Whatever I was expecting him to say, that wasn’t it. I thought maybe his family had attended the event, but three hundred and twenty-seven was the total number of casualties. “That was nine years ago. How old were you even? Nine? How were you supposed to save anyone?”
“I was eight,” he corrected. “The summit was my first official mission as a Keeper. The chancellor forbade me to come, but Antonio said he didn’t answer to him and brought me anyway.”
Eight? Just how long had Nate been a Keeper? “Who’s Antonio?”
“Keeper of the Unda Blade before Thor. He was my mentor.” He shook his head. “We were there, but we still couldn’t save those people.”
A pang shot through me. Although he’d only been eight years old, he still blamed himself for the destruction the bomb had wrought. It wasn’t sadness or anger that drove him out here—it was shame.
I wasn’t sure what to make of it. His sense of responsibility seemed extreme. What was an eight-year-old supposed to do in the face of that kind of destruction?
Logical or not, his guilt was real. And while I knew I should allow him to process his emotions however he needed, part of me couldn’t help pressing in deeper. “Aisha mentioned she lost her uncle. I’m sure a lot of good angels died that day.”
His brow furrowed as he met my eyes. “Three hundred and twenty-seven ethereals died that day. As a Blade Keeper, I was supposed to protect every single one.”
Everything about the statement hit me with the force of an oncoming train. It wasn’t just the words but the emotion behind them. He really believed what he was saying. I wondered how many of his contemporaries in the Guard would say the same thing when asked.
But belief was nothing if not backed up by action. It was easy to spout off ideals while tucked safe inside the gates of Blakethorne. But I’d seen him in West Cameron. When faced with one of the other ethereals he claimed to protect, he had been prepared to send her off to a fate worse than death over a few ration bars.
Before either of us could say more, the classroom door opened and cadets began spilling out. He shook himself, painting on a grin as he strode toward Clio, Bridger, and Thor as they stepped into the hallway, leaving me behind to wrestle my tumultuous thoughts.
Chapter Seventeen
The rest of the morning went by in a blur. By the time the Keepers led me back to the cafeteria for lunch, the familiar room filled me with relief. Even the whispers and furtive glances that followed me were becoming so common they barely registered. It wasn’t until I was halfway through an insanely delicious turkey and cheese sub sandwich that something Clio said pricked my ears. “What about a banquet?”
A small, empathetic smile curved her lips. “It’s not as awful as it sounds—right, guys?” She looked to Thor and Bridger to back her up, but their grimaces did little to reassure me. Sensing this, Clio waved her hand. “Oh, never mind them. We’ve all been through it. It’s mostly a formality to officially introduce you as a Blade Keeper.”
My heart rate climbed as I pieced together what she was saying. “There’s a banquet tonight… for me?”
Nate offered a wry smile. “How’s your small talk?”
I gaped at him. Small talk? What did angels even talk about? My saving grace so far was that, outside the Keepers, no cadet besides Maisie had tried to talk to me. It wasn’t as if I could discuss my life before arriving here or my hobbies and interests. I had a feeling bringing up a lack of basic medical care for demons wouldn’t go over so well with the academy crowd.
Clio smacked Nate’s upper arm with the back of her hand. “Don’t scare her.” She reached across the table, and though her fingers didn’t touch mine, I had the distinct impression she wanted to squeeze my hand. “The four of us will be there, too. It’s important to have a support system at these things. We’ll make sure you’re never alone.” She eyed each of the guys as she said the last part.
Thor snorted, giving a lazy salute. “Whatever you say, boss.”
She curled her lip but didn’t respond before turning her attention back to me. “It’ll be fine.”
But I couldn’t shake the feeling that things would be the exact opposite of fine.
By the time I made it back to my room after my last class of the day, I was exhausted. Not just physically—although the last training session of the day had left my muscles aching. The mental stress of being surrounded by angels—all of whom seemed to watch my every move—was taking its toll.
