“How did she curse them?”
“The two Sisters who betrayed the Goddess were sent to live with the First Men, who were strengthened by the extra bone in their fists and emboldened. They sought to enslave these two Sisters and abused them in every way. But the loyal Daughter was greatly blessed by the Goddess and remained strong and free. So you see,” Professor Volya says, sitting back again on the hay bale, “from the beginnings of time, men have been untrustworthy and only interested in cruelty and domination.”
“But your own son,” I say, “he seems a decent sort...”
Her eyes take on a faraway look. “He is kind and good because we perform every ritual the Goddess requires. In return, She has taken pity on him and blessed him greatly.” She’s quiet for a moment, considering me as a nearby mare snuffles and pulls at some hay. “You should be going,” she says, getting up. “It would not be good for the Vu Trin to find you here.”
I get up and brush the hay off my tunic.
“Good luck with your Selkie, Elloren Gardner,” she says to me. “You have done a brave thing. May the Goddess help and protect you.”
* * *
Andras is standing next to a large Keltic workhorse, stroking its neck, speaking to it softly. He keeps his eyes on the horse as I approach.
“So,” he says, “did my mother tell you the story of my cursed fist?” The disdain in his voice is surprisingly sharp.
“She did.”
Andras makes a disgusted sound as he continues to stroke the horse’s neck. “It’s a powerful story,” he admits, a hard edge to his tone.
“I’d never heard it before.”
Andras shakes his head in bitter disapproval. “She never stops recruiting for her tribe, my mother. Shunned for more than eighteen years, and still she’s loyal to them. The ironic thing is, my mother’s a brilliant scientist.” He holds his hand up for my inspection. “She knows that I have exactly the same number of bones in my fist as she does in hers, and yet, she believes.”
Andras peers off into the distance, where his mother is astride a white Elfin mare, riding away from us, her tunic’s rune-marks streaking red trails in their wake. “If she’d had a daughter, instead of me, she’d be with them still.” He turns to me, his brow tight. “I ruined my mother’s life.” He reaches up and strokes the horse’s neck. “And so,” he continues, his face full of resignation, “I go with her every full moon to perform the rituals the Goddess requires. Every morning we leave offerings and pray to Her. We follow every last Amaz tradition to the letter of the law. All except one.”
“What would that be?” I ask hesitantly.
He turns to me, his hand still on the horse. “My mother refused to abandon me at birth because I’m male, as Amaz tradition dictates. And she’s spent every single day of her life trying to atone for it.” He shakes his head and lets out a deep sigh. “Do you know what else is ironic about all this?”
I hold his gaze, waiting.
“I’ve never once had the slightest urge to raise my fist against a woman, contrary to what the Amaz creation myth says about men. The only person I’ve ever wanted to seriously hurt is the University groundskeeper, but I’m sure I’m in complete agreement with my mother in that regard. She may wind up killing him before I get a chance to.”
“Actually,” I say, “I think Diana Ulrich is first in line.”
He looks surprised. “The Lupine girl?”
I nod. “We had to talk her out of ripping his head off earlier.”
Andras stares at me for a moment, then laughs. He has a nice smile, wide and open. “I think I would like this Diana Ulrich.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Safety
When I return to the North Tower, the sun newly set, I find Yvan waiting for me in the upstairs hallway.
He’s sitting on the stone bench, a sack propped next to him. He snaps to vivid attention when I enter and rises.
My steps halt as I catch sight of him, the breath momentarily hitching in my throat. Our eyes lock, and I stare at him, blinking. His larger-than-life presence fills the narrow hallway, the low ceiling making him seem taller than he already is.
“Dried cod,” he says, not taking his eyes off me as he lifts the sack a fraction and sets it back down on the bench. “For the Selkie.”
My eyes flit to the sack then back up to him. I clutch at the sides of my cloak and close the distance between us, feeling self-conscious and flustered. There’s a gentleness about him that’s unexpected, his green eyes intense, but newly open and unguarded.
