by Melissa Marr
This time, Lily only nodded. She’d known that admitting some of her quirks to the staff was necessary, but she still didn’t like it.
Abernathy Commandment #6: Never confess your vulnerabilities if you can avoid it.
“I’m fine with the lifts when I must be,” Lily demurred.
“Well, in any matter, to reach the second floor you can use the staircases.” Mistress Cuthbert paused a heartbeat too long before adding, “I feel I should let you know that your suitemate is not representative of the majority of our student body. If you find that you need new accommodations, come see me, and we’ll find somewhere else.”
Having been dismissed with that mysterious statement, Lily walked out of the office.
Daidí had requested a single room, but for all of St. Columba’s indulgences, this was their one sticking point: everyone was assigned a suitemate.
Lily could only hope that hers was bland enough not to bother her overmuch. Living with someone who trailed glitter everywhere, for example, would surely bring out her less charming side. When she’d answered the questionnaire, she’d been very clear: studious, quiet, no smokers. There were a lot of traits she could learn to accept, in theory, but she required good sleep and clear air. Those were non-negotiable.
When she reached the lift, which looked about as modern as the rest of the building, Hector folded his meaty arms over his chest. “I can walk up the stairs and carry your bags to your suite, Lilywhite.”
“No. I can handle it.”
He titled his head in disbelief. Everyone on Daidí’s staff knew that she struggled with closed spaces. Lily had always had difficulty breathing if she wasn’t surrounded by moving air. This, too, was a reason that Daidí had kept her home for so long—her fae traits were hard to hide when she was younger.
She drew several deep breaths in preparation for her few moments in the small space and insisted, “I can do this. I need to be able to pass as . . . not me, Hector.”
Hector shook his head, but he didn’t argue. He knew that she had to work to blend in when she could. Silently, he put all three of the bags into the narrow car. Before he stepped back for her to get inside it, he said, “Mr. Abernathy doesn’t want you to worry, but there were threats at home. You’re safer here. Just . . . keep your accessories in reach and try to follow the rules, okay? He worries.”
“I’ve been practicing with my accessories for years. Remind him . . . that I’m careful, okay?”
If she needed help, she’d tell Daidí, but right now, all she needed was space. Hopefully, she could tell Zephyr she wasn’t interested in whatever madness he thought she’d be into joining, and that would be the end of it.
“Tell Daidí I’m going to be fine here. Tell him . . .” Lily paused when her voice shook, but she steadied herself and continued, “Tell him that he needs to stay safe too.”
“I’ll make sure of it,” Hector promised as he gestured for her to get into the lift car.
She paused, thinking about Abernathy Commandment #9. Be kind to those who deserve it.
Briefly, she hugged Hector and nodded good-bye to him.
He watched her until the car started to ascend. It was only two floors, but she had to count her breathing in and out to cope with the narrow space.
When the lift stopped on the second floor, Lily all but leaped out. She shoved one suitcase forward with a foot and pulled another behind her. Once those were out, she yanked the third one clear of the doors.
Daidí had often said that trying the things that frighten us was how we got stronger. He’d also talked about how her mother was the strongest, bravest women he’d ever met. Iana Abernathy was a hard ideal to live up to.
Lily had tried. She did things that frightened her, strove to be like her mother, but that didn’t stop her from having moments of weakness. Today, she was smack in the middle of a day-long “moment,” so proving that she could handle the lifts was critical. Those were the tasks that stood out, the ones that were accomplished under duress, and now, she’d succeeded. She’d handled the enclosed space with no panic attacks. Earlier, she’d managed a conversation with the obscenely beautiful Zephyr Waters. All told, despite the downsides of both events, they were still victories of a sort.
With a brief smile, Lily lashed two of the suitcases together and then pulled the double bags with one hand and pushed the solo bag with the other. By the time she’d crossed the airwalk and reached the East Tower, Lily was ready to abandon one of the bags.