When we parted ways at the dorm’s second floor, Clio informed me that my outfit for tonight’s banquet would be waiting outside my door. Sure enough, there was a garment bag hanging from a hook on the ceiling. Despite myself, a current of excitement zipped down my spine as I removed it and made my way inside my room. But disappointment soon overshadowed everything when I opened the bag to reveal yet another uniform.
Even though I’d just changed at the training gym after my shower, I traded it out for the new one. Maybe it differed slightly from the one I had on. A dress uniform.
I choked back a laugh. This entire thing was ridiculous. Why were they holding a banquet? Surely everyone at the school had glimpsed me at some point today. Couldn’t these angels put two and two together and figure out I was the new Keeper?
Allegedly.
At five forty-five, a knock sounded at my door. “Eden?” called Clio’s muffled voice. “Are you ready?”
I gave my reflection one last look. My hair was still damp, and this uniform was indistinguishable from the others I’d worn today. But if this is how they wanted me to look, so be it.
Clio knocked again. “Eden? Are you in there?”
Sighing, I crossed the room and pulled open the door. And gasped.
Clio was almost entirely unrecognizable. Her reddish-blonde hair hung in loose curls around her face. Coral shadow added a pop of color to her eyelids, and her lashes were darker and longer than they had been the last time I saw her. Instead of a uniform, she wore a peachy-pink dress with a billowing skirt and lace details that filled the bodice before trailing like vines down toward the floor.
Her eyes widened as they landed on me. “Why aren’t you ready?” Before I could answer, she pushed past me into my room, scanning the vicinity as if expecting to see something. “Is this like a statement or something? Because, I’m with you—I’m a warrior, not a socialite. But, like it or not, these people have some pretty specific expectations. And tonight is not the night to buck them.” After squinting into my empty closet, she turned back to me, her hands planted on her hips. “Where’s your dress?”
“What dress?” I spread my arms wide to encompass the whole empty room. “I don’t have a dress. You said to put on what I found in the hall.” I gestured to the empty garment bag on my bed. “This was in the hall.”
She squinted at the closet again as if expecting something to materialize within. “This is nuts. This whole banquet is to honor you and they forgot your gown?” Sighing with frustration, she stalked toward the door. “Come on.”
Not sure what else to do, I obeyed.
Clio led the way down the hall. As expected, our presence drew the eyes of all the girls walking to or from the communal bathroom as they were getting ready. Sure enough, every one of them was in a dress—although nothing so fancy as what Clio wore.
She gathered up her skirt as she descended the stairs to the second floor, and her pace didn’t slow until she stopped outside the door of the room directly below my own. She twisted the handle and flounced inside, calling, “Shut the door behind you.”
Although her room’s layout was a carbon copy of my own, the differences between the two were immediately apparent. While mine was void of any possessions, Clio’s room was a riot of color. Bright paper flowers filled a glass vase on her dresser. Instead of a standard-issue gray academy blanket, a patchwork quilt covered her bed. Glittering sun catchers hung in the window.
“Can you help me with the zipper?” Clio asked, trying—and failing—to grasp the metal pull t
ab on her back.
I didn’t move. “Why?”
She turned to face me, her brow knit. “You need a dress.”
The extent of her plan washed over me. “You can’t give me your dress. What are you going to wear?” A possibility occurred to me—one that displeased me more than I expected. “You’re not going to skip the banquet, are you?”
She chuckled. “Yeah, right. Like that’s an option. Come on—we don’t have much time.”
The urgency in her tone pressed me to action, and I quickly unzipped her dress. She held it up with her hands as she waddled toward her closet.
“I think we’re about the same size. I’m a little taller, but that shouldn’t be a problem. You can wear this, and I’ll wear one from another event.”
“Why don’t you just give me one of your old dresses instead of changing yours?” I asked as she began picking through a series of black garment bags hung along one side of her closet.
