by Alex Lidell
A shiver runs through me, the amulet around my neck burning hot in warning. The last time I went against the veil’s magic, Coal paid in screams of agony. My mind races, and there is nothing feigned about the fear rising through my core. Rushing through River’s choices, I know I can’t deny the first and last options, which leaves only one available route. One that an innocent cadet would certainly take.
“This is the second time you’ve implied that someone else is writing my papers, sir, which is as insulting as it is untrue. I’m here to study and would very much like to do so tonight.” Raising my chin, I step forward to get past the male, my mind promising me that he has no proof. Not yet.
River’s palm slams into a tree trunk behind by head.
I jump, the slapping sound echoing through my bones, my lungs breathing in a phantom stench of turned wine and rancid sweat that clings to Zake’s clothes. My heart stutters, my mouth suddenly dry as the man towers over me, his thick arm blocking my path. My shoulders curl, bracing for the coming blow, my breath caught in my throat as my heart pounds—
“Leralynn?” River’s voice splashes over me like ice water, washing away Zake’s memory. River, not Zake. Stunning, large, and infuriating River. The reality that had momentarily fogged over recrystallizes into focus just as quickly. I scowl at the male whose muscled arm blocks my path and shove the arm away.
River’s arm gives only a hand width, a condescending shift along the tree’s trunk that sends a jolt of fury through my already primed core. My racing blood heats, now rushing so fast that it rumbles in my ears, feeding the tension vibrating the air between us. “I’m here to study,” I say again. “Now let me pass.”
As if my deception struck a tender spot, a storm passes over his face, turning his gray eyes to thunder.
“You are lying.” His nostrils flare, the restrained, dignified male beside me shifting into the fae predator beneath.
At once, I am aware of how isolated the reflection garden is. Don’t move a muscle, my mind screams at me even as heat pools low in my rebellious body, my instincts waking despite my mind’s orders. I’m a predator now too, and the leashed violence surrounding us is impossible to ignore. A tangle of need races from my sex, down the backs of my thighs, making my toes curl.
River growls.
For a moment, all I can think of is his bedchamber, River’s naked body silhouetted against an evening sun. It’s been so long since I was allowed to press myself against that body, feel its ridges and contours against every curve of my own. Magic rouses inside me, filling my muscles and lungs with a power that can do nothing in this shackled world, but will try anyway. My face tilts up to meet the fury of his eyes. “With due respect, why do you think I’m here, Deputy Headmaster?”
He leans down toward my face, the air between us sizzling.
Wetness slithers along the inside of my thigh, my sex throbbing painfully. I don’t know whether I want to put my fist through the male’s nose or rut with him right here amidst the manicured ferns. I bare my teeth, flashing the fangs he can’t see but no doubt feels with whatever part of him remains fae.
River’s pulse hammers hard enough that I can hear its pounding. Once. Twice. Then the male finally speaks. “I don’t know.” His voice is a low, primal bass. “But I will find out.” Shoving away from the tree, he turns and stalks free of the garden, while I press my back against the rough bark.
Dong. Dong. Dong. The distant bell calls, announcing the time window I so gloriously missed and dooming the eradicant batch to spoiling before we ever try it out.
“Everything you are, you have, you’ll ever become is because of my good graces.” Zake’s voice snaps along with the deafening crack of his belt. The strap ends wrap around my ribs, making me scream loud enough that the horses whicker in discontent. “When I order a horse saddled, you saddle a horse. You don’t lie. You don’t pretend he’s lame to save yourself a bit of work.”
If you took him out again, he would be lame. I swallow the retort because it doesn’t matter. Zake works his horses until they break, then puts them down in search of better stock.
A pain slices through my back, so sharp and deep that my knees buckle. I slide down the wall, pressing myself into a corner.
Zake looms over me, his chest heaving, the scar on his furious red face filling my vision. My breath comes in short bursts, my heart racing so quickly that my hands shake. It isn’t over. I know it isn’t. My stomach cinches, the gripping fear making me dizzy.
“Get back up and face the wall,” Zake says too calmly for the pounding inside my head, his belt slapping softly against his own thigh. “We are not done, and it will be worse for you if I have to force you.”
I lurch awake to rushed strokes of a lupine tongue lapping my face, Shade whining softly as he steps all over my chest. Outside the window, a hint of light outside speaks of wee morning hours.
“Bad dreams?” Arisha asks, sitting up in her own bed.
The terrible feeling in the pit of my stomach calms slowly as I try to shove two hundred pounds of wolf off me. “Nothing of consequence.” I rub my face, debating the merits of going back to sleep. Maybe I’ll take it easy today for once, find some time to nap between classes. My gaze shifts back to the window, the faint gray light dispelling that fantasy in favor of the grim truth tightening my chest. There will be no rest today. It’s Ostera eve.
6
Lera
Come ride with me
The horses paw ground.
Come fly with me
There’re secrets to be found.
