The Complete Chosen Trilogy (The Chosen #0)

by N. M. Santoski

  “Oh, yes! Sure!” He offered her a hand up and she accepted, bounding to her feet with a light step. She took him down the steps, keeping up a light stream of chatter the whole way. She glanced at his bag only once, confirming to herself that the velvet bundle was gone. They reached the room in short order and she left him standing in front of his door, promising to meet him later at dinner.

  Nolan entered his room and was surprised to see no sign of his roommate. The boy’s belongings were already scattered throughout the room, but the teen himself was nowhere in sight.

  “Hello?” he called out, inching his way through the door.

  “Can I help you?” A tousled head appeared from the lower bunk bed, staring at Nolan in confusion.

  “I'm your roommate, I guess,” he said, incredibly uncomfortable. He wished for a moment that Gia had stayed, if only to confirm his right to be there.

  “Roommate? I was told that I was rooming alone, since there were an odd number of guys.”

  “I'm a late-comer. Proctor Jenkins sent me.” He stuck his hand out. “Nolan Aeron.”

  Angus eyed his hand, but did not take it. “Really. Where were you yesterday?”

  “Running late,” he said, keeping his face emotionless.

  Angus made a noise in the back of his throat. “Must be nice. So—where’s all your stuff?”

  Nolan hoisted the duffle bag into his line of sight. “This is it.”

  “I see. Well, make yourself at home, I guess. I bunked the beds to make more room... hope top bunk is okay.”

  His tone made it clear that Angus actually couldn't care less what Nolan's preferences were, but Nolan wasn't about to rise to that bait so quickly. “Of course, not a problem at all.”

  Nolan spent the afternoon arranging his few things and setting up his desk. He found a set of used reference books already waiting in the desk drawers and flipped through them, lying on his bunk and ignoring Angus. He stayed out of pure perversity, knowing that his roommate wanted him to leave. If he let Angus chase him out now, he'd have no chance of establishing his right to stay. Nevertheless, he was glad that he'd left the Sword with his uncle. These quarters were a little too close for privacy.

  As the sun began to slant down toward evening, a large gong sounded somewhere in the hallway.

  “What was that?” Nolan asked, startled.

  Angus shot him a disgusted look. “That's how the Proctor lets us know that he wants to see us all in the dining hall.” He left the room and began to stride down the hallway. After a moment of indecision, Nolan hurried to keep up. They went through a maze of hallways and once, Nolan was certain, an underground tunnel. They emerged in a brightly lit room shaped like a hollow square. Nolan realized that they had somehow managed to reach the top floor of the building. Three of the four outer walls were made completely of glass, affording a breathtaking view of the grounds and the woods surrounding Caer Anglia. The center of the room was walled off into an inner courtyard, with hinged windows running up to the ceiling.

  The walls of this inner court were solid stone, straight down into the basement where what appeared to be a court for dueling was waiting. The walls were seared with the marks of messy battles, but the dirt floor was freshly pressed.

  Some of the tables were situated alongside the railing, allowing students to watch sparring sessions from relative safety as they watched or ate.

  The dueling room was open to the elements, which at this moment meant plenty of late afternoon sunshine. Nolan squinted, trying to see through the glare in order to determine if anyone was down there already, but it seemed empty.

  Across the enclosure, he saw Gia waving, obviously trying to get his attention. Just as he raised his hand in acknowledgment, the girls sitting with her turned to see whom she was hailing. He could tell the moment they discovered him—one turned red, the other white, and both looked away quickly. Gia frowned at them both and continued to wave. Nolan gave her a nod and saw Angus give him a look.

  “You and Gia know each other?” He asked, aiming for a casual tone and failing miserably.

  “She's the one that took me to... Proctor Jenkins. She saw me come in.”

  Angus nodded towards the food lines.

  “Grab something to eat and we'll join them.”

  “Hi, boys,” Gia said brightly, ignoring Noel's glare. “Settling in okay?”

