by Lucy Smoke
He gently rests his hands on my shoulders. “You’ll be able to see her, but not today,” he says.
“Why not?” I ask. “When can I see her?”
“She’s not someone you just show up to see,” he explains. “I promise, I’ll get you in to see her.” Booker’s full lips turn down, the lower one twisting slightly. “She... uh... doesn’t much care for me. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to go with you.”
“She doesn’t like you?” I ask incredulous. “Why not? How are you going to get us in to see her if she hates you?” My insides churn like boiling acid is being shoved around in my intestines.
“She doesn’t hate me,” he quickly assures me. Not that it really does. I breathe deeply as I await a better explanation or reassurance, whichever comes first. “It’s just…” he tries again, face scrunching up for a moment before he sighs, giving up. “Oh, never mind,” he gestures absently. “She loves Luca, so he’ll be able to take you to meet her even if I can’t.”
“Luca looks just like you,” I point out with a raised brow.
“Not always, but anyways, she can tell the difference. Call it a gift of hers or whatever you will.”
“Okay,” I say. “So, Luca will take me, Coen, Titus, and Holden to meet this woman. Who is she? You said she’s a mentor?”
Booker’s hands drop away from my shoulders. “Madam Armaita is the President of the University of Oracles.” His eyes slide away from mine and I cross my legs, folding my arms over my chest.
“You go there and the President doesn’t like you?” He runs his palm through his hair again. I note that he likes to do that when he feels frustrated. It’s an adorable habit. “Why doesn’t she like you?”
I snort and as I stand, he says, “I’ll tell you some other time. What do you say we get out of here and go look around the city?” I take the hand he holds out for me and rise from my seat.
“Are we all going out?” We head back in the direction of the kitchen and the greenhouse room.
“If the others want to go, I won’t stop them.” Booker glances at me out of the corner of his eye. “But, I was thinking we should get you some more clothes and supplies.”
I pause at the threshold into the greenhouse room. “Thank you for letting us stay here. You didn’t have to and you don’t know us–well, you know Holden, but not the rest of us.” I groan. “I’m messing this up. Ugh. I just wanted you to know that I was grateful.”
A small smile teases his lips. “You’re welcome, Nerys. My home is your home for as long as you need. I have a feeling this was meant to happen, that you were meant to find me here.”
“You believe in Fate?” A strand of hair falls on my cheek and I brushed it away, looking back up into his serious green eyes.
“Yes,” is all he says.
“Nerys, come eat!” Coen calls from the counter and I leave Booker at the threshold feeling like I have a strange string tying him to me that pulls taut with each step I take away from him.
Chapter 5: Madam Armaita
Our reflection comes and goes in the passing windows of the train as we speed through the streets of Ragnarok. The train runs through every inch of the city and is the fastest way to travel, faster, even, than motor vehicles. My eyes are focused on the scene before us even as the others in the train car crowd closer. The lights of the elongated bullet shaped machine sweep across the glass reflections as we pass through yet another square station for embarking and disembarking.
“Only a few more stops to go,” Luca says, leaning in close. I nod my head and let my eyes feast on the wonder of the new sights, sounds, and smells. Someone in this part of the city is baking bread and my stomach rumbles with hunger. Booker’s shocked face turns to me.
“You just ate,” he comments with confusion. “You can’t be hungry again, can you?” I grin sheepishly.
“I’m a growing girl,” I reply seriously.
Coen chuckles. “She could out-eat any of us any day of the week,” he confides. Booker blinks at this new information as his eyes run up and down my figure before he turns away. I still hear the words under his breath.
“Where does she put it all?” he mutters.
We arrive unceremoniously at the golden gates of the University of Oracles which is a massive campus of marble and stone. All of us disembark and remain at the university platform until the crowd disperses. Some people are still left wandering about, but when the amount of people dwindles, Booker gathers everyone close for our assignments.
“Titus, Holden, and Luca, you’ll go with Nerys to meet Madam Armaita,” he says. “Coen and I will be meeting with a friend of mine to establish transportation out of Ragnarok for the six of us.”