“I met your lodging mate,” he tells me, his tone significant. “Diana Ulrich.” His brow rises in unspoken disbelief.
His voice is always deeper than I expect it to be, smooth and alluring.
I let out a deep breath and shrug. “Yes, well, Diana’s been living here for a while now.”
“You’re living with two Icarals and a Lupine,” he states as if I’m not already aware of this fact.
“And a Selkie,” I remind him, fully comprehending how surreal this is. And increasingly risky.
And now there’s a disconcertingly attractive Kelt in my hallway.
But even with a stolen Selkie sitting in my room, it’s impossible not to have my thoughts completely scattered by how disarmingly handsome Yvan is.
He blinks at me, clearly surprised, the color of his eyes deepened by the dim lamplight, warm gold flecking the bright green, his gaze full of sharp intelligence. He holds himself in a long, stiff column, so formal, as if reining his emotions tightly in.
I ignore my fluttering pulse and eye him with arch amusement. “I never imagined you of all people would be standing in this hallway, Yvan.”
His lip twitches up. “About as unexpected as having a Selkie here, I’m sure.”
I let out a short laugh. “Actually, it’s stranger having you here. By far.” I shoot him a pointed look.
He stares at me, his lips parting slightly as if in question then closing again. He takes a deep breath, then glances sidelong at my bedroom. His face tenses, and he steps back a fraction, clears his throat and averts his gaze from me, suddenly ill at ease.
I’m abruptly uncomfortable, too, both of us clearly aware of how inappropriate this is in both of our staid cultures—a single male, unchaperoned, here, so close to my bed. The two of us alone.
I’ve been in his bedroom, and that was pushing the limits of scandal, but it was always in the presence of one or both of my brothers. Except that one time, back when Yvan and I hated each other.
Yvan’s eyes catch on Wynter’s white bird tapestry, and his unease seems to drop away. He focuses in on it as if noticing for the first time that he’s surrounded by artwork.
“That’s beautiful.” He exhales, taking it in.
A flock of Watchers. Gliding above a summer field.
“Wynter made it,” I tell him. “It’s my favorite of all her work.”
He nods, still staring at the woven scene as if entranced.
His eyes occupied, my own gaze inadvertently slips over him, first tentatively then freely, surreptitiously drinking him in. His long, lean body. His exquisite profile. The long lines of his neck. His hair a tousled mess, grazing his neck in uneven spikes, curling around the back of his ear. I imagine it would be soft to the touch. Soft, where the rest of him is hard.
Except for his lips.
I wonder, suddenly, what it would be like to kiss him...to feel his full lips against mine.
Yvan’s head snaps up, color lighting his cheeks, his mouth open in surprise.
I look quickly away, heart thudding, flushed and mortified, scared that he can see clear into my mind and view these wildly improper thoughts.
He can’t read your mind, I insist to myself. Of course he can’t. But...how else to explain his reaction?
I glance back up at him, deeply embarrassed.
The color on his cheeks has deepened, and he’s now staring at me with an ardent intensity that sets me reeling even more.
He swallows audibly, his eyes riveted on mine. “I should...be going.”
I nod disjointedly, his green eyes playing havoc with my heartbeat.
He hands me the sack, his warm fingers brushing mine, and steps back, constrained and formal once again.
I grip the sack tight. “Good night, Yvan,” I force out, heat burning at my neck and cheeks. “Thank you for the food.”
We’re silent for a few tension-fraught heartbeats.
“Good night, Elloren.” His voice is low and warm as dark honey.
His eyes flit down my form in one languid line. Then his face grows uneasy and his head gives a small jerk up, his eyes gone a fraction wider like he’s startled himself. His gaze turns deeply conflicted.
He shoots me his familiar intense, fiery look and strides out.
* * *
My heartbeat is still erratic when I slip into my lodging, wildly flustered.
The fire is fully stoked, the room cast in a warm, comforting glow that instantly begins to soothe my troubled emotions.
