by MJ Prince
We drive in silence for most of the way, Raph seemingly lost in his own thoughts. I find myself sneaking glances at his profile. A strange sadness touches those impossibly perfect features and for the hundredth time, I wonder where he’s taking me and why. But I don’t push him. Something about that sadness reminds me of the quiet times when I think about my mom and I know the only thing I want in those moments is to be left to my own thoughts.
We finally reach a secluded mountain trail in what Raph tells me is the outskirts of Arcadia.
I don’t question Raph as he leads me up the mountain trail. If this had been only a few weeks ago, I’d be certain that he was leading me out into the wilderness so I could get lost and never return. But I realize then, as I follow him blindly to an unknown destination in this distant place, that there isn’t even a hint of suspicion in me. The thought is unnerving, because surely I don’t actually trust him? How can I, when he’s the same guy who threatened to break me and made my life miserable when I first arrived?
Raph stops when we reach a narrow cliff, overlooking a vast expanse of ocean beneath. I look down and see the terrifying drop to the rough waters beneath. Suddenly, I’m not so trusting.
“What are we doing here?” I ask, unable to keep the suspicion from creeping into my voice.
But Raph looks lost to the world in that moment. Something about his silence moves something inside me.
He sits down on the edge of the cliff, and then motions for me to sit with him. I hesitate for a second, but find myself sitting and I wait for him.
“I was ten when my mom died,” he says finally, and I can feel the surprise reflected in my expression when I turn to him, but I say nothing as I let him continue.
“She battled with depression for years. I guess I was too young to really understand what that meant, but I remember knowing that she was always so sad. She never spoke about it, but I think she hated the pressures of being part of a sovereign Dynasty, being married to the head of the St. Tristan Dynasty and the mother of the future heir to the throne. The constant scrutiny, always being watched, living life in the public eye. My father’s attitude didn’t help things either—he’s all about appearances and preserving the St. Tristan Dynasty. Having a wife who was severely depressed was a scandal that he didn’t want anyone knowing. So it was kept a secret and all the while, she deteriorated, pulling further and further away. Until one day, her body was found washed up on the rocks down there.”
The revelation floors me and I feel like I can’t even breathe. In that moment, I let my guard down, just as Raph seems to have done, and I feel the sadness and loss wash over me. Feelings which are only too familiar but totally unexpected coming from this guy who I’ve always believed lived a perfect life and had never wanted for anything, who didn’t know what it was like to lose someone he loved.
But I was wrong because he does. He knows only too well. I feel something shifting inside me, although I haven’t moved an inch. It’s the same feeling I got when Magnus unveiled this whole new world to me. The feeling like the whole universe is shifting, that everything I know to be true, everything I believe is changing and the feeling that some part of me would never be the same again. I keep those thoughts to myself as Raph continues to reveal parts of himself that I’m sure no one else in this entire world has seen.
“My father made sure that everyone believed it was an accident—she was out here hiking and fell. But he knew better, and in time, so did I.” There’s a tinge of bitterness in his voice then.
“Your nightmare last night …” I begin to say.
He nods slowly.
“I have them sometimes. It’s different each time, but she’s always falling and it always ends the same—her body lying twisted amongst those rocks.” Just like last night, I get the feeling again, like his words mean so much more than I’m letting myself hear.
“I come here every year on her death anniversary. I’ve never brought anyone with me … but I wanted you here with me today.”
This shocks me into stillness, but I don’t let the meaning of it sink in. I don’t ask why, because I’m sure that I don’t want to know the answer.
“I do that, too,” I find myself saying instead.
“On my mom’s death anniversary, no matter which foster home I’m in, however far, I go back to Rockford Cape where we lived. I visit her grave and spend a few hours at the beach where my mom used to take me. I visit the tacky amusement park that she used to love taking me to and walk along the stretch of beach that she loved. I don’t know why I do it, I guess because all of the different foster homes felt so temporary and that place, our place, was like my only anchor.”
I can feel Raph’s eyes studying my profile as I look out at the overcast sky above and the tumultuous waves below.
“Your painting that day in the art studio, of the beach—was that the place?” he asks.
I nod silently. Magnus had told me on that first day that Eden was in many ways a mirror of Earth and in that moment, in the face of Raph’s confession about his yearly commemoration of his mom’s death, I’m surprised to find that there are parts of his life which are a mirror of my own. It would have been impossible to believe only a few weeks ago that his perfect life could be anything like mine, but I realize that there is darkness hidden in the depths of his light. A darkness that I recognize. A loss so deep, that you need to bite the inside of your cheek just to keep from crying out.
“Hey, I guess we’re both screwed up then,” I say finally, trying to lighten the mood, because the air between us feels so thick right now, that I’m finding it difficult to breathe.
“But I still think I’ve got the worse deal—my mom being killed in a car crash, then finding out ten years later that my absentee father was, in fact, a king of an alternative realm, who recently killed himself, is pretty difficult to beat.”
Raph smirks in response and something inside me is glad that I’m able to make him smile. Even if it is that smirk that usually infuriates me.
His face grows serious then.
“Did Magnus tell you how it happened?” Raph asks. “Your father’s suicide, I mean.”