“I’d like to go with Nerys.” Coen’s words are polite, but his tone brooks no argument. Unfortunately for Coen, Booker is immovable.
“I need you with me,” he replies. “Nerys will be safe with the others.” Coen’s bulky chest bows out even more as he takes a breath and glares at Booker.
“I will be going with Nerys.” Booker sighs and reaches for one of his shoulders, turning him away from us and walking several feet away while he whispers quickly to him.
Luca is smiling as he taps his feet against the platform and his fingers against his legs. He winks when he catches me staring and I abruptly glance away. The weight of my new clothes is light and airy and a breeze rolls over the pavement, brushing the loose pants legs flat against my skin.
“Alright.” Booker claps to get our attention again as he and Coen stroll back to the group. “Now that we’re all settled. We’ll meet back here in two hours. Titus, Holden, and Luca please take care of Nerys. Nerys,” he pauses, looking me over. “Try not to get into trouble.”
“Who?” I ask in mock outrage. “Me? I would never!” A smile breaks out over my face before I can complete the sentence and Booker’s eyes roll for a moment so brief I think I might have imagined it.
“Just try?” he asks. “For my sanity, please.”
I salute him. “You got it, boss.” Coen pulls Titus, Holden, and Luca to the side before we’re allowed to leave much in the same manner Booker had done to him. After several moments of hushed lecturing, Holden tries to back away only to be yanked back by Coen’s hand on his nape. The lecturing resumes.
“Let’s move out,” Booker announces once he’s done. Luca takes my hand and Titus and Holden follow closely behind us.
⚜⚜⚜
The University is massive and crawling with people. Half of Ragnarok must go here, I think as we bypass yet another outdoor class with at least a hundred students all piled across a short stretch of green lawn. The ocean air and the birds circling the skies above us only add to the noise level.
Luca’s hand in mine is warm and soothing, especially since Coen’s often overbearing and protective presence is missing. It’s refreshing in that I feel like he trusted me to take care of myself (even if he had lectured Titus, Holden, and Luca about not letting me get into any trouble).
Madam Armaita’s office is in the tallest building on the top floor. From what I’ve gathered so far, her office is also an apartment of sorts, with several rooms cordoned off for her personal use.
I wonder briefly if she’s a bird shifter. A woman who lives alone in a high tower definitely has a few of their qualities. We reach the building and Luca punches the correct button into a pad by the elevator lift and we begin to ascend. The doors open to an empty but elaborate hallway carved straight through the building in an oval.
Office entrances are rectangular cutouts along the sides, the doors remaining closed as we walk by. Luca pulls us to a stop at the last one and raises his hand to knock.
The massive slab of wood opens before his knuckles can land and a woman, even shorter than me, with silver-pale hair stands there with her hands on voluptuous hips. Her body is a mass of confusion for me as I take her in. Her eyes are youthful, her face untouched by time, but her hands are bony and withered, her hair gray. I can’t tell if she’s young o
r old, but with the title President of the University of Oracles and Madam, she must be older than her face appears. Her eyes, white and crisp all the way to the reddish-brown circles surrounding her pupils, examine Titus, Holden, and I as we stand there.
“Well, come in then,” she says suddenly. “I haven’t got all day, now, have I?” The woman ushers us into her office, stopping for a moment to give Luca a lingering hug filled with affection. “I haven’t seen you in too long, darling.”
He ducks his head bashfully, but smiles at her. “I’m sorry, Madam.”
“You never visit anymore,” she chides. “I have more than half a mind to blame that master of yours.”
The room is elegant, though not too extravagant as I expect it could have been. There is a lush couch along one side of the wall with a dark wood desk set in the middle of the room, piled high with small globes and papers. A chair sits against the back wall, between the two great windows through which light pours in and illuminates the room. The woman turns from Luca to examine the three of us–Holden, Titus, and me.