Not a snowflake! she reminded herself. That was the point she had to prove to herself. She could be just like other people, not a fragile thing to be safeguarded from the world. Lily had to become stronger and braver, like her mother.
That resolve was enough to make her push on with her luggage.
By the time Lily found the door to her suite, her arms hurt, and she missed home. The suite was an end unit as promised, and Lily suspected that it would have everything else Daidí had requested—a good view, wide windows, and as much space as allowed. Aside from the suitemate that waited inside the suite, it would be exactly as perfect as possible at St. Columba’s.
Lily paused at the door.
Abernathy Commandment #5: Be bold.
Bracing herself for whatever nightmare waited in the suite, Lily opened the door and strode into the room.
“Forget to knock?”
The girl in the room glared. Much like earlier with Zephyr, Lily recognized her instantly. Alkamy Adams. Her father was some legendary, drugged-out guitar player, and she was amazingly talented on her own merit—at least that had been the public verdict after her one and only tour.
“It didn’t occur to me since it’s my suite.” Lily shoved the first of her bags through the door to their common room, using it to prop the door open as she pulled the other two inside.
“You must have made a mistake,” Alkamy started.
“Two sixteen.” Lily pointed to the room number on the door. “East Tower. My suite as of now.”
Lily realized that Alkamy was staring, but she’d been sized up by criminals since she was old enough to be around Daidí’s colleagues. The mini diva was easy in comparison.
“Which room is mine?” she prompted.
“I’ve already dislodged my latest suitemate,” Alkamy announced evenly. It was obviously intended to be a challenge.
“Congratulations. I guess that makes me your consolation prize.” Lily gestured at the three closed doors. “Room?”
Alkamy pointed to the door on the right. “There. That’s the second bedroom. You won’t last though.”
“Great. I’m Lily.”
“Abernathy?” Alkamy blinked. It wasn’t much of a reaction, but it was enough. Her new suitemate recognized her enough to fill in the surname Lily hadn’t offered. She wondered whether that recognition was via her on-again, off-again boyfriend or through the sensational criminal allegations against Lily’s father.
After nodding at her, Lily dragged her three bags into the room. Alkamy watched the whole time. Although Lily suspected that her new suitemate was trying to be intimidating, her whole routine was a lot less scary than she intended.
Alkamy was one of the host of girls who had been in the tabloids with Zephyr. Lily tried to remember if they were supposed to be an item currently. It would be just her luck to share a suite with the girlfriend of the boy who had just kissed her.
She started to hang her clothes in the closet, not bothering to look at Alkamy, who was leaning against the doorframe, arms folded, observing her.
“I’m Alkamy Adams,” she announced after several minutes.
“I know. I’ve seen you in magazines.” Lily withdrew a short blade that dangled in a holster and smiled. Shayla alternately sorted Lily’s weapons as clothing or jewelry, depending on how she classified any particular item. This blade was one of the more functional ones, resembling a small scimitar, so Shayla steadfastly insisted that it was “not jewelry.”
Behind Lily, Alkamy made herself at ho
me on the overstuffed chair in front of the window. “I don’t think I’ve seen you in any magazines.”
“That’s probably true.”
“So?” Alkamy prompted. “What’s your story?”
“I’m new here this year.”
“Obviously,” Alkamy said, dragging the word out into more syllables than necessary. She stretched her legs out in front of her. It made her robe gape open, and based on how much skin she’d just exposed, Lily was fairly certain she wasn’t wearing anything under the robe.
Lily arched her brow. “Are you aiming for intimidating or alluring?”
Abernathy Commandment #5: Be bold.
For several seconds, Alkamy stared at Lily incredulously, and then she laughed. For someone with the reputation of being a badass, she sounded like a little girl who’d been flying high on the park swings. When she stopped giggling, she said, “You’re unexpected, Lilywhite.”
“It’s just Lily.”
“Whatever.”