  “Just peachy,” Angus sighed, sliding into the seat next to Gia, leaving the end across from her for Nolan. “Nolan, you know Gia already. The lovely lady next to you is Claire Connor, and the one across from her is Noel Dix.”

  A pale Claire shook his hand, while Noel merely made a vague noise in his direction.

  “Do you know why Proctor Jenkins called a meeting?” Claire asked them. “We aren't sure.”

  “Looks like we're about to find out,” Nolan said, nodding toward the far wall. Proctor Jenkins was standing against the glass, motioning for attention and silence.

  “Students, if I may have your attention please?”

  The whispering students quieted in moments, gazing up at him with frank curiosity.

  “I hate to interrupt your meal, but I would like to take the time to officially welcome you all to your teach year!”

  A wave of excited applause rolled out of the crowd that took quite a few minutes for Jenkins to stifle.

  “Yes, yes, we're very excited to be here. A few rules before we get started...”

  Someone booed from the corner.

  “Sorry,” he smiled, “That's the way it is. Rule number one, and the most important: anyone caught using his or her numina in any room of Caer Anglia will be punished. Upon your second offense, you’ll be placed in the holding cells and not be cleared to return until the council reconvenes in June.”

  Protest broke out among the students and somehow Jenkins managed to catch the one legitimate concern amid the babble.

  “Yes, yes, you will be allowed to practice—I’m sorry, I worded that poorly. You will of course be permitted to use your numina while with the instructors or in the Arena—NO other exceptions will be made. I know many of you come with preconceived prejudices—you will leave them at the door. Do I make myself clear?”

  The muttering was muted enough to count as assent and he took it as such.

  “Secondly, the student wing on the first floor is the only one available to you. The second and third floors are inaccessible, and shall remain as such until June. Your assigned roommates will remain your roommates.” For a moment, his grip tightened on the edges of the podium before he spoke, his voice a barely controlled snarl. “Every year I give this speech, asking you students to put aside your differences and become, if not friends, allies. Every year, a few uneasy alliances form and the rest spend the year plotting to kill one another. I lost a dear friend during my own teach-year to this same nonsense. Hear me now- it will NOT be tolerated this year. I will send any transgressors to the basement cells so fast that your heads will spin. Do I make myself clear?” The water in every glass in the room trembled briefly. The students watched him in silence, too frightened to speak.

  After a moment, he released his grip on the podium, and the water glasses stopped shaking.

  “Good. Lastly, I’m sure it hasn’t escaped anyone’s attention that the baileys are once again active. I ask you all to be careful—they are not forgiving to those who would attempt to cross them. For those of you who have not yet investigated the desks in your rooms, you will find your schedules and books there when you return, as well as a more comprehensive set of rules we expect to be obeyed. Dinner will close promptly at seven. Enjoy your meal—I will see you tomorrow for your first class.” Jenkins left the podium and normal conversation resumed.

  “Nolan Aeron!”

  He turned around in his seat only to come face to face with one of the most startlingly beautiful women that he had ever seen. Judged individually, her features may have seemed unfortunate—her nose too long, her skin too pale, and her hair an odd teal color that w
as beginning to go black at the roots. Together, she was somehow more than her parts.

  “You look just like your brother, I'd know you anywhere. I am Leiani K'Oliu, Lady Younger Aqua, I'm so pleased you decided to join us this year!” She held her hand out, but not to be shaken. She held her fingers out, waiting. He took her limp hand gingerly and squeezed her fingers in his own before letting go.

  She frowned, but continued, “I look forward to having classes with you, Nolan. Your mother has been like a second mother to me, and your brother and I are quite close.”

  Nolan's jaw tightened, but only said, “Sounds good,” in an even tone. Leiani seemed to realize that she had upset him somehow, for she hastily withdrew.

  The moment that she was gone, Gia began to laugh.

  “Gia!” Claire hissed, “It's not funny!”

  “She wanted you to kiss her hand! Like you're her servant!” She burst into giggles again, only stopping when Claire brought her heel down on her toes—hard.

  “OW!” Gia glared at her, then had the grace to look ashamed when she saw Nolan's expression.

