Page 56 of The Ordeals
I stare at Professor Grant as a short sputter of applause echoesaround the courtyard, mostly led by Lewellyn, who I realise is watching me. I join in, clapping for the others who made it and then make for Alden, determined to finish my questions. But by the time I reach where he was standing, he’s gone. I pivot on the spot, searching the crowd of hopefuls and lurking scholars, and find his back disappearing through the archway across the courtyard, heading towards Hope. Sidestepping through the crowd, I reach the granite-hewn steps that lead to Hope Hall, and see he’s already well ahead, disappearing into the mist at the far end of the island. Narrowing my eyes, I go after him as quickly as I can, determined to have this out with him.
When I reach his bedroom door, I don’t bother knocking. I barge it open, and he turns to me, shirt in a ball in the corner, as though he’s thrown it. He doesn’t even seem surprised to see me as he pinches the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes. ‘DeWinter, I can’t. Not now, I just can’t …’
I swallow, closing the door carefully behind me and lean against it. The muscles beneath his skin shift as he moves, reaching for his dresser, selecting a simple white T-shirt. Before he tugs it over his head, I drink in the view of his chest, his abs, taut with a fine line of hair running beneath the waistband of his trousers. My breath catches as he pulls on the T-shirt, and I imagine running my hands over his skin, feeling the ridges of his chest. Imagine him holding me in his arms.
‘I’m sorry,’ I say softly. ‘Your father, and what happened, I’m sorry, I’ve been relentless, I … I didn’t consider you.’
He nods once, blinking at the floor, and my heart squeezes as his eyes glisten. He looks so haunted, so beautiful and alone, and all I want to do is reach out to him, for him to know I’m here. To know I’m here forhim. I realise I got this all wrong. He isn’t doing this to keep things from me; he just didn’t want to fall apart. Hesighs, glancing up, eyes searching my face, lost, as though he is still in his own maze, as though he is still there, that night, and his father has gone into the Morlagh. ‘I should have disobeyed. I should have gone after him, I …’
I take one step, two, and without thinking, before I even realise I’m doing it, I pull him to me and hold him. His arms fall around me and my heart races, beating so hard and so fast as he grips me tighter. I can’t bear his sadness, I can’t bear how he seems so lost, and all I can do is hold him, be with him. He sighs, his shoulders dropping, as though he’s releasing a burden, as though for this singular moment, it’s gone.
His grip on me loosens, and his hands begin moving lower down my back, softly caressing me, before reaching my hips and pulling me tighter to him. When I look up at him, his eyes are dark and hungry, and then his mouth is devouring mine. His kiss is deep and desperate, and I lose myself in him, in our connection, in this moment. I can feel his need pressed against me, and my own want begins to pulse in response. I am instantly aching for more, more friction, more heat, but almost as quickly as the moment ignites, it cools, his kiss turning gentle before he pulls back, holding my gaze and running one hand softly along the curve of my jaw.
He swallows before speaking, steeling himself. ‘Sophia, the cold onesarevampires. They’re monsters, and I should have shredded that note from my father when I found it that night. Instead, I kept it, with the information it contained that I’m still trying to figure out. I should have gone into the woods and saved him, or-or died trying. He could be alive if I didn’t, if I hadn’t …’ He draws a shuddering breath. ‘So now you know.’
I nod slowly, not wanting to step away. Because I feel it, right now, in this moment, I feel the pain he locks away inside him, every day. It’s like he’s holding his heart out to me, the bloody mess of it,and maybe he expects me to walk away. Maybe others have walked away before. But there are threads between us now, the tentative kind, wrapping us together. Perhaps once I would have bolted from his vulnerable soul, I would have protected my own heart, I would have cut the threads that are beginning to bind us.
But I cannot.
Here, in this moment, I will not walk away from him.
‘Now I know,’ I say, making sure he hears me.Reallyhears me. ‘And I’m not going anywhere.’
He releases a charged breath and closes his eyes, leaning his forehead against mine. We stand like this, me and him, and I realise when it comes to Alden, not only can I not walk away, I don’t want to.
‘We need to talk about what you told me. About Fion having two magics,’ I say to Tessa the next morning as we’re walking the gardens. We both needed to get away from the rivalry, the report of our dwindling numbers at breakfast in Gantry and the nervous energy emanating from the other hopefuls. Not to mention Peterson, glowering at us, like we personally killed his axe-wielding best friend in the maze. There’s only thirty-four of us now, and at this rate, twenty of us may not even make it through to become scholars.
‘Fion’s easily the best from the school I went to. She’s younger than us, but she just flew through. Parents are the pushy type, you know? Her grandparents are Allowayan. Cast her parents out of the territory when their magic showed. I’ve heard she visits them sometimes though, has some special dispensation or something.’
‘But … two magics? She’s a botanist and an illusionist … How is that even possible?’ In every lecture I managed to attend at theSerpentine library, every piece of information I gleaned on wielding, it’s something I’ve never come across.
Tessa shrugs, her fingers straying from her pockets to brush the frosted tips of a succulent. A cold front blew in overnight, dusting Killmarth in glitter. Anywhere else it would be beautiful, but here … it reminds me of shattered glass.
‘It’s rare, but not impossible, and I only know this because grandmother tested me to see if I had more than one. Part of the training.’
‘Good old grandma …’
Tessa smiles. ‘Quite. Although she did say if a wielderdoeshave two magics, it’s usually alchemy and botany, or masquier and illusion. That she can wield both a tangible magic, botany, and the intangible, illusion, is indeed interesting.’
I’m beginning to realise I may be out of my depth at Killmarth. ‘But she can’t be all powerful in two types of wielding, surely …’
‘No, you’re right on that. Like I said before, she’ll have a lesser magic and a dominant one. Her lesser magic will deplete her quickly, and she won’t rely on it. But her dominant magic will feed her, make her less certain of when she’s teetering on the edge of burnout.’ Tessa’s eyes flit to mine, then back to the path.
The feel of molten magic, of it tingling through my veins, electric and bright andwonderful, flits across my mind. That was what I felt in the Ordeal, when I pressed my hand to Alden’s arm – a taste ofhisraw magic, the depths of his power.
‘Are there any other hopefuls you think are able to wield two forms of magic?’ I ask, biting my lip. ‘I guess the competition is stronger than I expected. How do you wield? Like, do you hold your breath, or … ?’
She scrunches her nose. ‘Practice and time? And I imagine myself as the person I’m becoming. Say with you …’ She stops, turning to me and a tiny frown line appears between her eyes.
Then between blinks, she shakes out her hair and she’s … me. Down to the boots and coat I’m wearing, the gloves, the thick jumper. I giggle, then point at her ears. She laughs, and it’s my voice, my laugh, but I can’t help cringing. ‘I sound likethat?’
She becomes herself again and grins. ‘No one likes the sound of their own voice.’
We carry on walking and I take her arm.
‘Look, how Fion was able to hide it this long, I don’t know. Don’t worry about the others. You’re halfway through and I’m the one who nearly fucked it up in the last Ordeal, not you.’
‘Hardly, you stepped on a lawn—’