Lily hung several more of Shayla’s carefully labeled outfits in the closet and lined up a few boxes of accessories on the shelf above them. The pretty wooden chests mostly contained daggers, but two held guns, one revolver and one semiautomatic, and ammunition. Some girls collected jewelry, and odds were that Shayla had packed that too, but these were the only items Lily had packed for herself. Every box was fingerprint pass-coded, so no one but Lily could access the weapons.
Without turning away from her closet, Lily said in a level voice, “Since you used my whole name, I’m guessing you’ve heard it before.”
“I’d heard you were coming here, but I couldn’t find any pictures of you.”
“Daidí dislikes it when my image gets out.”
Alkamy snorted. “My old man loves it. ‘No press is bad press, Kamy Girl.’ The paparazzi has always been . . . just there, you know? So what’s your father’s secret?”
“Hard to say. Maybe he kills photographers.” Lily met her eyes, testing her reaction.
Alkamy smiled and then without missing a beat said, “Messy.”
Lily nodded. Then she met Alkamy’s gaze head-on and said, “I don’t use. No drugs, no alcohol, no cigarettes. Nothing.”
“Not a problem.” Alkamy flashed her an odd look, but she didn’t come right out and ask if Lily was fae-blood. She was more subtle than Creed and Zephyr. All she did was hint: “So no chemicals. Are you a nature girl then?”
“Eh. I like being outside.” Lily shrugged.
Abernathy Commandment #6: Never confess your vulnerabilities if you can avoid it.
“Finish hanging your stuff, and I’ll show you the grounds. St. Columba’s bites sometimes, but the gardens are excellent.” Alkamy hopped to her feet. “Oh, and since you’re ‘Just Lily,’ you should call me ‘Kamy.’”
Lily only wanted her solitude. “That’s not . . . I’ve already . . .” She looked at her new suitemate, who was watching her and grinning. There was no graceful way to refuse Alkamy. Maybe her confrontational suitemate could be a potential friend . . . or at least an ally of sorts. Unlike Creed and Zephyr, Alkamy, at least, seemed to be offering friendship without strings.
sixteen
ZEPHYR
The moon was still in the sky when Zephyr slipped out of his suite. It was not yet morning, although his suitemate was only recently asleep. Creed had crept into their suite somewhere around midnight after another excursion to the garden. In a few days, his moonbathing and sunbathing would restore him to health, and as long as he abstained from the bad habits he seemed to cherish on holidays, he’d be as strong as ever.
It was one thing to occasionally behave like humans to avoid accusations of fae-blood, but Creed took it too far. He cycled between self-destruction and purification repeatedly throughout the year. Something in his life drove him toward self-destruction over and over. The whole group saw it, but so far, no one had gotten anywhere when they’d asked him about it. He’d been worse the past few months than ever before. If they were the sort of friends who talked, Zephyr would try harder to find out what had set Creed into such a spin, but Creed was as likely to throw a punch as to walk away.
So far, Zephyr had been able to let them do as they wanted. That was all about to change. Now that Lilywhite was with them, they’d start receiving regular orders from the queen. Whatever the queen demanded, they’d do. That was why he needed to get his team in order. They would obey, or they would be “retired.”
But he was too far ahead of himself. First, he had to report to the Queen of Blood and Rage. There was a protocol that he’d been drilled on repeatedly. His handler, Clara, stressed the points at which he was required to visit the Hidden Lands. Lilywhite’s arrival was uppermost on that list.
Silently, Zephyr walked up to the back wall of the West Tower. The old buildings that made up St. Columba’s all retained a fairy-tale quality. The entire campus had once been a monastery, but time and traditions had changed and so the monastery was turned into a school for the wealthy.
From residents who took vows of poverty to those who lived lives of indulgence, the change was almost too great to ponder. Zephyr sometimes thought he would have preferred the former. He’d miss the comfort of money, but he wouldn’t miss the attention it drew. There was a feeling of history, energy perhaps, that lingered from the long-gone monks, as if they’d left behind some sense of purpose that filled those who lived here then and now. He needed that—or maybe it just felt that way to Zephyr. Like the monks, he had a purpose; he never needed to guess about what he was meant to do. The queen would tell him, and he would serve her wishes. He’d been born to do this. Literally.
