by Laura Tree
Chapter 17
After a shower at the gym, I’m back in my room. My muscles are starting to ache, so I decide to take a bubble bath and read one of the many books that I checked out from the library this afternoon to soothe the pain and relax. Is there a better way to spend a rainy afternoon?
I saunter into our joint bathroom, and surprise lights my face. I realize that yesterday, I was too nervous and this morning when I entered, I was so groggy that I barely had a chance to look around.
It’s not as bleak as our bedrooms, but it still isn’t as fancy as the rest of The Isle. It’s actually nice.
The sparkling white tile on the floor gives way to a two--headed shower on the right, and a toilet past that. On the left is a garden tub perfect for a long soak, and a dual sink setup with a framed mirror. An elongated window hangs over the tub. It’s perfect.
I turn on the water to boiling hot and gather my items. Thankfully Queen Merona had the foresight to request some bubble bath be sent along with my suitcases. I will have to thank her for everything.
I can feel my muscles relaxing as I sink into the bath. After about ten minutes of soaking, I decide to pick up a book and begin reading.
As I’m finishing up, my stomach starts to growl. I check the clock to see that it’s already time for dinner.
After washing out the tub, I head back to my room to get dressed. I figure I had better get some food in me before I turn into a grouch.
...
I catch my thoughts drifting to Damien while I’m dressing. I’m thinking back on our lunch encounter when it dawns on me that he didn’t eat lunch. He must be starving. I should see if he wants to go eat dinner with me.
I’m getting ready to head to the Damien’s room when there’s a knock at my door. When I open it, I’m surprised to see the perky blonde from my test.
“The Dean requests your company for dinner,” she says, turning to walk away as if this was a regular occurrence. I decide that I should probably follow her without asking questions. I will catch up with Damien later.
I follow her down several halls until she comes to a stop in front of a set of double oak doors. They have elegant carvings on them.
They are the same tribal symbols that I saw on Queen Merona’s castle, but they’re white, not gray. They feel alive. I peer closer and see one of them move.
“Dean Worthen is expecting you,” she says, turning to leave.
I grab the handle, and pulsing warmth shoots up my arm. Thinking it must be a protection spell, I pull the door open and step through.
The room is larger than it looked to be from the double doors. It opens up to fit a nice antique wooden table, large enough to feed ten people. There’s a feast laid on it. The Dean is sitting at the head of the table, facing the door.
On the left hand side there’s a gathering area, complete with couches, end tables, and a fireplace.
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Layla,” Dean Worthen states. He looks like Santa Claus in purple robes. He has a stocky build with a full white beard and a full head of short white hair. He’s dressed in a business suit and smoking a pipe. The scent of tobacco is barely noticeable over the aroma of a gourmet meal.
“The pleasure is all mine,” I say, curtsying.
“Please join me for a meal,” he says. As I pull out a chair close to his, he stands.
“The other guests should arrive shortly,” he says. What other guests? There has to be a reason for this gathering disguised as a simple meal. How can I discover his ulterior motives?
“Please, would you care for a drink? Perhaps a nice glass of Merlot would suit you.”
Merlot, as in wine? Does he know that I am not old enough to drink?
A knock sounds at the door and in strolls Damien.
Is something wrong? He questions upon studying my face.
Why are you here? I want to know. What’s going on? Why did the Dean just offer me, a minor, a glass of wine?
Calm down, Lay, Damien thinks. It’s just a friendly getting—to--know--you dinner. They did it for me when I was enrolled here. I’m just here for support. As for the wine, it’s not considered taboo to drink at a young age in this Realm because alcohol doesn’t affect the magical creatures the same way it does mortal ones.
“Welcome, Damien.” The Dean says. “It’s truly a pleasure to have you back, if only for a short period. Please choose a seat.”
Damien picks the seat beside me and reaches for my hand under the table. I assumed it’s to establish a stronger mental connection as much as it is for support.
“I was just offering Layla a drink. Would you care for something?” the Dean offers.
“Scotch on the rocks, and Layla will have a glass of Pinot Noir, please,” he says. It should infuriate me that Damien has placed an order for me; instead I feel relieved.
I’m not accustomed to placing a drink order, and surely could not have pulled it off with the level of finesse that the Dean expects.
A waiter shows up with our drinks, placing the glass next to my water glass on the table. I can’t help but admire the presentation of the food.
It looks like the food you would get from a five--star restaurant back home, and the scent is making me salivate.
I grew up middle class, so I didn’t get the opportunity to eat food that was served with such care toward presentation. It looks too good to touch.
The knock on the door pulls me back to the present, and, one by one, all of my professors filter in.
With a clink of a glass, the conversation comes to a halt.
“Welcome everyone,” the Dean begins. “I have called this meeting to make sure that everyone was well informed as to why Miss Sanders has joined the ranks of The Isle. After careful consideration, I have decided to make you aware of her special circumstances.”
My face starts to burn again with the telltale signs of a blush creeping up my cheeks. Why does he have to introduce me as having “special circumstances”? I would feel much more comfortable with being lost in the shadows.
Damien gives my hand a quick squeeze. This is for your protection, Layla. I asked that your professors be made aware, so that if trouble aroused and I wasn’t close enough, that they could look out for you.
I feel my blush deepen. Damien did this for me. I should have known. He seems to constantly be thinking about how he can protect me.
“Layla has been entrusted to The Isle by the Council.” The Dean continues, oblivious to our internal conversation. “She is the Suppliant from the prophecy.” At this statement, gasps ring out across the room. The table suddenly erupts with questions and murmurs.
I catch some of the words rolling around, although everyone is speaking at once. “How can she be the Suppliant from the prophecy?” “Is he sure?” “Why is she here?” “How are we supposed to help her?”
“One at a time.” Dean Worthen is still standing as the murmurs die off at his insistence.
“She is here to be trained,” he answers. “She is currently unknowledgeable, and our duty is to remedy that. She is the Suppliant from the prophecy. She has claimed Silver and has a deep connection to all Protectors.” The professors accept this as fact. Of course, Damien has already explained Silver to me, but he left out the part about other Protectors.
What other Protectors? I thought you were my Protector? I question.
Surely you didn’t think I was the only one, Lay, he thinks. I am the best, but there are others out there. They aren’t as rare as Suppliants.
I feel a little bulge of annoyance. It must have been really beneficial for Damien to leave this fact out. How does he know that I won’t have a deeper connection with one of the other Protectors? What makes him think he is the best one for me?
I feel like he is treating me like my parents do. Why can’t people just tell me what’s going on and let me make my own decisions?
I push my feelings down as the Dean continues. “Damien has brought her to us for training
. She will need extra attention. She needs to master her skills faster than the other students and will need to be pushed further. She is our last hope at getting the Azure Pendant back,” he says.
The murmurs are back for a few moments. The professors come to the conclusion that they will help me as much as they can. As the last of the professors accepts this, silence falls on the table.
With a smile, Dean Worthen holds up his glass. “Let’s eat!”
