by Sacha Black
“The oath is complete. You should rest here for a few hours. You can seal the Binding with that kiss if you wish,” Amori says, grinning at us.
“With pleasure,” Trey says, his eyes narrowing with lust.
We’re both unsteady. With our hands still wrapped, we bring them between our chests. But I wobble and collapse on the floor bringing Trey with me. We lie on the cushions, side by side, our hands pressing against each other’s chests, a blue spark pulsing in our eyes. The floor reverberates with the hum of Trutinor’s Heart; it’s almost as if the beats are singing a melody that only we can hear. I giggle, drunk on the power of Trutinor’s blood. Above us, the heart thuds on, only now, I can hear the drumming in my soul, and the faint thudding beneath it is my permanent connection to the oath: our oath.
“I can feel you,” I say, touching my forehead to his.
“I can feel you too,” he says.
Somewhere above us, Amori and Bertrum pad out of the room. The light dims further, the red hue deepening. The flame lanterns burn low, the smell of blood and love and power drifting through the room. The door clicks shut. We’re alone.
Trey kisses me, long, intense, and full of wanting. He’s too inebriated to control his emotions so the barrier holding back his Siren powers falls, and his feelings wash over me making me gasp. Waves of warmth, tingly love, lust, and a longing that permeates both of us, fill my body. I push my kiss deeper, my free hand roaming over his skin, abs, and back. He stops kissing me, his body becoming heavy as his eyes close. Mine close too; the light dims, and I fall into a drunken sleep.
Nine
‘With knowledge shall we judge, with experience shall we keep, and with love shall we choose.’
The full extended version Stratera Motto
At some point in the night, Trey must have carried me back to his bedroom because I wake to find myself in his room. For the first time since we were Bound, I didn’t have a nightmare. Smiling, I roll closer to him, relieved he’s there. Still alive. Still mine. Even though my sleep was dreamless, habit makes me put my hand on his chest, just to be sure. His ribs rise and fall in time with the soft snuffles coming from his nose. I snuggle in closer, leaning my head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. I breathe in because I love the smell of him, the faint aroma of yesterday’s aftershave, mixed with hot, sleepy skin. He mumbles, and rolls into me, kissing my head and then pulls my cheeks up to his face so he can kiss my lips.
“Another nightmare?” he asks.
For once, I can shake my head.
“Good,” he says, and slides his arms around me, pulling us even closer. His hands slip under the covers, lust burning in his eyes. Part of me wants him. Wants him to take my night clothes off and do all the things my heart is telling me I want. But I’m not ready. Not yet. He must sense my hesitation because he kisses me on the lips and says, “We shouldn’t hang around this morning, we need to get back to Stratera before the induction.”
The moment’s gone. I climb out of his bed and dig around in the overnight bag I leave here for some clothes. My fingers skim my arm, the heart-shaped scar still sitting in the middle of my wrist, but the blue spark has faded.
Pushing his deep red velvet curtains open, morning light pours into his room, making the sheets on his silky four poster bed shine. Trey’s toned body is bathed in light, and I can’t help but smile. But then something on his shoulder catches my eye: a white gash two inches wide; a scar. He fiddles with the curtain ropes, turning his entire back to me. I clasp my hand to my mouth, my smile falling as tears well in my eyes. His back is smothered in thick laceration scars. I walk over to touch his back, but he flinches under my touch.
“What the f…”
His shoulders sag, “They reappeared this morning.”
My fingers brush over the scars; this time, he lets me.
“What are they? How did you get so many scars?”
He closes his eyes for a second as if stealing himself; then he turns to me.
“I had a feeling Bertrum’s truth compulsion would override what was left of Eve’s magic.”
“What do you mean ‘Eve’s magic’? I don’t understand. What happened to you?”
“After I Inherited, the First Fallon ‘experimented’ on me. Or that’s what she called it anyway. She wanted to test my abilities, see what it did. Looking back, she must have been testing me to see if it would affect the prophecy cog. But back then, she said she was trying to make me stronger, help me control the Imbalance. The scars are what’s left of her experiments. Evelyn used sorcery to cover them up. But now she’s gone, her magic is fading. They would have reappeared by themselves anyway. I guess Bertrum’s truth magic overrode Eve’s.”
