by N. M. Howell
After Lymir had returned to cleaning up, casting the occasional glare of suspicion, Andie read a little while longer and managed to finish her cranium-sized beer. Her dragon blood gave her a naturally high tolerance level, but that didn’t stop her eyes from beginning to roll in their sockets.
She stared into the fire, trying to focus. She began to remember bits and pieces of her dream, possibly from the alcohol. There was screaming. And the woman at the precipice was calling for help. She thought she could feel her magic growing stronger in her veins, which she quickly chalked up to the gargantuan beer. It suddenly occurred to her that the portal might have something to do with her dreams. It didn’t make sense, of course, but she couldn’t shake the feeling. It might have something to do with the room in the back of the archives, too. Her dreams had intensified ever since she heard the voices through the door.
Then she just knew. It was the portal that was behind the door.
Some minutes after her epiphany, Andie was finally ready to go home. She began packing up the journals and picking over the plate Lymir had brought her, as there was still over half of the enormous helping left. Just as she was slinging her bag over her shoulder and getting ready to say goodbye to Lymir, the door opened. It was Tarven. It was hard to tell who was more surprised to see him: her or Lymir.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, trying not to think of the conversation she’d overheard in Leabherlann.
“I saw you come in and I just wanted to know if it was okay if I joined you for a drink.”
“Tarven, I’ve been in here for hours. Have you been standing outside this whole time?”
“Well, practically,” he said.
She got the distinct impression he was lying, which bothered her. If he hadn’t followed her, then how had he found her there? But he smiled that impossible smile of his and she was won over. He moved to sit down, but then he caught Lymir’s eye. She had no way to describe the look they shared, it seemed one of ominous recognition.
“Why don’t we grab a drink somewhere else?”
Andie looked over at Lymir, who pretended not to notice and kept wiping glasses.
“Okay. Sure,” Andie said, suspicious in spite of herself.
On the way out, she looked back at Lymir and that time he was ready for her. He moved one of his worn fingers slowly to his mouth, a silent plea for Andie to keep her secrets to herself.
Chapter Twenty-One
As they were leaving the tavern, Andie was considering Tarven. Not only was he caught up in something that sounded beyond dangerous, he was clearly not very good at whatever his job was supposed to be carrying out. His position, his very existence, was on the line. Then of course there was the business with Raesh and whatever Tarven or his friends, or Tarven and his friends, had done to frighten him so deeply to his core.
These things in connection with the many things Tarven knew that he wasn’t supposed to know was beginning to wear on Andie, and not merely wear on her, but wear her down. How could she trust him knowing everything she knew? He’d had a full day with her and hadn’t even known it.
“You know, it’s later than I thought,” she said. “A lot later. I’m actually pretty tired.”
To give authenticity to the charade, Andie looked at her phone to check the time. Her eyes bulged. It was almost four in the morning. As if they were merely waiting for an acknowledgement of the time and their limit, her eyes got so heavy she bent her head.
“Oh,” Tarven said, clearly searching for something persuasive to say. “You... come on, you’re in the Academy now. Live a little.”
“How original,” she responded.
She was as unimpressed as she sounded, though she meant to sound more joking. She tried to make up for it.
“I mean, what are we going to do at this time of the night anyway? And, just out of curiosity, how did you find me?”
“I told you, I saw you go into that tavern.”
“No, you didn’t.”
Tarven stopped in his tracks. He stood there, looking at the ground, and breathing irregularly. She’d caught him lying again and he knew it.
“There’s no way you followed me from the University,” Andie continued. “So, unless you just happened to be in the neighborhood and happened to walk into that tavern and happened to see me and decided to lie, you must’ve had some device or something that helped you find me. So, how did you do it?”
She’d decided to get the truth out of him and was doing it before she’d even really thought about. She hoped going on instinct could work twice in one day, but she was also conscious of the two-way street of suspicion. The last thing she needed was to arouse his suspicion by over-saturating him with her own, especially considering the mystery and danger surrounding whoever it was he was working for. That fear grew in her mind as she waited for Tarven to respond.
Finally, he said, almost sheepishly, “Let me walk you home.”
Torn amongst fear, uncertainty, suspicion, and the growing desire for self-preservation born out of the ubiquitous cautions to mind her business, Andie caved. “Coward,” she thought to herself.
They walked on, quietly at first, but then they began to chat about trivial things. Somewhere between Avenue 664 and Maith Root, Tarven showed surprising dexterity and slipped his hand in hers almost without her knowing. Contrary to her better judgement, she allowed herself to forget about the secrets surrounding him—well, not forget, exactly.
