When I don’t reply, her dark eyes roll. ‘Look, if you don’t want it, give it back. Otherwise go through that door.’ She points behind me.
I look over my shoulder and spot a wooden door nestled between two high-backed velvet emerald chairs.
‘That’ll take you to the stairs. You’re on the fourth level. This is the first. So just keep walking up until you get to a third door. Once you get to it, go through and your room will be the first on the left.’
Third door, fourth level, first door on my left. I try to make sense of her instructions, repeating them in my head a few times before I give her one last wary glance and nod. I stuff the necklace into the front pocket of my pants; I’m not putting it around my neck. It’s not mine, it doesn’t deserve to hang there.
‘Don’t make me regret helping you, Nocthare. Keep that hidden.’
‘I will,’ I vow, then turn and stalk toward the door. I’m reaching for the handle when she calls out a final time.
‘One last thing you should know.’ She pauses until I spin to face her. ‘They gave you your brother’s old room.’
NINE
Lillian’s words echo in my mind as my feet carry me up the narrow, winding staircase, around and around the outer edge of the tower. I pass the first door, then the second, and finally reach the third. My thighs burn from the incline of each step, and I’m grateful that no one else has come up or down to witness me holding the stone wall for leverage as I ascend the last few stairs. My breathing is heavy and uneven, and sweat beads at my temples.
I now understand how everyone in Malachite gets so fit. It’s because they must walk these starsdamn stairs all the time.
Slowly, I reach for the door handle, and I push my way inside. I’m met with a short hallway with six more doors running on either side of it.
First door on the left, I remind myself.
It’s a simple wooden door. There is nothing special about it, no significant marks or details that make it stand out from the rest. Plain, brown, normal. Yet my throat tightens.
Lukas.
For a second I let myself pretend that he’s still in there. It’s so quiet because he’s sleeping after a gruesome training session. I don’t want to wake him just yet, but I’m so excited to see him, because I’ve missed him. My big brother. I’ll be quiet, I won’t wake him, not yet. Maybe I’ll just gently sit at the end of his bed until he wakes up. He’s very tired.
As if pulled by an invisible string, I reach for the handle and turn. It opens with a groan and, with careful deliberate steps, I make my way inside.
Chaos. That is the first word that comes to mind as I stand among all the belongings I’d packed in my suitcase. Everything has been thrown across the room, and is now strewn about haphazardly, littering every surface. Clothes, shoes, books. My things are everywhere.
The door closes behind me with a heavy thud. On legs that feel numb, I walk slowly around my belongings until I reach the bed. I reach out and run my fingers through the charred pile of burnt fabric laying on top of it, filling the air with the scent of smoke and ash. Holes have been burnt into what I assume was once a blanket. Even the pillow at the far end of the bed lays in the heap of blackened feathers.
My hands begin to shake as I look down and spot my fingers stained with ash. Anger and pain twist around each other like two snakes battling it out for dominance.
They burnt my bedding.
They emptied my suitcase.
They trashed my room – mybrother’sroom.
They couldn’t even let me havethiswithout spreading their hatred all over it. Out of everything they have already done to me, said to me, saidaboutme. This has to be the worst thing so far.
Something between a sob and gasp gets stuck in my throat as I sink to my knees.
It took me a few hours to pick everything up from the floor, place my clothes into the chestnut dresser and find places for my books, shoes and other knick-knacks I brought from home. I even found a map of the academy that they must provide students, in a crumpled heap in the corner of the room. It’s now flattened in between two of my heaviest books, trying to get the creases out of it.
The bed took the most time.
Scooping up the shreds of burnt fabric, ashen piles and crispy feathers was slow work. I couldn’t do anything about the charred stain on the mattress, nor could I help the smell of soot that clung to it. So I wiped it as best as I could then flipped the mattress over, glad to find the other side intact without a single burn mark in sight.
With nothing left to do, I head back down the stairs to the common area. It’s late afternoon now, so I’m expecting to face at least a handful of students. I reach the door to the common area and find it slightly ajar. My hands are full, so I kick the door open. It cracks against the wall loudly, causing several heads to turn my way. Malachite students lounge over chairs and sofas, all gathered around the fireplace.
Perfect.
One of them is Lillian. She’s seated in the chair furthest away from the fireplace, so at least she’ll get out unscathed. She isn’t my target,theyare.