“Because all eyes will be on you tonight,” she said, glancing over her shoulder. “There will be photographers snapping a billion pictures. Tomorrow, your picture will be all over the tabloids. Trust me when I say those tabloid reporters will not be kind if you’re wearing something from last season.” She unzipped two of the bags before sealing one back up and pulling the other from the rod. “I’ll go with this.”
I tried to come up with a logical reason for her not to give me the literal clothes off her back, but my sluggish brain was no match for her swiftness as she slipped out of the dress she wore and into a pale green gown with tiny pink roses embroidered on the bust and around the waist.
Once I had zipped her new dress, she hurried me into the one she had been wearing. It was a little long and a little tight around the middle, but I could walk and I breathe, so I counted it as a win. With deft fingers, twisted sections of my hair and pinned them into place before hitting the damp tresses with a hair dryer. She spritzed a fine mist of hair spray over the twists before unpinning them and bidding me to shake my head a few times.
Before I knew what was happening, she pulled an oval-shaped teal box out of one of her drawers and nudged me backward until I sat on her bed. Without asking for my input, she applied makeup to my face, occasionally offering a direction about closing my eyes or opening my mouth.
After a few minutes of flurried activity, she pulled me to the full-length mirror hung on her door. “If I had time, I’d curl your hair properly, but I suppose this’ll have to do.”
I barely recognized the girl reflected in the mirror. The pink fabric of the dress made my skin seem to glow, and the makeup Clio applied made me look older than my seventeen years. Even my usually pin-straight hair looked foreign as it spiraled around my face.
Clio bit her lower lip. “Do you like it?”
My throat tightened, and I feared my voice might break if I tried to use it, so I simply nodded.
She released a sigh. “Good. Now we’d better get moving or we’ll be more than fashionably late.” She pulled open the door and crossed the threshold, but I didn’t follow her. When she realized I hadn’t moved, her brow knit. “What’s wrong? Oh! Shoes! What size are you?” She crouched and lifted up the hem of my dress to get a better look at my boots.
I took a step back. “Why are you doing this?”
Her face scrunched. “If we’re the same size, you can borrow some heels. They’ll help with the dress being so long.”
“Why are you being so nice?” I blurted.
Clio’s expression softened as she rose to her full height. “I remember what it was like being new around here. I was the first non-Warrior angel to attend the academy. It felt like everyone was waiting for me to make a mistake and prove I wasn’t supposed to be here and the Ignis Blade had chosen wrong.”
Like the Aether Blade had done with me? My stomach lurched. What happened when someone pushed me to prove I was really the Blade’s chosen Keeper?
Clio squeezed my upper arm reassuringly. “I just want to help make sure you put your best foot forward. Which—” She nodded toward my feet. “—unfortunately looks like it’ll be in your training boots. I can tell by looking your feet are bigger than mine.” She pulled up her own skirt to display her dainty, ballet-slipper-clad feet. “But the dress is long, so hopefully no one will notice. Now we really do have to get going.”
I studied her face. Could I really trust this girl? I barely knew her, yet she was willing to help me out of a potentially mortifying social faux pas. Maybe her interest lay in not having the newest member of her team embarrass her in front of the cameras. Or maybe she had been honest when she said she wanted to help me fit in.
Either way, if I hoped to keep up my end of this charade, I needed to get to the party. “Lead the way.”
We whisked past only a handful of stragglers on our way to the Kalmin Hall. Nate, Thor, and Bridger stood on the front steps, each sporting tailored suits in varying shades of gray. Nate released an exasperated sigh when he spotted us.
“You’re late,” he stage-whispered, making his way down to us.
“Couldn’t help it,” Clio said, hiking her skirt slightly as she began ascending the stairs. “We should get in there.”
Thor narrowed his eyes as she drew nearer. “You wore that at the Bladesgiving festival two years ago.”
Bridger chuckled. “Of course she didn’t…” He tipped his head as he studied Clio’s dress. “Stars and spears, she did. Good catch, Thor.”
“We can talk about it inside.” Clio turned and beckoned me to follow her. “Let’s go.”