There was no way she could forget the cloud of deceit Tarven moved in, but she couldn’t help how much she liked him. There were times, like that very moment, when he was near perfect. Sweet, charming, handsome, and all-consuming. She definitely had mixed feelings, but she was aware now of something much stronger than that beneath. She didn’t know if he had a way with women or a way with her, but it was a fantastic way. Sometimes it seemed surreal that he should be giving her so much attention, that he should be so interested in her. He could have anyone in the entire school—she was pretty sure he was aware of this—and maybe even all of Arvall.
“So, what happened to you in the library?” he asked. “That was some screaming fit.”
She had to think for a moment. She couldn’t say that she’d seen him in Leabherlann, as she had hid when he passed her. But she also knew that he was supposed to have work that time of the evening. He should have been in a completely different wing of the University. Or maybe he’d been lying all along. Or maybe someone just called him with the news. Who knew?
“I just had a bad dream,” she said. “A really, really bad dream. And on top of that, I’ve been feeling a little overworked lately. Just a bad combination.”
“Want to talk about it?”
The honest concern in his voice only further warmed her to him.
“Not really. Maybe some other time. I think the best thing to do might be to drop a class to lighten the stress.”
“But you were doing so well.”
“Yeah, but it’s been really tough. The Academy’s been a lot harder than I expected. What about you? How’s your hortological work in the gardens? All about understanding the life of the plant, right?”
“And I am struggling to understand and to not strangle the life from said plants.”
She laughed and he smiled at her. That smile.
“Actually, I could use some more of your help out there.”
“Funny you should ask. I’m actually eager to get back there and practice my magic. With you.”
Half an hour and a tremendous amount of flirting later, they arrived at Marvo’s restaurant. As if on Cue, Raesh appeared in the window and of all the things in the street for him to look at his eyes went straight to her and Tarven. Noting this, Andie tried to wrap things up with Tarven quickly.
“Okay, so I’ll-”
Before she could finish, Tarven pulled her into a kiss. Her immediate instinct was to resist, for Raesh’s sake, but, much to her own personal chagrin, she mildly swooned in his arms. Her hesitation and inhibitions
swept away, she kissed him back with everything she had. She would try to describe it in words to herself later, but there were none. It was perfect.
“Come to the Winter Festival with me,” he said.
The look in his eyes was the one Andie imagined in the eyes of every man risking his pride for something, someone, he truly wants. He seemed so beyond genuine, as though he not just wanted her there, he needed her there.
“Yes. Of course, I’ll go with you.”
Simultaneously, she was convincing herself that she had been insane to doubt him. Certainly, there were things about him that didn’t make sense to her, but how could she cast doubt on him just because she didn’t understand? After all, she was the one who was blatantly lying to everyone, every day. Right then she decided that he was kind, trustworthy.
Tarven turned and left.
Raesh was still standing in the window. Slack-jawed. Devastated.
Somehow, he seemed like a child there; it was like he was lost or thought he was lost. Maybe he was frozen there, stuck in his disbelief, or even paused by his own volition until his mind and his heart caught up to each other. Andie couldn’t face him and yet couldn’t quite turn away, leaving herself turned half away from him, looking back at his hurt expression almost over her shoulder. Neither of them was moving, like some agreement of shame and despair. She kept thinking to herself “That didn’t happen. That didn’t happen. That didn’t happen.” Yet the taste and the feel of Tarven’s lips were still on her mouth.
Unconsciously, her hand rose to her mouth and felt the skin there and it was almost like she was trying to confirm or deny it. Raesh still hadn’t moved an inch and even when Marvo came up behind him, smiling and chattering away, he remained still as a statue. When Marvo found his son was unresponsive, he turned over his shoulder and called.
He still hadn’t seen Andie in the street. As if the situation weren’t bad enough, Carmen came hurrying over to check on her cousin. But she’d hardly made it to the window when she saw Andie outside, not ten yards from the glass. She simply pointed outside. Marvo turned his head and found Andie. His mouth threw questions at her, but she couldn’t answer. She really couldn’t. And then Carmen was anxiously pointing at something behind Andie.
The next thing Andie knew, she was on the ground. A car was speeding down Rholdan, its exhaust blowing vermillion as its crystals died from age and probably ill-keeping. Andie gazed around her and found no one. She realized she must have jumped aside by some survival instinct. When she looked back at the restaurant, she had just enough time to see Raesh storming away into the back, Carmen following close behind and obviously trying to get him to calm down. Marvo was hurrying out of the front of the store to come check on Andie, but she held her hand up to stop him.