  “I'm sorry, Nolan—that was rude of me. Leiani and I…well, we've never gotten along.”

  “It's okay.” Desperate for a change of subject, he stood abruptly. “I'm going to go look at my schedule.” With a nod to each of them, he left the room.

  “I think you broke my toe!” Gia said.

  “See what you did?” Claire exclaimed. “You embarrassed him!”

  “Good!” Noel burst out, speaking her first coherent word since Nolan had joined them. “He was raised by a filicide—the gods only know what kind of things he was taught…”

  “First of all,” Gia rejoined, “You don't even know if John Aeron actually KILLED his son.”

  “EVERYONE KNOWS-”

  “FURTHERMORE,” she roared over Noel's furious interjection. “Even if he did, that's no reason to shun Nolan. He didn't do anything wrong.”

  “Not yet. It's only a matter of time. Better not piss him off, Angus, he knows where you sleep.”

  Angus swallowed the last of his soda and tipped the glass onto his tray.

  “I'm not afraid of him,” he said with a frown. “I could take him any day of the week. I don't really want to room with him, though. He'll be in the room all the time, just lurking.”

  That may have been true, if Nolan knew how to get back to the room. At the moment, however, Nolan was... lost. Definitely lost.

  “Dammit.”

  He thought he had remembered the route they had taken from their rooms, but somehow had ended up down in the basement, wandering among pile of old, discarded junk. Here, a pile of broken weapons, irreparable. There was a whole wall filled with nothing but destroyed furniture, and a corner of mismatched shoes, of all things.

  “Pathetic, isn't it?” a voice asked from the shadows, startling Nolan so badly he threw his hands up in defense, glowing brightly with numina.

  “Pax!” the figure said hurriedly, stepping forward with his hands up in surrender.

  From his grandfather's descriptions, this had to be a member of the Ignis ruling family. His hair was stop sign red, teased upward in a way that gave the illusion of flame. His skin was deathly pale and his eyes the lightest grey Nolan had ever seen, as if the hair had drawn all the color in his body upwards.

  “I'm sorry I startled you,” he continued, hands still raised. “But if you don't discharge soon, I'll have to do it for you.”

  Nolan hesitated, and then frowned in concentration as he rolled his fingers against his palms. Slowly, the balls of plasma he had summoned were absorbed back in to his body. The Ignis scion was slowly moving forward, curious as to what Nolan was doing. When he reached an appropriate distance, he stopped and extended his hand.

  “Pyrrhus, Lord Younger Ignis.”

  Nolan extinguished the final crackling of Power and accepted the handshake, feeling the unnaturally warm temperature of Pyrrhus' hand.

  “Nolan Aeron,” he said, deliberately omitting his title. In all reality, he was Lord Fulmen and the Swordsmith, but to tip his hand too early could cost him his life in this crowd.

  Pyrrhus' eyebrow rose ever so slightly, but he let it pass. “I know. Are you lost?”

  “Is it that obvious?”

  “I'm usually one of the only people to ever come here, so let's just call it a good guess.” He walked to the end of the hallway and pushed open the door. “Come on, I'll show you back upstairs.”

  As they climbed higher, Pyrrhus studied Nolan's profile in the half-light. He prided himself on his ability to judge at a glance, and his intuition told him that this wasn't a man to be taken lightly. Not the cold-blooded murderer they'd feared, but certainly powerful. He'd swallowed his numina without so much as a second thought, a feat his grandfather had been rumoured to have achieved only a handful of times in his life. He was one to watch.

  Would he play by the rules? Pyrrhus hoped not. It would be much more entertaining to see events play out, and an Aeron who played by the rules would be dead by the end of the year.

  Realizing that they were walking in silence, he ventured, "Have you been enjoying your first day here?"

  "Yeah—it’s certainly been interesting. I was born here, apparently, but it really doesn't mean anything to me."

  "It will," Pyrrhus vowed quietly as they reached the top of the staircase. "This place has a way of endearing itself to you."

  Nolan stuck his hand out again. "Thanks for the help. I think I know my way from here."