“Madam Armaita,” Luca says, extracting himself from her grip. “I’ve brought a few friends to meet you. This is—”
“Yes, yes, your master—that boy— told me about your friends,” she interrupts, her gaze returning to us. I eye her warily. “This is the daimon, I presume.” She takes a step forward and instead of motioning for me, she touches Titus’s hand, drawing him forward. Startled, Titus follows her with a stumble. “He’s quite handsome.” I choke back a laugh behind my hand as Titus realizes her mistake and jerks away from her.
“No!” he says forcefully, before calming and shaking his head. A laugh escapes from between my lips and I clamp a hand over them to keep more from slipping out. Holden chokes behind me, trying to keep his own laughter under control. Titus’s ears flush pink.
“What I mean to say is,” Titus corrects, straightening his jacket. “I’m not the daimon. Nerys is.” He points me out with a finger as if laying blame and my amusement cuts off when Madam Armaita’s looks at me. My spine snaps straight.
“A girl?” Madam Armaita comes forward and circles me slowly. I watch Luca for any reaction to see if this is normal, but he merely stands to the side with a small indulgent smile while I feel like prey caught in a predator’s trap. “How unusual. We haven’t had a girl daimon in quite some time.”
“Is that normal?” I ask. Joan of Andromeda was fairly well-known and she was female.
Madam Armaita simply shrugs. “Who knows why the Gods and the guides choose who they do. Spirit guides are merely beings that enhance a human’s ability, like a divine conduit. It’s quite intriguing, isn’t it?”
Luca steps forward and bows his head respectfully before giving her a playful smile as if they’re old friends. “We need to find out what’s wrong with her spirit guide, Madam, if you would help us.”
She smiles back and pats his cheek before turning to me. “What seems to be the problem?” she asks.
“He doesn’t talk,” I say. “Well, I mean, he does, but not much. Booker says it’s unusual.” I attempt to explain as her sharp brown eyes watch me with fascination.
“Alright dear,” Madam Armaita graces Luca with a smile before turning back to me.
“Madam.” Luca’s voice is both soothing and chastising and she melts like ice on a warm day. “Can you do anything?”
“Of course, darling.” Her features soften every time she looks at him and I frown. “I may be able to find the cause, though a fix isn’t guaranteed.”
“We understand,” Luca replies.
“Let me grab a few things.” As she ambles away, Luca leans down to my ear.
“I was Madam Armaita’s familiar,” Luca whisper-explains. “As a changeling, I’m able to take many forms. Changelings have been familiars for powerful witches, soothsayers, and oracles for centuries.”
I stop frowning. It explains their closeness and why she’s so familiar with him in a way someone of her position at the university likely wouldn’t be. The Madam sighs once more, stopping before us with a bundle in her arms. She doesn’t even pretend that she wasn’t listening in.
“Yes, and you were my favorite,” she says. “That damn boy had to go and steal you from right out under my nose.” Though her words are said with a bite, her smile and affection soften the blow.
Luca smiles down at her. “You no longer needed my assistance.” He looks back at me, with Titus and Holden hovering nearby, listening in. “I bonded to Booker not long after we met in one of Madam Armaita’s classes.”
“A thief, that one is,” she says airily. She may pretend anger and hatred, refusing to use Booker’s name, but it’s obvious she over indulges her love for Luca and that makes me like her.
“I still visit,” Luca defenses weakly. Her red-brown eyes glare at him for a split second before the facade falls away into a forgiving smile.
“Not nearly enough, but never mind that now, we have work to do,” she says waving a wrinkled hand at him. I’m still having a hard time matching the age spots on her fingers and knuckles with the smooth skin of her cheeks and I find myself flicking back and forth between the two. She catches my preoccupation and grins with a lift of one slender gray eyebrow. “Come on, let’s get this show on the road. I’ve got spells to grade.”
Madam Armaita gestures for me to follow and I do, with Titus and Holden close behind. Out of the corner of my eye I see Luca shake his head at them. Curiously, I glance over my shoulder and they stop at his nod.
“Wait, aren’t you coming?” I ask. Madam Armaita stops outside of a short gray door in the corner of the room. It looks just big enough for the both of us to pass through but any of the guys would have to crouch and wiggle to get to the other side.