Tears sting my eyes as my fingers trace the lines of dozens of striations, some deep and wide, others uniformed shapes. His back is covered. Heat sears through my chest: anger; outrage; jealousy. Jealousy that Eve not only helped him in ways I couldn’t but knew things about him I didn’t.
“I hate that she did this to you,” I say, but I’m not sure if I mean the First Fallon or Eve.
“One day the First Fallon won’t be able to hurt any of us anymore.”
I wrap my arms around him, a couple of tears splashing onto his shoulders. “I know,” I say, and let him go.
I pull on the only clean pair of khaki-colored pants I have. A coin digs into my thigh, and it makes a lump form in my throat. The hexagonal coin came from Earth. Father gave it to me once when I cut my leg open; he said it would bring me good luck. I must have left it in these pants. I throw a dark blue t-shirt on, my eyes skirting over his back the whole time. Trey picks his towel up off of a chair and disappears into the bathroom as I’m digging through my bag. I realize I’ve left all my sweaters in our dorm room, so I open his wardrobe to steal one of his.
I pull a few shirts and jackets out of the way and freeze. There’s a set of Evelyn’s dresses still in his wardrobe. I stare at the silky fabric, remembering his spikey ex-Balancer and her hatred of me, and it makes my stomach harden. Why has he kept them? I swallow down the burn in my throat and close the wardrobe door deciding I don’t need a sweater after all.
A gust of wind whips around us as we climb the final few feet up the hill to the academy, and I shiver. For a brief moment, I wish I hadn’t been stubborn and had grabbed a sweater. But then I remember what was in his wardrobe and decide I’d rather be cold.
“Everything alright?” Trey says as we reach the front door of Stratera. “You’ve been quiet all morning.”
“I’m fine,” I say through gritted teeth, pushing open the large oak doors.
Professor Astra walks across the foyer toward us. Today she’s wearing black skin tight jeans and a halter neck top, her bronzed shoulders on show. Behind her, the First Fallon is waving her wand over the Door of Fates and staring at it with an intense expression on her face.
I turn to Trey, but his hand is on my back encouraging me into the foyer.
“It’s fine,” he breathes, “Professor Astra is here, and students are already starting to arrive. She’s not going to do anything.”
“Good morning, Fallon East, Fallon Luchelli,” Professor Astra nods to each of us. “I’ll need you to hand out tour timetables to the students. They should know what time theirs is, but there’s a pile of tour timetables in that box just in case.” She points to a stray box on the other side of the foyer. “Could you give those out. Oh,” she says reaching into her pocket, “and these are your official head boy and girl pins. I promise the rest of the year isn’t as menial as this.”
She affixes a cog shaped broach to Trey’s top. Then moves to me. The bronzed cog is simple, with the words ‘With knowledge we shall judge’ inscribed on it.
“What’s the First Fallon doing?” I ask as she pins the broach to my t-shirt.
“Investigating. The Door of Fates has remained dormant for centuries, perhaps millennia. But last night a student walked through the foyer and reported that it was vibrating. It appears the
maroon threads in the frame’s marble are pulsing somewhat.”
Trey looks at me, and I swallow hard, hoping our ceremony didn’t cause the activity.
“I’ll see you in the induction,” she says, and disappears.
Students push open the door to the foyer and stumble in, carrying coffee cups and bags of toast and baked goods. I pick up the timetables and hand Trey a wad. Both of us spend the next half an hour doing our best to direct students and avoid the First Fallon. But the flow of excited Keepers pushes me closer and closer to her until someone bumps into me, sending me tumbling into the First Fallon.
“I… umm. I’m sorry, Your Majesty,” I say, searching for Trey.
But the First Fallon has already grabbed my wrist to stop me falling over. She wrenches my arm around and lifts her fingers. Her eyes fall to the scar on my wrist and they narrow, her milk-white skin hardening as if she wants to question me. But she doesn’t. Instead, her fingers close around my arm, and a burning pain shoots through my wrist under her fingertips. I bite my tongue to suppress the scream.
