Jayme had moved back into the boys’ dormitories at the beginning of February, and now he accompanied her to all her classes. Kyle made himself scarce. Alayne rarely saw him anymore, and she hated it. Then she felt guilty for hating it. She mentally beat herself up each night before she went to bed as she warred back and forth with herself about maintaining a friendship with Kyle without being faithless to Jayme. Most days, she ached for Marysa’s comforting hugs and wise advice.
* * *
One brisk February morning, Professor Grace took the Throw-Casting class outside to a nearby field. The weather was still cold, but the sun shone down through the brittle air, making the students shade their eyes. They gazed at the professor standing on a fence post near the field.
“You all have done well to throw your element bends as far as you have.” Professor Grace’s tiny voice was almost lost in the open air. “But the walls of the classroom are a poor limit for your potential. I want you to learn distance.” She clapped her hands and pointed.
“Today, I will be dividing you into groups of four. Two from each group will stay in this field here,” she motioned behind the fence where she stood, “and the other two in the group will go to the field behind that tree line. You will not be able to see each other. You must use your senses that you’ve developed over the year to find your teammates and to bend the elements in their general area. Higher grades will be awarded to those who are the closest to their marks.”
Alayne glanced at Jayme, attempting to pull herself out of her mental lethargy. “You’ll do well with this one. Remember the arboretum when you threw that whirlwind at Daymon and the others?”
Jayme shook his head. “I was watching from the hedge. I could see what I was doing. This is going to be harder.”
Professor Grace walked down the line, randomly grouping the students. When she reached Jayme, she pointed to the girl on the other side of him. “Mr. Cross, you’ll go to the other field with Miss Cadell. You’ll be throw-casting to Miss Worth and Mr. Houser.”
Alayne stiffened. She heard Daymon’s sharp intake of breath. Professor Grace misunderstood Alayne’s reaction. “Don’t worry, dear. It won’t kill you to be out of Jayme’s sight for one class period.”
Alayne blushed. “No, ma’am.”
Professor Grace clapped her hands. “Okay, class, two of you from each group to this field, and the other two start hiking!”
Alayne took a deep breath and climbed the fence into the field in front of her. She felt Daymon’s presence behind her. She waved goodbye to Jayme as he and Jordyn took off for the opposite field.
Wading through the waist-tall grass was easier as other pairs plowed through in front of them. Alayne and Daymon stalked the crushed trails. Daymon’s head was bent, his eyes intent on the ground in front of him. He’d managed to put a ten-foot space between the two of them.
They found a clear spot far from the others, and Alayne stopped. Daymon grudgingly stopped as well, though he kept the space between them.
At last, Alayne spoke. “Are you scared of me, Daymon?”
He whipped his head up, his eyes burning as he glared at her. “Are you kidding? Scared of you? In your wildest dreams.”
“Then why are you avoiding me?”
“Avoiding you?” He laughed incredulously. “I avoid you because I don’t like you. We have a history, or did you forget? Isn’t that reason enough?’
“It wasn’t the whole first part of the school year. You didn’t like me then either, but you went out of your way to make me miserable.” Alayne stopped as Professor Grace stood near the tree line to give further instructions. She could barely hear her, but she understood that they were to begin “finding” their partners in the other field.
“What about me scares you?” she asked bluntly as soon as Professor Grace wasn’t looking.
“Nothing.”
“You practically ran away from me when I cornered you in the gym.”
“I told you, you don’t scare me,” he snapped.
“Does it have something to do with the pool incident?” That was when his treatment of her had changed. He’d gone from sneering at her at every chance to completely ignoring her. Maybe she was the one he’d been discussing with his uncle when she’d overhead their conversation. But once again, the same question flooded her mind. Why?
Daymon’s jaw tightened. “No. Aren’t you supposed to be finding your boyfriend with your crazy magic skills?” He nodded toward the trees.
“Magic?”
“You heard me.”
“What are you talking about, Daymon? I bend elements. I’m an Elemental. Just like you.”