His words cause pinpricks of discomfort to race through me, because I’m not ready to talk about this.
“No,” I reply quietly.
Raph watches me for a long moment.
“Do you want to know?” he asks finally.
I shake my head in response, not trusting myself to speak. We’re both silent for a moment.
“One day, I think I might,” I say finally. My voice is hoarse, even to my own ears.
“But right now … I’m not ready.”
Raph just nods in response. He doesn’t push me, doesn’t force the subject.
We sit there next to each other for what seems like an eternity, watching the rhythmic movements of the waves below.
After a while, Raph gets up and surveys the tide. When he turns back to me, there’s a mischievous twinkle in those impossibly blue eyes which tug at my curiosity.
“The last thing my mom said to me was to live like I was alive. I didn’t know what it meant back then. But I know now.
“So, when I come here each year, I do something to remind myself of what it feels like—to be alive.”
That mischievous glint coupled by those last words, make me think that I’m not going to like what comes next, not one bit.
“What is it that you do?” I ask anyway, the hesitation clear in my voice.
Raph grins back at me, the earlier sadness fading, or just retreating back into wherever he keeps that part of himself hidden.
He holds out his hand to me.
“Do you trust me?” he asks.
There’s a million reasons why I shouldn’t, even if he has just shared something with me which he’s likely never shared with anyone else.
But I find myself taking his hand and letting him pull me up to my feet.
We’re both standing at the edge of the cliff, looking down at deadly drop,
at the waves crashing against the rocks below. The height is dizzying from this angle.
“Jump with me,” Raph says simply.
Alarm and panic shoot through me because I think he must have lost his goddamn mind.
“Are you crazy?” I almost shout.
Raph just looks amused.
“No. Trust me, it’s safe,” he says.
He holds out his other hand and the waves beneath us swell higher. I can see what he’s doing, making sure the tide is high enough to break the fall. But that doesn’t mean I’m about to willingly agree to jump off this cliff with him.
He’s watching me as I freak out internally. But I don’t feel any pressure from him. I could say no and I’m certain he wouldn’t force the subject.
I’m terrified as hell at the sight of the drop. But something inside me feels the thrill of the risk, the danger.
I think I may have lost my mind, too, because I find myself nodding silently.
Raph flashes me a daredevil grin and doesn’t give me a second to chicken out, because the next thing I know, I’m hurtling off the edge of the cliff, down towards the crashing waves beneath.
My scream is lost in the wind whipping crazily at my face as I fall. I can barely register my own body parts but distantly, I can feel Raph’s hand still gripping mine. The fall is terrifying and exhilarating at the same time. Every fiber of my being buzzes with awareness and I know I’ve never felt so alive in my entire life. For the few seconds that we’re falling, my mind blanks completely and there’s no loss, no pain, no anger. There’s just the feeling of falling.
Our hands separate as we crash through the surface of the ocean beneath. The water is ice cold and my whole body feels like it’s been plunged into the Antarctic.
I panic for a second, but it’s enough for the tide to pull me under and then I’m really panicking.
Raph is there in an instant, though, grabbing my hand again as he kicks up to the surface, taking me with him.
When we finally break through the surface, I’m sputtering and coughing. Sea water is spewing from my mouth and I’m pretty sure it’s not a good look.
Raph is just laughing at me, though, and his impossibly blue eyes blaze even brighter with excitement and adrenaline. The shade is so vivid, that I find it hard to breathe for a second, although that could just be the sea water in my lungs.
“Oh, my god! You asshole. I can’t believe you talked me into doing that!” I cough out.
He laughs harder in response.
“Don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy it.”
“Urgh,” I reply in exasperation. He might be right, but I sure as hell don’t want him knowing it.
I turn and start swimming towards the shore without another word, afraid that if I had to look at that smug face a minute longer, I’d end up drowning him.
I reach the shore and if I thought I was cold in the water, the feeling of the chilly breeze against my already frozen skin, is even worse. I’m seriously thinking that I’m going to get hypothermia. Raph reaches the shore a few seconds later and although the sea is Baron’s element, Raph himself looks like some kind of ocean god as he emerges from the waves. He belongs to the elements and they belong to him—every ray of sunlight, every crashing wave, every gust of wind, within his control.
The image is swept from my mind though, when Raph opens his mouth.
“Nice bra, Jaz.” He smirks as he fixes his eyes directly on my chest. I look down and to my horror, I find that my light pink bra is clearly visible through my soaked white school shirt. I can feel my face flame in embarrassment when I realize that the lollipop pattern on the bra is clearly visible, too. I kick myself for choosing to wear this bra today of all days and seriously, I wonder for the hundredth time, who the hell Magnus got to stock my wardrobe. But it’s not like I had any idea that I’d be ocean diving off a cliff today instead of going to class.
“Stop staring at my bra, you asshole,” I reply through gritted teeth. But it just makes Raph’s smile grow even wider.
“Urgh. You’re such a pig!”
He chuckles as he shrugs off his school blazer, and he surprises me by dropping it around my shoulders, over my own blazer. I’m even more surprised to find that although his blazer is soaked, it’s as warm as a heated blanket. I pull it tighter around me instinctively.