With her nearing the front door, Nate turned his full attention to me. Although I was standing still, the world seemed to tilt when I locked my gaze on his impossibly deep brown eyes. My skin tingled as warmth blossomed to combat the autumnal chill of the air. My fingers twitched, and I fought the urge to flatten the slight wrinkle in his lapel.
What was going on with me? With considerable effort, I broke eye contact and started up the stairs after the others.
Nate kept pace. “If anyone asks why you were late, tell them—are those your boots?”
I didn’t bother slowing down as I mounted the steps to catch up with Clio. “Yep.”
He sighed his head as he followed. “I’m not sure what dress codes are like where you come from, but around here—”
The front door swung open, and the rest of Nate’s sentence died in his throat when a man in his late twenties stepped outside. “There you are,” he said dramatically, as if he’d just scoured every corner of the kis for our group. “The presentation begins in five minutes. You all need to get into position.”
I could feel the man’s disapproving gaze as I followed Clio, Thor, and Bridger into the building.
“One would think you would have better control over your team’s actions, cadet,” the guy muttered as Nate passed by.
As soon as we were out of ear shot, I leaned toward Clio. “So, that guy’s a jerk. Am I reading that right?”
Clio chuckled, but she didn’t respond. As we entered the building’s foyer, I realized I probably wouldn’t have caught what she said anyway. The building opened up into vaulted ceilings curving in graceful arcs overhead. The entire space echoed with murmurs of overlapping conversation streaming from the doors on the far side of the foyer. Everything at Blakethorne had been nicer than I expected, but this building was more lovely and intricate than anything I’ve ever seen in real life. Intricate gilt artwork was painted directly onto the walls. It was so overwhelming it should be gaudy, but somehow it all worked together to make something beautiful.
Instead of walking toward the doors straight ahead of us, Thor led the way down a hall to a small, but no less beautiful, room. Headmaster Kemp stood within, wearing a floor-length black dress that shimmered when she moved. She sighed with relief when her eyes landed on me. But her relaxed expression lasted only a moment as she took in the rest of my appearance. Her gaze flitted to Clio, and she tilted her head in confusion. “What…?”
&nb
sp; Clio held up her hand. “I’ll explain later, headmaster. Is it time?”
Kemp nodded, although the line furrowed between her eyebrows didn’t evaporate. “Nearly. The chancellor’s speech is almost over.”
My muscles tensed. The chancellor was here? I hadn’t expected that. “Isn’t it kind of overkill to bring in the chancellor just to introduce me to the academy?”
Bridger wrinkled his nose. “The academy? I mean, the upperclassmen are here, sure—but tonight isn’t about them. It’s to introduce you to the senate, probably some colonels, and whatever generals aren’t on active commissions.”
My throat went dry. Senators? Generals? I couldn’t go out there. One of them would realize who I really was. What I really was.
A soft, firm hand squeezed my shoulder. “You’ll be fine,” Clio said gently. “We’re all here with you.”
Although her words were kind, I couldn’t take solace in them. I knew they would turn against me as soon as they learned there was a demon in their midst.
A man with bulging muscles apparent through the fabric of his suit coat entered through a door opposite the one we’d come through. Wordlessly, he nodded, and Headmaster Kemp began herding us toward him.
“Good luck,” she murmured.
I bit back a laugh. Luck? I was bound to need more than that before the night was over.
Chapter Eighteen
My heart pounded in my chest as I made my way through the narrow passage beyond the door. Brass sconces fitted with light bulbs that flickered like candles lit the dark bronze walls at intervals. Nate led the way, followed by Bridger, Thor, and Clio. I wanted desperately to turn and run, but the silent giant who had summoned us kept pace behind me. In such tight quarters, I had no chance of getting past him. So onward I marched, hoping it wasn’t to my doom.
I could hear a muffled voice as we strode forward, the cadence suggesting its owner was giving a soaring speech. As we drew nearer to the heavy, carved wooden door at the end of the corridor, the voice became clearer, and I recognized the speaker before I could make out the words.
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