I haven’t asked myself that in so long it catches me off guard. “Of course.”
Shit, I don’t even believe myself.
“Are you okay?” Ember hangs back with me as the bell rings and the others move toward our first class. She looks concerned. “You seemed so eager to go with your dad.”
“I almost left, but there were no guarantees we’d even be in the same part of Nevaeh had I gone, and with this thing with Draven … I didn’t want to leave without figuring it out,” I tell her, the lies tasting dirty in my mouth. I add with a bit of emotion, “And, I knew I’d miss you too damn much.” I bump her shoulder, surprised by how true my words ring.
“Well, I selfishly hoped you’d stay.” Ember gives me a tight squeeze. “But I want to hear more about everything later.”
“Okay,” I grin, but inside I’m panicking—I don’t want to lie to her more.
“Like what thehellsis a fated mate?” She grimaces and I’m glad that I’m not the only one learning everything from scratch.
“And why is the blushing bride-to-be wearing such an impenetrable mental shield? Hiding something, Rune?” Kasper hisses,and I glower at him as he lopes off after the others, still scrutinizing me over his shoulder. I hate that he’s a High Priestess Arcana, that even among my friends I have to be on edge.
I feel a cold hand at my elbow. It’s Morgan, pulling me back from the others. He lowers his voice. “So … you and Draven. I’m guessing you’re going to accept the bond? Quite a bit of money there.”
My jaw hangs open at his degrading tone. There’s something possessive in his eye. As though he’s annoyed about the nature of me and Draven’s arrangement. The next lie has been written, but I find myself giving it with a lot more ease, as it’s true. “Draven and I have a lot more in common than I thought. His net worth has little to do with how he values me.”
“I didn’t take you for someone who buys into all this immortals’ crap. They say you’re meant to be, and you just accept it?” Morgan scoffs. “I guess I just thought you were smarter than that.”
“You’d rather I consider him for money than love?” I’m surprised how his words chafe me. Maybe it’s the vow I’ve made with Draven, or maybe it’s the fact that last night he saved my life. Not that I can tell anyone that. Or maybe it’s just that Morgan is acting like an asshole.
“Let’s not pretend to be things we aren’t.” Morgan looks me up and down, a cruel glimmer to his eyes. “He’s a rich prince and you’re a Wraith. I assumed maybe you were getting close to him to find out what the hells he’s up to all day every day. But at least money made sense.”
“Draven’s … not what he seems.”
I turn to go but Morgan’s hand grips my arm, almost painfully. I yank my elbow out of his grasp, and he holds his hands up. An apology, if not in words.
“You can’t trust him just because he’s pretty. I’ve seen the way he looks at you,” Morgan hisses. “It’s not puppy love. It’s like he’s plotting how best to use you.”
Maybe, but at least Draven doesn’t grab me like I’m some insolent child.
“I can take care of myself.” I keep my voice level.
Ahead of us Wynter turns back, watching Morgan like a hawk, his brows sternly drawn together. Morgan folds his arms across his chest, anger waffling into something meeker.
“I’ve watched him cross the Oval with his guards, disappearing into the darkness before the sun rises. I don’t trust him, or whatever he’s up to. You shouldn’t either.” Morgan stalks after the others.
I hesitate. Most of Morgan’s words I can dismiss. But Draven is gone before me each morning. He’s usually back to the Hearth later, too. I see him occasionally, across the room during sparring, but not every day and not nearly as much as I should when we share a house. He’s a prince, so I never questioned his constant absence.
But … whatdoesDraven do all day?
THERE’S NO SPARRINGtonight thankfully, and I’ve spent the day preoccupied with what my new partner in this world might be hiding. But Draven’s not at the Hearth at the end of the day to question. Sitting around alone in the big empty house has me bored and antsy, so at the last minute I decide to take up the others on their usual after-hours studying. I’m still struggling to draw the World card, or access its powers, a tightness growing in my chest with each failure. I need to learn everything I can to protect myself and prepare for anything thrown at me.
The memory of King Silas calling me a waste leaves me bitter. But if there’s one thing that sets me apart even more than my Arcana … it’s the level of vindictiveness I’m capable of.
Wynter meets us all outside Judgment’s Hearth, which is just next door to mine. We learned in Professor Vexus’s class that some of the most accomplished Judgment wielders can use the reverse form of its power to speak to the dead or use them as an army. I’ve only seen Draven powerful enough to coax the dead to speak, when Mira killed that changeling. But I saw his father use it to command the living just last night. For an Arcana concentrated in controlling the living and the dead, it’s not surprising how eerie the Hearth feels. The pitch-black halls, the marble-tiled floor patterned between ivory and onyx, the dark coffered ceiling. A large ambiguous stone figure stands in the entry hall, shoulders balancing a set of scales that gently move up and down. As I draw closer, looking beneath its hooded cloak, I see a skeletal face snarls back at me, frozen in fury.
Wynter walks right past it, as if he’s already grown bored of the interactive sculpture. He gestures for us to join him beyond it, his hand caressing my upper back for the briefest moment as he guides me into a large, comfortable sitting area.
That light touch shouldn’t send so much warmth through me, but it does, and my attention flickers back to him. Those silver eyes meet mine, so opposite of Draven in their openness, their humility. They flicker to my lips for the briefest moment. I have to look away as the weight of my deal with Draven hits me. These lingering glances, and the potential here, are not an option anymore.
Carved skeletal hands hold zenith in their sconces, the little dark crystals carrying collections of electricity, tiny versions of the great columns in the court that pulsed like trapped lightning.I never realized they were the source of energy that kept the castle lit or our cold box frozen. I can’t help but admire the gilt accented throughout the space either. It’s all surprisingly cozy.
Wynter slides the doors closed behind him once everyone settles on the expansive couch. He drops into the space beside me, his knee brushing against mine. I notice Cleona sits close to Amaya, unsure around our group. The two of them have been spending more and more time together, but I think it’s her first time at one of these sessions, too.
Ember grins at me, her notebooks brimming with pretty adornments, everything color coded and organized. “So, midway exams are coming up the last day of Tenth Month. Last week we went over how Minor Arcana can affect each of our Major Arcanas. What else might be on the exams?”