Raph notices the fine tremor which is now racking my body and wraps an arm around me as he guides us back to his car. I want to push him away, but he’s so goddamn warm, that my heat deprived body protests at the very thought. I’m horrified at myself when I feel my body snuggling closer to his. The infuriating grin on Raph’s face tells me that he senses both the snuggling and the horror.
“Just so you know, I’m only doing this to stop myself from turning into an icicle,” I snap.
“Sure, Jaz. Don’t worry, I won’t hold it against you.”
My apprehension eases a fraction but his next words just make my temper rise again.
“But I can’t promise that I won’t make fun of you for it.”
“I think I preferred it when we hated each other,” I grumble.
“Aww, are you finally admitting that you don’t hate me anymore?” he teases.
“No. I still hate you,” I reply quickly, although I know it’s not true. There’s no doubt that Raph still irritates the hell out of me, but as much as I’d still like to think so, I know I don’t hate him anymore. I let myself admit that maybe I’d been wrong about him. He’s still a spoiled prick and an insufferable asshole most of the time, but the other parts of him that I’ve glimpsed tell me that there is so much more to him than the shallow, self-centered prick that he seems to want everyone else to see. That maybe our worlds aren’t so far apart after all. It’s a heretical thought, and not one that I want to entertain, so I shove it away quickly, because letting myself believe it feels dangerous.
“Well, I don’t hate you,” he replies, as we reach his car.
He turns to me then. His arm is still around me and I’m suddenly aware of how close we’re standing, so close that I can feel the warmth of his breath on my chilled skin and when those vivid blue eyes lock onto mine, I feel the heat in them, too.
“I don’t hate you at all.” His voice sounds strangely husky, and I can feel alarm bells ringing in my mind.
Our eyes lock and for what seems like an eternity, yet no time at all, I see him. Not the heir to the throne of Eden. But a contradiction, wrapped in a puzzle, topped with riddle, and all over it are warning labels telling me to stay the hell away.
I force myself to step back, cold panic replacing the chill racing through my flesh.
“We should go,” I manage to say, although I can hear the tremor in my own voice. I tell myself it’s the cold.
His eyes burn into me like twin flames for a moment longer before his golden lashes sweep down, shielding the intensity of his gaze.
He nods finally, and as I get into the car, I try to remind myself of the lines I’ve drawn between us, but somehow, I can’t see them anymore and although my feet are now firmly on the ground following the earlier cliff dive, somehow, I feel like I’m still falling.
19
“Watch this,” Keller says as she dips her fingers into the large lake. It’s a few days after the insane cliff dive and Keller has taken me deep into the forest at the far edge of Regency Mount Island.
I watch wide eyed as something forms on the surface of the clear blue lake, a pattern like fine white lace. Starting from the spot that her fingers are touching, then spreading out to the rest of the lake.
“What the hell …” I hear myself saying, but my voice sounds distant, even to my own ears because I’m too busy gawking at Keller freezing this lake over with just one touch.
“That’s amazing,” I add.
She stands back, surveying her work proudly.
“Know how to ice skate?” she asks.
Before I can answer, she gestures to my leather boots and I watch in astonishment as blades of pure ice
materialize at the soles.
“Thanks for offering to help me out by the way.” I realize then that although we’re on our fifth session, I haven’t even bothered to thank her yet.
She waves her hand dismissively.
“It’s nothing. Call it me making amends for the part I played in all that crazy shit that happened at the beginning of semester.”
It feels like an age away now, but something occurs to me then.
“Isn’t Layla pissed at you for even speaking to me?” On my first day at Regency, I saw Keller walk into class with Layla and Dani was categorical about her description of Keller as one of Layla’s cronies. Although, after getting to know her, it’s difficult to imagine this girl being anyone’s lackey. She’s tough in a way that tells me she doesn’t take shit from anyone, Layla included.
“She can be as pissed as she wants, but she can’t tell me who I can and can’t speak to. I mean I’ve been friends with Layla since forever and she can be nice when she’s not being a bitch. But that doesn’t mean I can’t make other friends. I like you—you’ve got guts and you’re not scared to speak your mind. It’s a rare thing around here, when practically everyone is so caught up in social status and wealth.”
I’m surprised at her insightful response.
I follow Keller onto the ice then and we skate a few rounds before she stops me at the center of the lake.
“Here, try to create something from the ice—like this.” She sweeps her hand up and I watch as the ice beneath us extends upwards to form an elegant spiral figure.
“I can’t do that!” I reply.
We’ve worked on doing snow and wind the past few sessions and I managed to create some icicles last session, but this is entirely different.
Keller’s not taking no for an answer, though, and she’s not someone I want to argue against.
So, I focus on the connection to the ice beneath me and I sort of just lose myself as I begin to move. It feels like nothing I’ve ever experienced before, but at the same time, it feels so familiar—like the feeling of abandonment and calm that washes over me whenever I paint. I realize that it’s because I’m doing the same thing—I’m creating something. But rather than creating it on canvas, I’m using the element of ice itself, bending it to my will to form the beautiful sculptures.