Diana is lying on my bed, her arm around the sleeping Selkie. Ariel is lying on her own disastrous bed, her angry eyes hard on the Selkie as if she’s trying to mentally drive her away, and Wynter is kneeling in front of Ariel’s bed, talking to her in a low voice, her thin hand gentle on Ariel’s scarred arm.
Diana’s eyes, very much awake and alert, follow me as I take off my woolen cloak, hang it on a hook Jarod placed for us and sit down on the floor by my bed, resting my shoulder against the mattress. I realize we’re going to have to get more beds, with so many people now living here.
“How is she?” I notice how pained the Selkie’s expression is, even in sleep.
“She seems very tired, but not as scared,” Diana replies. “I think she’s beginning to realize that she is safe, and that I am dangerous and on her side.” Diana grins at me, her intimidating I am the daughter of an alpha grin that never fails to raise the hairs on the back of my neck.
“Yvan Guriel brought her some food.” I lift the bag. “Dried fish.”
Diana wrinkles her nose. “I knew that before you set foot in the room,” she says, affronted by my continual underestimation of her superior Lupine senses. “I smelled him out there,” she tells me, cocking her head and watching me closely. “Waiting for you.”
Her words hang in the air between us, my flush heating again.
Lupine senses. I realize she heard my entire conversation with Yvan and can sense our pointless attraction. Diana stares levelly back at me, remaining uncharacteristically and blessedly silent on the matter.
I’m quiet for a moment, Wynter’s murmuring to Ariel and the crackling of the fire the only sounds in the tranquil room.
I’m grateful that Diana refrains from commenting about me and Yvan, but I’m not able to remain silent when it comes to my brother.
“Diana,” I say hesitantly. “I...I saw you kissing my brother earlier, you know.”
Diana blinks at me, expressionless. “I wish to mate with him,” she finally says.
My worry spikes. “But you told me you wouldn’t because he’s not Lupine, so I’m a little confused on that point...”
“I would not mate with him at present,” she clarifies with a wave of her hand as if this should be obvious. “Only after he becomes Lupine.”
“My brother’s a Gardnerian, Diana,” I point out, growing even more worried.
“What is your point, exactly?”
“Gardnerians don’t become Lupine.”
“Oh, he will,” she says with complete confidence, “to mate with me.”
“Become Lupine?” My brother, a shapeshifter?
“Yes.”
I sigh in surrender and rest my head on the bed, facing Diana and the sleeping Selkie, a fierce melancholy overtaking me. Here she is—Rafe’s choice. What little family I have is beginning to fracture and fall away. Rafe will become a Lupine and leave us. And Trystan... Ancient One knows what will happen to him.
And me—I don’t fit in anywhere. Least of all with Yvan. A bitter pang of hurt and regret courses through me.
“How does someone become Lupine?” I ask, my voice low and sad, curious about how exactly Rafe will be taken away.
She hesitates before answering. “A bite to the base of the throat that draws blood, on the night of the full moon.”
“What will your father do?” I ask, worriedly. “When he finds out about Rafe?”
“My father will like Rafe a great deal,” she assures me. “I am sure of it.”
The two of us are silent for a moment as I fight back stinging tears.
“You know, Elloren Gardner,” Diana finally says, her voice kind, “when I take your brother to mate, we will become sisters.”
I turn my head to look at her, surprised.
“You will be part of my family, then,” she goes on, “whether you become Lupine or not.”
The loneliness, the fear, not being able to go home and be with my uncle, the loss of my quilt, the risks we’re taking, the intense conflict in Yvan’s eyes—all of a sudden, these things wash over me, and I close my eyes tightly, embarrassed to be openly crying into the blanket beneath me. I feel Diana’s hand on my head, which makes me cry even harder.
“It’s not natural, how you people live,” she says as she strokes my hair. “Cut off from each other, so alone. My family will like you very much, Elloren Gardner.”