“Only those by invitation are allowed in the ceremony chamber,” Luca says.
“The what?”
Luca sighs, shaking his head. “We’re not coming, Nerys. But, we’ll be right out here.” He gestures to a big overstuffed chair between two windows on the fair side of the room and then proceeds to sit in it.
Titus and Holden glance between us and I’m shaking as Madam Armaita rolls her eyes and grabs the edge of my jacket, towing me behind her while still managing to juggle her instruments and powders.
Cool air rushes over my skin in the darkened room. A single candle set in the middle of a small table on the far end of the chamber illuminates our way. Madam Armaita continues to tow me in that direction, stopping only when we reach the table and she sets her tools down. She starts separating her things, placing the powders a certain way, adjusting a bowl and pulling out a vial of her sleeve with clear liquid.
“Phoenix tears,” she answers my unspoken question when she catches me staring.
“Where did you get those?” I ask.
She smirks before raising a hand and snapping her fingers. A scraping sound starts from one side of the room and jerks in our direction until something hits the back of my knees and I’m tumbling onto a slow alter table. I grunt as I land and the table shoots up just a few inches until she decides it’s the perfect height.
“I have many students here, darling,” she says. “Now, just relax. This shouldn’t hurt.” Before I can ask her what shouldn’t hurt, the room is gone, replaced by a gray cloud that engulfs me as she raises her hands up and sends several bits of powder drifting over me. My vision is gone and there’s a sharp prick on my arm.
“Don’t scream,” she says as my mouth opens for startled yelp. I manage to cut myself off but not without severe anxiety crawling its way up my throat. I want Coen or Luca or Titus or Booker or even Holden to be here with me. I want someone I can trust and I’m not quite sure if Madam Armaita is that someone.
To be honest, even though my friendship with the guys is still fairly new, they all have a stake in me. Holden and Titus had left their homes because of me. Coen is my best friend and has been for years. Booker…I suppose Booker is simply helping because of his past friendship with Holden a
nd Luca might only be here helping because of Booker, but they’ve been so good to me, I can’t picture them turning on me. The presence of my spirit guide fades in my mind, which sends even more panic reeling through my body, tightening every muscle until I’m pulled taut like a rope ready to snap.
“Take a deep breath,” Madam Armaita says, her raspy voice sliding like rough gritty sand through open wounds. “And let yourself float into your stream.” Something yanks me into a moving rhythm, like water beneath my body,
“My stream?” I manage to choke out, gasping from the pressure on my limbs.
“It is your past, your present, and your future. Your stream,” she repeats. “You need not fear it. Your stream is simply who you are, who you were, and who you will become.”
That’s what I’m afraid of. I don’t have to resist saying so though, because speech becomes impossible as I start to move faster, the cloud water swirling under me, over me, speeding along a pathway that I could neither stop nor break.
“Let’s start at the beginning, shall we?”
As if I have much of a choice. I grunt as my body comes to a stop along the stream, holding me at a standstill, my arms tied to my sides, unable to move. Madam Armaita hums as images flicker above my head. Dark cloaks stopping outside the doors of the holy women’s chapel and orphanage in King Matric’s city. A small bundle is deposited at the front door while one figure knocks on the door before both disappear in a faint swirl as Madam Armaita reaches forward and runs her fingers through the clouds displaying the image.
She hums under her breath. “Not important, moving on.” I open my mouth to ask about the scene but before I’m able, I’m catapulted further along. I come to a jarring stop as pictures snap through my vision.
The images change like sliding through like the movie reels Booker had shown me how to use. They had been banned in Matric’s Kingdom. I stop floating and another scene performs in front of me. I’m washing sheets with other orphans from the holy women’s orphanage that had been hired on in Matric’s castle. Later I’m preparing the bedchambers for a special guest of the king’s with a girl called Ashia. She slips and falls into a wardrobe, breaking a vase nearby. A guard hears us and she’s crying as I lie and tell them it was my fault.