ever be able to.
Even when I proved to her time and time again that I wasn’t cut out for it.
It didn’t matter. I had my sights set on wearing that uniform.
I turn on my heel and walk back toward my best friend. How do I even tell him? Everything we dreamed about while lying in those sawgrass fields staring at the midnight sky just evaporated into broken dreams. A wisp slipping through my fingers.
I stop in front of him, take a deep breath, and raise my head. Arctic eyes collide with my green ones.
He reaches for me, and I let him.
“What’s wrong? What did it say?” His tone is urgent, but his touch is gentle as he grabs the back of my neck, pulling me into his solid chest.
“I don’t know… I don’t understand. It says I didn’t place.”
My words come out muffled as my face is buried in his rough embrace. He grips the back of my hair in his fist, gently pulling my head back and tilting my chin up with his other hand.
“You have to place, and there are only two options.” His words are confident, but his eyes hold something else. Something that resembles hesitation. Possibly fear.
“Yeah, that’s exactly what I said,” Mallory chimes in as she walks up behind me, biting her fingernails.
“Same,” Finnley agrees, coming up and standing at my other side.
“The results were clearly written,” I reply, rubbing my exhausted eyes. Maybe if I rub hard enough, I’ll wake up and this will all be a bad dream.
Every single answer was put forth with such careful consideration.
I spoon-fed my written portion with Veil-inspired answers.
Each showing empathy and fortitude. The physical portion was given the same formula.
Perseverance and patience. Nothing that would even become close to triggering a Noctryn response.
They’re rash, unapologetic, and unmerciful—the opposite of my Asylamation approach.
“Something you did or wrote threw them for a loop,” Mallory states, tapping her chin with her index finger.
Although not helpful, I agree.
Everyone stares at me like I have the answer hidden up my sleeve on how I got in this predicament.
Surprise.
I don’t.
“It’s okay. We’ll figure it out. I got you,” Ambrose says. “We’ve figured our way out of worse situations than this.” His words tell me one thing, but his eyes tell me another. This is uncharted territory, and he knows it.
Finnley sighs dramatically.
I lift the corner of my lips in a defeated half-grin. Same page, buddy. Same fucking word.