“You’re a Quadriweave.”
Though Alayne had already been sure he knew, the blood still drained from her face.
Daymon stalked toward her until he was close enough to wrap both hands around her throat if he had chosen. His sapphire blue eyes glared stormily into hers. “A Quadriweave who has ties to the Vale. And that makes you magic.”
“So now you’re going to tell me where the Vale is?” Hope surged through her.
Daymon immediately stomped on the idea. “Don’t mess with me, Alayne, I mean it. You have no idea what you’re getting into or what I’m capable of.”
Alayne’s defenses surged, and she spoke before she thought. “Don’t mess with you? Don’t you mess with me. Fine, you’re right, I’m a Quadriweave.” She shocked herself with her own admission. Marysa knew. Dorner had known. But she hadn’t even told Jayme.
He’s saved your life. More than once.
He’s still an awful person.
He lost his parents at a terribly young age. Maybe you feel sorry for him.
Maybe ... or maybe he’s not the monster you’ve always thought.
Alayne relaxed her battle stance. “Anyway,” she muttered, “what does being a Quadriweave have to do with you?”
His eyes shot sparks. “Everything,” he said between clenched teeth.
“Mr. Houser, Miss Worth, let’s see what progress you’ve made.” Professor Grace’s chirpy voice interrupted the intensity, and Alayne stumbled backward. “We’re—we’re working on our strategy, Professor.”
“Well, let’s see it,” Professor Grace encouraged. “Give it a shot. I’ll watch your group from the tree line.” She hurried away, and Alayne shook her head. She closed her eyes, searching the elements for a sense of Jayme’s presence. She knew him so well by now, he shouldn’t be too hard to find. She reached first for a large grouping of air elements, sure that they would be in abundance around an Air-Master. As she searched, she heard a shriek of wind from the other field.
Professor Grace whirled from the tree line, an amazed grin stretched across her face. She clapped exuberantly. “Well done, Mr. Houser! Full marks. Alayne, I expect you to come up with something by the time I come around again.”
Alayne blushed. She whirled on Daymon. “What did you do?” It wasn’t fair; how had he found them before her?
“Put your boyfriend and his partner into a wind tunnel.”
“You better not have hurt them.”
Daymon rolled his eyes. “Oh, please. I seriously hope you have a better opinion of Jayme than that, or you won’t last three months.”
Alayne bit her lip. “Why do you have that tattoo? Where did you get it?”
Daymon had leaned down to tie his shoe, and his fingers paused for a fraction of a second. He finished tying, then stood to face her. “What tattoo?”
“The one on your back. The Quadriweave symbol.”
Daymon stepped close again, but Alayne didn’t feel as threatened this time. “How do you know about that?”
“Jayme saw it and told me.”
Daymon’s face, so angry a moment before, smoothed completely, all trace of emotion gone. He shrugged. “Just a tattoo.”
“Can I see it?”
Daymon’s eyebrow cocked and for the first time, Alayne saw a trace of amusement light his eyes. “You want me to take off my shirt? What’s y
our boyfriend going to say?”
“No—not—” Alayne stopped, miffed that he’d tangled her tongue. “I want to see the tattoo. Will you please just show it to me?”
He chuckled. “Show it to you, a Quadriweave? Are you kidding?” He glanced over her shoulder. “Grace coming. You better come up with something quick.”
Alayne wildly searched the other field for where Jayme would be. She had to calm down; Daymon had ruffled too many feathers. She closed her eyes, breathing deeply, and let herself feel. In the far corner of the field, the familiar sense of Jayme’s person exuded itself among the air elements.
“Miss Worth? Have you got anything to show me yet?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Alayne kept her eyes closed.
“Go ahead, please.” Professor Grace’s voice was farther away. Alayne assumed she must be heading to the tree line. She concentrated on collecting the water element from the surrounding air above Jayme’s presence. Borrowing from her Air-Master skills, she cooled the temperature of the surrounding air enough to form ice-crystals in the small cloud and then let them fall gently around where Jayme stood.