“They won’t,” I counter, my nose stuffing up. “They’ll see who I look like, and they’ll hate me. Just like everyone else who’s not Gardnerian.”
“No, they will trust my opinion of you, and I like you, Elloren Gardner, even though you are so strange to me. What you did...freeing this Selkie girl, weak as you are. It was very brave.”
Her compliment catches me off guard. I inwardly straighten up at her praise, my embarrassment fading. Diana always seems to be merely suffering through the company of all us non-Lupines, so her good opinion seems all the more valuable and well earned.
“I don’t fit in anywhere,” I tell her.
“You will find a place with my pack,” Diana insists. “I am quite sure of it. I think you should spend next summer with us.”
My tears subside at the improbable thought of spending the summer with Diana.
What if she’s right? What if her people do accept me? Would I truly be gaining family when Diana and Rafe become a mated pair?
Diana and Jarod have mentioned their little sister, Kendra, on more than one occasion. Would she become part of my family, too? And Diana’s mother? Maybe she would become my friend.
A little bit of hope takes hold inside me.
Her hand on my head is so comforting, so kind. It’s so good to be touched, and I feel myself letting go of some of the stress roiling inside me.
“You didn’t hesitate to help me,” I tell her. “You didn’t hesitate to help the Selkie. Thank you.”
Diana nods slightly in acknowledgment.
“I’d be very happy,” I tell her, “to have you as a sister someday.”
I realize, with warm surprise, how deeply and genuinely I mean it.
Diana’s lips curve into a small, satisfied smile, and a few minutes later I let my eyes fall shut like the Selkie’s, the rhythm of Diana’s fingers soothing on my hair, a blessedly dreamless sleep quickly overtaking me.
* * *
“Elloren, wake up.”
Diana’s insistent voice pulls my eyes open the next morning. The strange expression on her face, her gaze focused on the door, drives out whatever sleepiness remains.
S
he’s off the bed and in a defensive crouch. Ariel and Wynter are gone. The Selkie is awake and backed up against the headboard of my bed, motionless except for her terrified ocean-gray eyes, which dart wildly around.
I push myself up and into a straighter position, my back stiff from sleeping all night propped up against the bed.
“What’s the matter?”
Diana’s finger flies up to her lips. “Someone’s coming. I don’t recognize their scent. Two people.” Diana cocks her head to one side, listening, her face grim. “They’re coming for her, Elloren. The groundskeeper. And someone else.”
“What will we do?” I breathe, my throat clenching with fear.
Diana falls farther into her protective crouch. Her eyes take on a scary glow as her lips pull back into a threatening snarl. “If they try to take her,” she says, showing all her teeth to the door, “I will kill them.”
I can hear three things. A terrifying growl starting at the base of Diana’s throat, the sound of footsteps in the hallway and my own heart slamming against my chest.
The door swings open, and Diana’s growl morphs into a full-blown death threat.
Standing in the doorway is a Vu Trin sorceress.
She’s young and dressed in uniform—black garb marked with glowing blue runes and silver weaponry strapped all over her body. I notice that she resembles Commander Kam Vin, their leader. She has the same dark eyes and hair, deep brown skin and similar facial features. But she’s also very different from Kam Vin.
She’s scarred. Horribly so. A good half of her face is covered in burn scars, the hair on one side of her head gone, covered partially by a long, black scarf. One ear is completely melted away, the scars extending down her neck and disappearing inside her clothing, only to reappear in the disfigured stump that must have, at one time, been a hand, but now looks as if all the fingers have melted together. It’s a strange effect—one side of her strong and lovely, the other mutilated.
Diana slowly raises one hand and rapidly morphs it into a clawed weapon.
The young sorceress narrows her eyes at Diana, amazingly serene in the face of such a formidable threat. “I am Ni Vin,” she announces formally, “younger sister to Commander Kam Vin. Under auspices of the Verpacian Guard, I have jurisdiction over this area of the University. And, I have a search warrant.”
The Black Witch Page 43