“We’re at somewhat of an impasse, don’t you think?” she growls under her breath, then smiles to a student walking past.
“I’m not sure I know what you mean, Your Majesty.”
“Don’t bullshit me, Eden,” she breathes, “we both know what that prophecy says.” The heat in my arm sears to an eyewatering temperature, and I wonder if she’s done this to Trey.
“Don’t think I’ve let that little episode in the truth trial go.”
“I promise you; Victor is back. I wasn’t lying.”
“Don’t you understand? It doesn’t matter. Even if he is back, it’s nothing more than trickery and magic. Without…” she stops, straightens up, and continues, “look, I assure you, Rozalyn cannot break her banishment.” She loosens her grip on my hand. “It doesn’t have to be this way; we’re not on different sides. We both want what’s best for Trutinor. We both want Balance. If I wanted you dead, you’d be in Obex already. There can be another way, prophecy or not…”
Her eyes flash to the Door of Fates, her expression wavering for a second. She’s worried about something, and I want to know what she stopped herself saying. Trey appears, his jaw hard as he places his hand on top of the First Fallon’s. She stiffens and immediately withdraws her hand from mine.
“Trey, my dear boy.” Her voice is cold as his expression.
“Your Majesty,” he says as a flicker of fiery blue flashes across his eyes. “We ought to be getting to our induction.”
“Indeed, I was just leaving anyway. Eden,” she says, giving me a curt nod, “remember what I said.” Then she spins on her heel, walks a few paces, and vanishes in a puff of navy smoke. When the smoke dissipates, and I’m certain she’s gone, I let out a huge breath and rub my arm.
“Are you okay?” Trey says, looking me up and down.
“I’m fine.” I give him a weak smile, “Thank you for getting rid of her.”
He pulls me into his arms, but I’m stiff, still upset about the dresses I found this morning, and I wriggle out of his grip after a few seconds.
“I’m just going to get some fresh air. I’ll be back in a second.” His face falls, giving those me sad baby blue eyes, and I instantly feel a pang of guilt. I reach up and kiss him. “I’m fine, honestly.”
I push open the foyer door to the street outside and collide into a girl.
“Bo,” I say, looking up to see who I’ve bumped into.
“Eden, hey. You okay? You look… umm… Harrassed?” she scans me up and down.
“One of those mornings.”
“Do you want to talk about it?” she asks, touching my arm. She’s wearing a long-sleeved shirt with a high collar and black jeans, the right leg of which is cut off at the knee displaying her shiny silver prosthetic. She adjusts her stance, the brassy cogs clicking and whirring in her foot as she does.
I consider telling her about my run-in with the First Fallon, but that’s not what’s furling my insides. “Did Kato ever, you know… Like kiss anyone before, or anything?”
She frowns, “Not to my knowledge. Is this about Evelyn? You know he couldn’t help that.”
“I know. It’s not about her but what I found this morning.”
“What you found?” she waggles her fingers, “sounds kinky.”
“I’m not joking, Bo.”
“Okay, sorry, I’ll be serious. What did you find?”
“He still has some of Evelyn’s dresses in his wardrobe.”
Her mouth twitches as if she wasn’t expecting my answer. But then her face relaxes, “Honestly? Don’t read into it too much; maybe he just forgot to clear them out.”
“Maybe. I mean, it’s not like we’ve spent much time together, we haven’t even…”
Bo’s eyes widen, “You haven’t had sex yet?”
“Shhh,” I snap, glancing around us. “And no. I’ve only spent a couple of nights with him because of all the bloody State business and the fallout from the summer. And now I feel a bit weird about it.”
“Because of Evelyn?” She links her arm around mine, pulling me back toward Stratera foyer.
“Yeah, I haven’t slept with anyone and he and Evelyn… I guess I always thought whoever I was Bound to…” I shake my head, “maybe I’m being ridiculous.”
“I get it. You’ve been through a lot too over the last few weeks. We all have. But seriously, if he’s anything like Kato, you’re missing out on a hot bod.”