“Nice job, Miss Worth.” Professor Grace nodded her approval. “I see you made up for your mistake earlier. Please be ready when I first call on you next time, all right?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Alayne watched Professor Grace walk to the tree line and cross over to the other field. “Guess it’s our turn now.” She turned back to Daymon.
He watched her warily from where he had backed several feet away. Alayne moved closer to him, determination tightening her jaw.
“Listen, Daymon. My best friend is out there somewhere, and unless I can find the Vale, then I will never see her again, and I leave her in the hands of the Shadow-Casters to get tortured, maybe even killed. I think you know something about the Vale, and I want you to tell me. Right now.”
Daymon’s face, already serious, shadowed even more. For the first time, uncertainty flickered in his eyes. He crossed his arms in front of him. “Or what?”
“I’m a Quadriweave, remember? I blew Crede’s tornado to smithereens when he threw it at me. I know you saw it, and I know you know what I can do, so don’t think I won’t use all four elements to put a little pressure on you.”
“Do you really think I’m scared by that? Oh no, the almighty Alayne is after me. Watch her pelt me with an ice storm. Maybe blow a little fire in my face.” He narrowed his eyes, dropping his arms to hang loosely at his side. “I’ve got news for you, Layne. What I’m part of is way bigger than any threats you can make.”
“What are you part of, Daymon? How about we start with that?”
“I can’t tell you that.”
Alayne wanted to scream with frustration. “Daymon—” She halted, searching for a way to break through his defenses. With an effort, she slowly reached out, one hand tentatively touching his arm. She felt the bunched, hardened muscles under his skin. “Daymon, please.” Her voice was softer this time, gentler, although a thread of desperation wove its way through her tone. “I need help. If you have any decency or shred of compassion, please help me.”
He stared in silence at her for an eternity of seconds. At last, he opened his mouth. “I can’t tell you, Alayne.” The words were deep and rough, as if dragged over gravel and shattered beneath a pestle. “I am under oath, and I cannot break that oath on pain of death. Not just my death, either.”
Alayne blinked in confusion at the raw pain that sliced through his sapphire gaze. “What do you mean?” she asked.
He was silent. At last, he whispered, “I’m sorry.”
The earth beneath them shook, just a slight rumble, and a small fissure opened up in the ground between their feet. That would be Jordyn, she thought numbly, still confused by Daymon’s confession.
“Isn’t there any way I could make you change your mind? For Marysa’s sake? Anyone I can talk to that would release you from your oath?”
He shook his head, and for the first time, Alayne could read the misery that had been veiled behind his shuttered face for as long as she’d known him.
“No. The oath runs in my family. Breaking it would mean denying history, denying my roots. And I would die, along with the rest of my family.” He slowly shook his head. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”
His sincerity bled through the blue pools of his eyes. He’d actually apologized, twice, and strangely enough, Alayne believed him. Despair flooded her. He had been her nearest hope for finding the Vale, and now, she’d come up empty.
A breeze tickled her feet, threading around her calf and thigh, up past her stomach, around her arms to her head. It tickled the end of her braid, feathering the loose strands of her hair that had escaped, and tossed them in its playful gambol.
Daymon dropped his gaze. “Looks like Jayme’s done his thing now anyway, so we can go.” He turned and walked back across the field toward the fence.
Alayne watched him leave. He’d refused to help her find the key to the Vale, and she couldn’t get past him to figure out what it was.
* * *
Alayne tiptoed out of the chute into Tarry’s dark office, glancing around, although she could see little in the pitch-blackness. Only faint starlight filtered through the windows to light the room. Alayne pulled out a tiny penlight. It hadn’t worked for years, but since she’d gotten better at bending the elements, she could get the small tube to shoot a decent beam of light. She wondered what the heat was doing to the inside of the plastic, though. So far, it hadn’t eaten through.
She lit the tube and shone it around the office. Tarry’s desk was empty, as expected. The entrance to Professor Sprynge’s office was closed. Alayne advanced stealthily, listening hard for any out-of-place sounds. The only sound was the distinct thudding of her own heart.