  Pyrrhus accepted the handshake. "I'm sure you do." Without another word, he turned his back on Nolan and made his way down the hall to his own room, closing the door quietly behind him and leaving Nolan alone in the hall.

  When Nolan finally reached his room, Angus was already in the bottom bunk.

  “What took you so long?” he asked suspiciously.

  “Got lost,” Nolan said shortly, quickly changing and setting his alarm for six in the morning, then climbing into the top bunk.

  “Lost? How the hell did you...?” Angus trailed off.

  Nolan had a feeling that his classmates, after spending eighteen summers in Caer Anglia, never got lost.

  “Forget it. Good night,” Angus muttered at last before reaching over and turning out the light.

  Chapter Nine

  Nolan's next conscious sensation was the incessant buzzing of his alarm. He tried to slap it quiet and almost fell out of the bunk he had forgotten he was perched upon.

  He grumbled a few obscenities as he caught himself with an arm and a leg and lowered himself carefully to the floor. He glared at the offending noisemaker and was about to silence it for good when his eyes focused enough to read the time.

  7:57AM.

  Frantically, he pressed the button on the top of the alarm and checked to see that the alarm time, rather than the 6:00 he was expecting, was set for 7:55. With a curse, he threw on the first shirt he could find and tore from the room, frantically trying to figure out what had happened with every step he took. The only solution he could come up with was that someone had changed the time the alarm was set for. What a fabulous way to begin the year.

  By the time he thundered into Jenkins' basement classroom, he was a good fifteen minutes late. All heads turned to look at him, including his uncle's.

  “Not a good start, Mr. Aeron,” Jenkins said tonelessly.

  “I'm sorry, Proctor Jenkins—my alarm wasn't set correctly.” He cut his eyes to Angus, and was furious to see the boy avoiding his gaze.

  “Sit down. I will discuss this with you after class.”

  “Yes, sir.” Thoroughly embarrassed now, he picked the closest empty seat and dove for it.

  “Now, as I was saying, my name is Proctor Robert Jenkins, and this is Numina Development, Group A. In this class, you will discover your own numina by evaluating your strengths and weaknesses. We will spend Tuesdays on theory, while our Thursday sparring classes will be practical.” The class murmured in excitement, and even No
lan looked up.

  “I remind you, the things we attempt will be dangerous. You may have been blessed with these abilities, but the privilege of using them can be stripped from you if the Administration so chooses,” Jenkins reminded them with a frown. “We will not be doing much today in terms of actual power structure, but I’ll ask you each to fill out a piece of paper with your name, your power, any specialties you may have, and any training you’ve had prior to walking into this room.”

  Ten minutes later, he collected the papers and flipped through them. Occasionally he would stop and read one more carefully before moving on.

  “Jonas Keller?”

  A tall boy in the back of the class raised his hand. “That’s me.”

  “It says here you specialize in vines. What does that mean, exactly?”

  Jonas grinned at one of the girls in the class, his teeth startlingly white against his dark skin, and threw his hand out at the wall next to her chair. Snakelike vines flew from the cracks between the mortar and wrapped themselves around the legs of her seat as he pulled, yanking her next to him. With a twist of his wrist he sent them back, leaving the wall unharmed.

  Jenkins nodded as the girl giggled. “Interesting. Do you only find long vines, or can you encourage growth?”

  “Give me one plant cell; I can make you a forest.”

  “You taught yourself?”

  “Yep—everything I know.”

  Jenkins moved on to the next slip. “Ann-Marie Allegro?”

  A girl in the front with long, dark, curly hair looked up. “Yes?”

  “It says here you’re an Aqua... Do you have a specialty?”

  She hesitated. Jenkins looked up at everyone, a hint of sternness in his tone. “In this classroom you are to be completely honest with me. No hiding, or I will be unable to help you fulfill your potential.

  She sighed and said, “Sometimes, when I sing in choir, things happen.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like—one time, I was singing in my choir, and a few guys started wandering up the aisles toward me. They looked asleep.”

  Someone tittered in the back, and Ann-Marie blushed.