He stroked a hand over the leaves that crept and twined together across the dimly lit wall. Most students had no idea that the thick vines covered a section of stone that accessed a network of tunnels. Unless one could ask the vines to part, there was no way to tell the passage existed and still keep it secret—since a human hacking through the growth would’ve been detected.
Zephyr willed the plants to separate for him, thanking them for their kindness and asking if they would hide his exit. With a welcome rustle the plants divided, exposing the hidden door to the mouth of the main passageway. Zephyr pushed the stone that would expose the latch, lifted it, and shoved.
The door scraped open and Zephyr quickly stepped into a dark tunnel.
The air smelled of dampness and age, and he wondered—not for the first time—what the monks had feared. Escape tunnels weren’t built by those without enemies. A fleeting thought of Lilywhite made him wonder if her homes had such hidden exits as well. When he’d first discovered his heritage, he wondered if that was why his parents had exit tunnels, but then Clara told him that he was a changeling and that his parents had no idea that he was fae. They, like the parents of all of the Sleepers, assumed that some latent fae DNA had surfaced in them. They protected him all the same.
After Zephyr pulled the door to the passages shut behind him, he flicked on the small light he carried in his pocket and followed one of the twisting routes to the other end. The tunnel curved and eventually this path came to narrow spiraling steps that descended two stories and dead-ended.
He’d figured out how to open it years ago, and he no longer had to look to find the stone that hid the giant key. He pried the stone out, retrieved the key, and opened the door. There were other passages. The one he typically followed led to the grounds outside campus. Tonight, however, although he was leaving campus, he was doing so via a route that was inaccessible to all but those who had the fae permission to enter the Hidden Lands—and the knowledge of tunnels at the very edge of the grounds of the campus, past the hedge maze, where only the Sleepers ever ventured.
Zephyr took his shoes off and set them on the floor at the end of the tunnel. Then, barefoot, he opened the door and closed it heavily behind him. The air tasted purer after the musty stone passageway.
He walked to the wall surrounding the private reflecting garden that was strictly off-limits even to
the most indulged students. Here the walls were covered with roses. Again, he asked the plants to permit his access. Instead of parting, they shifted into a ladder of thorns and blossoms.
“As you will,” Zephyr whispered to them.
He ascended the rose ladder, wincing as the thorns pierced his feet and hands. There was no use in trying to avoid grabbing the vine where the barbs jutted out. If he did, they shifted toward him.
Small cuts marked his palms and wrists. Tiny droplets of blood seeped from his feet as he walked, but the cuts weren’t deep enough to do more than sting. They were hardly worth noticing.
Inside the garden, he began to pace, seeking one of the circles of toadstools that appeared when he needed to access the other realm. He walked and waited, calling out to the soil, asking for a doorway.
Finally, in between one heartbeat and the next, it appeared in the dew-wet grass. He wasn’t sure how the circle worked. He didn’t state a destination, simply went where it sent him. Once, he’d appeared on the shore of an island, seals rolling in the surf. Another time, he’d been at the edge of a forest where flickering lights seemed to beckon him nearer.
Quickly, before it vanished, he stepped into the circle, exhaled, and stepped out in the Hidden Lands. Today, he was at the edge of an expanse of slick black rock that glistened like ice. He let the feel of it, the weight and the age of it, speak to him until he knew what it was. Obsidian. It was a rock sharp as glass, made for sacrifices, carved into blades by both fae and mortals alike.
As he walked across a surface of the sacrificial rock, the small cuts on his feet continued to leave a trail. He wasn’t sure where he was headed, only that these tests were inevitable. He faced a new one every time he came to the land of the fae. This time, no matter how long he walked, the path seemed no shorter.
Finally, Zephyr looked back, and when he did, he saw that his blood had hardened into dozens of sparkling gems. He wasn’t sure what to do with them, but he understood that this was part of the test too.