She hesitated as she neared Sprynge’s office door. A year ago, she would never have considered breaking into anyone’s office, much less the Chairman’s. And yet, here she was. For Marysa. It’s all for Marysa. If I can find Daymon’s connection to the Vale, I’m sure I’ll be able to find Marysa.
She reached the door of Sprynge’s office, turned the knob carefully and eased it open. Darkness shrouded the room. She shone her penlight inside. Nothing had changed much in the months since she’d spoken with Dorner here. The soft gurgle of the massive fish tank’s water filter bubbled in the silence.
She crept over to the filing cabinet and tugged on the drawer labeled H-N. It was locked. Alayne set her jaw and pulled the elements, blasting the lock with the full force of all the heat she could muster. The lock began to glow a fiery red. She kept going, grunting with the exertion. After a minute, she stopped. She didn’t want to set anything on fire.
The smell of hot metal tickled her senses. She grasped the handle once again and pulled. The drawer came open. Alayne eyed the melted lock with satisfaction. It hadn’t even leaked melted metal onto any of the files.
She quickly searched the folders: Hoskyns, Hound, Houser. She yanked Daymon’s file from the drawer and opened it carefully on Sprynge’s desk, scanning her penlight over it.
Daymon Houser, from a City Centre north of Clayborne by about two hundred miles named Havendale. Relocated to Skyden when he was twelve. The note stamped on the bottom in red letters said, “See Confidential files.”
Alayne narrowed her eyes. She slammed the folder shut and stuffed it back into the file drawer. Rifling quickly through the other files, she realized the confidential file, wherever it was, wouldn’t be in with the normal files. She glanced around the office, finding nothing.
She left the filing cabinet, running her hand over the desk and along the sides, searching for a crevice, a hidden drawer, anything. When she hit the far side of the desk next to the fish tank, she paused.
The water element in the tank felt a little off.
Slowly, she straightened and watched the fish as they swam through the dim backlights of the tank. She reached out, brushing her hand over the water element, and hit an air pocket.
<
br /> Ingenious. Awe flooded her as she pulled the element apart, and in the middle of the tank, the water cracked and then parted to reveal a secret compartment. Three sets of small, flat file drawers stood in the compartment, alphabetized like the other files.
“Wow,” she breathed. Reaching up, she flipped the tank’s lid open, plunging her free hand into the water toward the files. Her fingertips entered the secret compartment, barely reaching the files. She carefully held the water element away as she fingered the folders, searching for Daymon’s name.
Some of the names she didn’t recognize. She flipped quickly through them and found Daymon’s file halfway through the H’s. She pulled it out and laid it aside for the moment, moving to the W’s. She wanted to see if Dorner had kept any information on her Quadriweave status.
She found two files under the W’s. Alayne’s finger parted the tabs, pulling both up for a closer look. Her mouth opened in disbelief. Her own name stared back at her from the first folder, and on the folder directly behind hers, the name Wynn Prynce had been carefully printed. Worth had been added later in parentheses.
Chapter 23
Alayne felt sick. She thought back to the times where she’d remembered, clearly, asking her mother if she was an Elemental.
No, Alayne, I’m not.
Liar. Liar, Liar, Liar!
Alayne wanted to throw something, to rage and scream, to destroy her mother’s file, to shred it to a phantom of a memory. Her jaw ached from holding in her emotions. Why, Mom? Why did you lie to me? She took a deep breath and pulled her mother’s file out through the tank, careful to hold the water element free of the folder.
Flipping the cover open, she held the file closer to the light that filtered from the fish tank and glanced over the pages inside. The normal information filled the first page: name, date of birth, place of origin. Nothing new there.
Alayne turned the top page over, glancing at the next paper in the stack. Her mother was a Water-Wielder. A lump formed in Alayne’s throat. Like mother, like daughter. A hand-drawn circle caught her eye on a clipping from a memorandum that had been highlighted near the bottom. It read:
Mark of Four Page 26