The stunning singer closes her eyes, swaying to her own melody while a string ensemble behind her fills the Great Hall with soul-gripping music, all the way to its high arched rafters. Beneath the silk ribbons and flower garlands of Ostera, cadets and instructors dressed in brilliant shades of blue and gold finery swing across the dance floor, their intricate steps perfectly matching. The hundreds of candles and lanterns make them look like a swirling mass of daylight. Even when royals from different kingdoms connect hands, the basic steps of the dance come easily to the experienced partners. Yes, they’ve all had dancing lessons. Probably at about the same time they learned to read and ride horses and calculate the amount of grain needed for ten winters in an imaginary kingdom with seven seasons.
“Where are you going?” I grab Arisha’s wrist as the girl takes a determined step toward the exit. Dressed in a pale yellow gown with embroidered sunflowers trailing up its bodice, Arisha looks like a proper lady for the ball—or did before the sneezing and face rubbing smeared lip paint and kohl in dark patches over her skin. “You can’t leave me alone here.”
Arisha dabs her nose. “I need to help Uncle Gavriel get your…things…ready for tonight.”
I wince. With me getting ambushed by River last night, the eradicant batch I was supposed to test had gone bad before I could deploy it. My fault, even if Arisha tries to pretend it isn’t. Which all means tonight will be it. With the added potency Ostera equinox infuses into magic, we can’t let the singular opportunity pass, so Gavriel is preparing the whole batch. Nerve-racking as the thought is, however, I’d still rather be out there in the wilderness than stay here.
“You can handle one more hour.” Arisha pats my hand, her voice dropping. “Midnight, Lera. You leave here at midnight, as soon as the requisite Ostera waltz is over.”
“Why can’t I leave now?”
Arisha looks at me over her glasses. “Because I’m leaving now, and that will draw enough attention without you disappearing as well. No one leaves the ball before the Ostera waltz—that’s the whole point of the celebration. River is already watching you like a bloody hawk—do you truly want to draw extra scrutiny to yourself just to avoid a few hours of socializing?”
I nod, my throat tight as I watch my friend leave. At the front of the soaring hall, the singer leafs through her music folio while the dancers recover with goblets of punch and small pastries. Laughter and conversation swell, making my urge to fle
e even stronger. Without Arisha’s presence, I feel as exposed as if I were naked, my eyes on constant vigilance to note anyone who might be looking at me too long or, worse, making a move toward me. Each time a boy shows signs of considering taking me to the dance floor, I stride with purpose to some place on the other side of the room.
Not that Arisha made tonight any easier by commissioning this dress for me along with hers, a cascade of vivid blue satin that hugs my waist and breasts, leaving my back bare—and too little to the imagination. It might as well be a beacon alerting the whole room to my presence. I left my hair loose in an effort to cover up more of my skin, but now I think it was a mistake. In the candlelight, its red tones shine almost as brightly as the dress.
I feel someone’s eyes again, just as the violins pick up a new song. Turning my head, I discover my chest tightening at Tye’s emerald stare. The male looks breathtaking in his sapphire tunic and flowing black pants, his every movement filled with power and grace even when he’s doing something as simple as standing still.
I head for the punch. When I look back up, Tye is twirling Katita across the floor, the princess following his lead with a trained perfection that makes my stomach squeeze. The pair are such a whirlwind of color that the others clear the floor just to watch them spin. I don’t see why the veil went so far as to insert complicated dancing instructions into Tye’s head when it couldn’t even deign to teach me how to spell “instructions.” It didn’t, a voice inside me says. Tye’s entertained females for centuries—he knew how to dance all along. You are the one who grew up in a stable.
Gripping the stem of my goblet with a low growl, I turn away in search of something else to look at. Midnight. So close and yet so far. My eyes snag on Coal leaning against the far wall. Unlike Tye, Coal’s only deference to the festivities is a clean black shirt, matching the dark look on his face. Perfect. Whatever else, no one is going to want to come within Coal’s killing radius—a fact that I am not above using.
“I’m holding up the wall just fine on my own,” he says when I lean against the gilded wallpaper beside him.
“You never know.” I take a sip of my punch. Even in his simple black shirt and pants, Coal looks devastatingly handsome, eyes blue ice in the candlelight, strong face sharpened by shadows, pale hair hanging loose to his shoulders. His masculine scent swirls around me, and I have to remind myself not to inhale audibly. After a month of almost zero contact, our coupling is still as fresh in my mind as if it happened yesterday—if anything, it’s only grown in potency with no new experience with him to replace it.
Or maybe that’s an effect of Ostera too. Everything is more vivid. The magic, the trees, the dreams.
His jaw tightens, the silence stretching between us twisting uncomfortably.
“I’m sorry about spooking yesterday,” I say finally.
He keeps looking at the dance floor. “You were right to. I wouldn’t let me anywhere near my neck.” He runs his hand over his forearm, and I see the outlines of a vambrace with throwing knives beneath the loose sleeve. “If you are taking over wall support, I’ll find some other occupation. Excuse me.”
I stand alone for some time before setting my punch down on one of the trays. Midnight is still twenty minutes off, and I need a reprieve. Spotting one of the circular staircases leading to the mezzanine, I hold up the front of my full skirt as I climb the steps. A few paces away from the stairs, an ornate set of double doors promises an escape to fresh air. And privacy.