I laugh, knowing full well that the hot body gene definitely runs in the Luchelli family.
“We should go to the induction lecture,” I say.
“I know, it’s…,” Bo says, and is cut off by the front door of a dormitory building on the opposite side of the road swinging open and slamming shut. A girl who looks vaguely familiar stalks across the pavement, crosses the road, and marches toward us.
“Ah yes,” Bo says, “meet my newest family member.”
I squint at the girl as she takes giant, angry strides.
I turn to Bo, unable to hide the surprise, “That looks like Renzo Winkworth? Sort of…”
Bo pulls out her red lipstick and swipes it over her mouth nodding to the girl as she notices us. Either the girl doesn’t notice, or she chooses not to return the nod.
“And just so we’re clear…” I start, “that’s who Cassian’s Bound to?”
Cassian is Bo’s recently discovered brother. He was born before her parents were Bound, which made him dangerously Imbalanced. Maddison, Bo’s mother, hid Cassian on Earth and lucky for him, he was temporarily Bound to me, which Rebalanced him enough for the First Fallon not to slaughter him on the spot. In the space of a week, Bo lost one brother and gained another.
She turns to me, “Apparently so. We found her two weeks ago. Or, more accurately, she found us. The pull from the Binding got too much, and she had to come back to Trutinor. Believe me when I tell you, she was not impressed.”
I notice Renzo is wearing a scowl that’s as unimpressed as Bo’s description, and it makes me laugh. “Where was she? Boarding school?” I ask, “Arden’s always been kind of secretive about her.”
“Yes to boarding school. But not where you think.”
“Go on…?”
“She was at school on Earth.”
“Shut up? The entire time?” I ask, staring after her.
“The entire time.”
Renzo Winkworth, Fallon of the West and Arden’s remaining daughter, approaches us, dressed in black leathers, chunky shoes, and a dark t-shirt with the sleeves cut off. The t-shirt hangs off her tall skinny frame like an oversized, nightie, but it’s held in place by a gaudy rainbow-colored sweater tied at her waist. Her hair, like her sweater, is a mangle of colors and drawn back into a scruffy ponytail. Both her nose and lip have a silver ring through them, the latter of which she’s sucking in and out of her mouth. When she passes us, I swear I smell the faint whiff of smoke –human smoke: cigarettes.
She doesn’t ackno
wledge us.
“What was she doing at a boarding school on Earth? She’s only just been Bound. How did she even get away with that? It’s not like she’s any old Keeper. She’s a Fallon.”
“Special dispensation. I hear there’s an elite Keepers School on Earth.”
“Oh,” I say, suppressing the gnaw of jealousy. Bo and I were never allowed to go to Earth before being Bound because of the risk to our lives. The fact my father used to smuggle me out to Earth to practice is beside the point.
“Yeah, I know, I don’t get how she was allowed either. But do you want to know the weirdest part?” Bo turns to me.
But as she’s about to tell me, Cassian bursts through the same entrance Renzo left. He spots us, and her, and rolls his eyes, mouthing ‘women.’
“Rennie, babe. Wait,” he bellows in her direction.
She looks over her shoulder, gives him the finger, and continues marching off in the direction she was going.
“Dammit, Ren,” Cassian says, running his hand through his hair. “RENZO WINKWORTH, I said wait.” Cassian waves his arm. But it’s too late, Ren is already far off in the distance, her rainbow-colored hair bouncing around her shoulders as she disappears.
“Awkward,” I whisper to Bo.
Cassian’s cheeks flash pink, then he stands tall, shrugs, and says, “What?”
“Having trouble?” I ask.
“Oh, piss off, Eden.”
I laugh, so does Bo. He gives us the same finger Ren gave him before jogging off after her.
“Cassian doesn’t strike me as the type of guy to get rejected often,” I say, leading us to the foyer doors. “You have to tell me what all that was about.”
“You’re not going to believe this.” She waves to Kato as she spots him.
“Go on…” I say.
“Cassian dated Ren when he was living in Camden.”
“You’re right; I don’t believe that.”