It’s hard and cold beneath my skin. I hold my breath and wait. Slowly – as if the stone is sensing my blood, tasting it, deciding if it’s worthy – I watch as the swirls of colour move beneath my palm. Mint, jade, a deep forest green. So many beautiful shades live within the stone that for a moment I forget about the pain in my hand, too enraptured with the beauty of it all. Until finally, my heart gives a deep aching thud when I suddenly realise how long I’ve been standing still. Nothing has happened.
No!
‘Come on,’ I whisper to the stone, pressing my hand harder against it as if that’ll get it to work and I’ll be sucked in by sheer force of will alone.
‘Comeon,’ I beg again.
‘Arianell Nocthare,’ I hear Headmaster Zain’s commanding voice ring out behind me, ‘Malachite has not chosen you.’
My eyes squeeze shut. My hand drops from the stone and hangs limply at my side as embarrassment and disappointment pierce through me. Reluctantly, I slowly pivot on my heels and turn around, just to find Sebastian looking at me with a smug expression on his face. It throws me off kilter, because again, who the hellishe now?
Deciding to ignore him, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing my eyes prick with tears, I leave the alcove. I push back my shoulders, grit my teeth and pass Agate’s door to head over to Opal’s. The unit both my parents came from, and the one I always thought I would choose.
The unit leader of Opal doesn’t smile, or greet me, but at least he doesn’t look at me like he wants to snatch the dagger from the dais and shove it into my back.
I take it as a win and stride forward.
Once again, I place my hand against stone, watching flickers of rainbow shards shimmer within the pale, iridescent gate. It’s undeniably beautiful, the way they almost dance around each other. Shards of light reflecting every colour I could think of inside this wall. A wall of stonethat, even after an full minute has passed, does not pull me to the other side of it.
No.This isn’t right. This isn’t how it was supposed to go. Of any unit, Opal is supposed to bemyunit. It’s what I had always planned. So why didn’t it accept me?
I pull my hand away and glance over my shoulder just in time to hear, ‘Arianell Nocthare, Opal has not chosen you.’
No one else has been rejected by two Units.
My cheeks heat.
The only unit left is Agate. Confusion settles between my brows as I walk back the way I came and stand before the gate swirling with browns, reds and oranges. The colours move around each other in thin rings like the middle of a tree trunk.
This doesn’t feel right, but I’m left with no other choice, so I press my aching palm to the stone and once again, I wait. A cold dreaded silence follows, stretching on for what seems like minutes as I stand there, willing it to accept me. But … it doesn’t.
‘What?’ I pull my hand back, examining the cut along my skin. Maybe there isn’t enough blood. Maybe I need to cut my other hand and offer fresh blood?
I squeeze my hand, making a fist, hoping to draw more blood from the wound, digging my nails in. Despite my eyes pricking at the pain that lances through my hand and up my arm, I quickly slam my palm against the stone.
‘Miss Nocthare …’
‘Just give it a minute,’ my words come out in a desperate whisper as the headmaster’s voice is followed by the pounding of blood in my ears.
‘… Agate has not chosen you.’
I don’t understand.
A sharp laugh comes from beside me. I look back to find the unit leader of Agate peering down her pointed nose at me, with ire in her eyes. ‘No one wants you here, traitor scum. Even the gates reject you.’
FIVE
Iknew I would not be accepted well by the students of Valmora Academy. I walked in here prepared to face their taunts, their anger, their pain at the loss of their friends and family being sacrificed to dark magic. I knew deep down their hatred was misplaced and believed that I would find a way to prove it if it was the last thing I did.
What I didnotexpect was the academy’s deep well of ancient magic rejecting me as well.
Even the stones reject you.
Bartollo calls me back to the dais. With heavy feet I climb the steps and find myself standing before him once again.Stars, his presence is overwhelming.
‘As you witnessed,’ he announces to the remaining crowd, ‘neither Malachite, Opal, nor Agate accepted Miss Nocthare this night. But that does not mean they won’t change their minds.’
What? My eyes widen as a minuscule amount of hope blooms in my chest.