Sending a short thanks to the stars when I find the handle unlocked, I step out onto a balcony so large, it looks like a floating terrace. Unlike the torchlit hall below, the terrace is dark but for the moon above, which adds more atmosphere than light. The sounds of music drift from the Great Hall below, the merriment of overexcited violins a gentle backdrop to the night.
Even out here in the open air, the Academy staff have set out trellises of delicate jasmine and great vases filled with hyacinths, their blue, white, and pink flowers all giving off a slightly different perfume that my immortal senses separate out into soft strands. Crossing the ten paces to the railing, I place my hands on its cool stone surface and look out at the mountains. The forest that beckons with equal parts danger and excitement.
Perhaps it’s fortunate that I don’t know how to dance, since I can’t stay past midnight. It might be difficult to leave if I had something to stay for. Taking in a deep breath of fresh air, I work out the time in my head. I should show myself to the masses again before leaving, slipping back to the dance floor just late enough after the Ostera waltz starts that everyone is already occupied with partners. After the waltz, retiring should raise no eyebrows. Then I change.
Then I go out into night.
A soft whisper from the shadows to my left makes me jump, my hand going to where my sword would usually be. Heart spurring into a gallop, I note a previously stone-still form separating from the railing, the change in wind carrying me an woodsy scent.
River.
7
Lera
“Forgive me for startling you—I hadn’t expected anyone would come here.” River steps forward, his soft voice an odd contrast to my bounding pulse. Stopping a few feet away from me, he rests his hands in the small of his back, his eyes surveying the star-filled sky. He looks breathtaking, his tailored black pants and crisp blue and gold jacket highlighting every bit of his powerful physique. Despite his perfect posture and soft smile, there is a quiet, melancholy note in his voice that I’m not used to hearing. “It appeared you didn’t mark me, and I thought it poor form to keep from alerting you to my presence.”
My heart slows. River isn’t tracking me—I accidentally intruded into his sanctuary. Taking a breath, I look over at him, this time with care. As with his voice, the male’s face has a hint of sadness seeping through the controlled facade. My chest squeezes no matter how much I want to be irritated with him over yesterday’s interrogation.
“Why are you out here?” I say as the night wraps tightly around us, my words drifting into the darkness. “Do you dislike dancing?”
“I like it quite a bit, actually.” His jaw clenches before relaxing with visible effort. When I turn toward him and rest a hip on the railing, the male stays as he is. After several heartbeats of absolute stillness, I lose hope of the conversation continuing, but then his throat bobs as he swallows. “It is one of the many joys I had dreamt of showing my wife.”
Wife? A small shock of cold air rushes along my skin. The damn veil amulet gave River a wife? Despite every self-preservation instinct screaming at me to keep quiet, I can’t help the question from escaping my lips. “Is she coming to Great Falls any time soon?”
River’s shake of the head is so miniscule that a mortal would have had no chance of seeing it in the darkness. Just as his suddenly too-reflective eyes would have stayed safely hidden from view.
“Diana died in a riding accident exactly one year ago, on Ostera eve. She’d galloped her mare ahead of me on the trail, and the horse spooked and threw her. By the time I caught up to her, there was nothing to be done.”
My throat closes, the effort to pull air into my lungs suddenly too much. River’s pain is so palpable, I can feel it pressing on my soul. “I’m sorry,” I say, meaning it. Just as I mean to destroy the damn veil that did this.
He turns to me, the space between us suddenly too large and too small at the same time. The night sculpts his body, the deep shadows somehow making his muscled silhouette as defined as a sculptor’s masterpiece. Large as he is, I have to tip my head up to see his face, my eyes skipping over the pointed fae ears to land on his piercing gray eyes, his short dark hair ruffling in the breeze.
“She looked a great deal like you,” he says softly. “And had a stubborn streak to match.”
I try to smile, but the ache in River’s voice makes it nearly impossible. I wish I could say something. To tell him that—that his Diana has not died, that she’d never existed. Better yet, I wish I could say that I’m
her. Except that isn’t true either. The Diana in River’s soul is a peer to him, while the real me standing before him is just a cadet, and a pretender noble at that.
The unfairness of it all makes tears burn in my throat.
In the Great Hall below, the violins play a fast prancing tune. It must look gorgeous with the couples swirling around the floor, the girls’ gowns opening like flower petals with each swing. But I don’t belong there.
“And what of you?” he asks. “What brings you up here this night?”
I turn back toward the mountain range splaying open before us, my immortal sight and the starlit sky giving me a good view. “I don’t enjoy dancing.”
“For someone who lies as much you do, I would think you’d be better at it.” He says it as a curious fact, his soft tone carrying no hint of malice, as if the night has declared some sort of temporary truce between us.
I shrug one shoulder and leave it at that. Down below, the instruments finish the ditty and change tune. This time, the music is a slow, three-beat piece that makes me think of flying. One, two, three, one, two, three, one, two, three. The notes hit their marks, my core rousing to their beautiful rhythm.
From the corner of my vision, I see River cocking his head, his eyes losing focus as he takes in the same melody that has my thoughts spinning. “The Ostera waltz,” he says. “It is bad fortune to sit it out.”