“It’s not right,” she thought to herself. “He shouldn’t have to come and check on me, not when his son needs him more. I can’t believe that happened. I can’t believe I let it. He’ll never forgive me.”
And of that last part she was almost certain. Raesh had a good heart, a pure heart, but everyone had their limits. And what would it mean for Carmen? Would she decide to take her cousin’s side? Were there really sides? Was it coming to that? And if Carmen left, she was sure to take Yara and anybody else she’d introduced Andie to. Even Fohrn in the library. And Marvo. But she couldn’t lose Marvo, too.
She picked herself up and walked right by Marvo, answering his multitude of questions with a curt guarantee of her wellbeing, never stopping her forward motion. And she never stopped moving until she reached her bed and then she collapsed into a breathing ball of shame and regret.
The moment was made even harder because she was so happy to have finally been invited to the festival by Tarven. So much joy and remorse, all at once. She thought of her dad, far away in Michaelson, who she knew was probably thinking of her, too. He would know what to say, and if he didn’t he would hold her, kiss her cheek, and tell her something sweet beyond comprehension. She’d never wanted so much to be back home.
She waved her hand above her and cast a silence charm, blocking out everything in the world. The day had been impossibly long and she just wanted it to be over. She wanted to skip ahead to a time when things were okay again. She closed her eyes and tried to rest. It was nearly five o’clock. She had to get up and get ready in two hours.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Two weeks passed and every relationship in Andie’s life changed.
She hadn’t spoken to Raesh since that night. She saw him constantly, of course, in the restaurant and around the building. She even saw him at most of her hangout spots because he was the one who had shown them to her in the first place. She continued to help Marvo out, but she did less and less and he stopped asking her to do some of the things she’d been doing for months.
Raesh seemed fundamentally different during those weeks; he still went out with his friends and still worked the same schedule at the restaurant, but even when he smiled there was something beneath it. Something that was maybe sad and maybe furious, but something that was, without a doubt, not Raesh. Yet he wasn’t cold toward her. He certainly didn’t put himself in a position to talk to her and he avoided her as often as possible, but when circumstance dictated he needed to interact with her he was as civil as imaginable. And that hurt her even more.
Whatever Raesh had or hadn’t told Marvo, nothing much seemed to have changed. Marvo did what he could to keep them working in different areas or different schedules—after all, he wasn’t an idiot—but outside of that he didn’t treat Andie any differently. He spoke to her more often, if anything, and gentler, as if he’d thought it over and decided that she needed him more than his own son. More likely, however, was that Marvo and Raesh had had at least some minor conversations about Raesh’s feelings for Andie and Marvo had decided to play mediator. He was a good man.
Carmen was more difficult; since that night her signals had been all over the place and Andie couldn’t quite pin down what Carmen wanted or expected, how she truly felt. Andie never knew what side of Carmen she was going to get: it might be the same, playful Carmen Andie had grown close to, or it might be the sullen Carmen who seemed to prefer brooding and judgmental looks, or it might be an outright frustrated and dismissive Carmen, or it might be any one of ten other Carmens who presented themselves without reason or pattern.
It was clear that she was Andie’s friend and equally as clear that she was Raesh’s cousin. Andie accepted that Carmen had been placed in an impossible predicament and simply took her moods as they came, doing her best to let Carmen know that she understood the stunning difficulty of it all.
Andie’s circle outside of Raesh, Marvo, and Carmen was small, but everyone else that she knew seemed to have taken sides. It was either Andie or Raesh. Most people chose Raesh, understandably. But Andie got to keep Yara and most of the students she’d met at the Academy, so things weren’t so bad.
It was the morning of the Winter Festival and Andie was in Victory among the twisting, draping, floating plants. She was helping Tarven with an experimental cross-pollination of fuil glas and anáil fuar; it was for the mirror room, for the festival. There was a total of twelve mirror rooms in the University, but for the one thousandth festival they were using the Grand Mirror Hall of Terpsichore, designed and named in honor of one of the seven founding families. The mirror rooms were made by ancient magic and their texture, dimensions, and design could be changed at will, like spellglass, but only by the board members. The mirror rooms could also appear as one thing to all or as an individual fantasy to each dance couple. There was nothing like the mirror rooms in all of Noelle. Andie and Tarven had been hard at work; after all, no one wanted to be the person responsible for ruining a thousand-year-old celebration.
Andie’s magic had grown steadily stronger since she’d started at the Academy and a strange surge in power had come to her over the last two weeks. The dragonborn was most feared because their magic was so heavily influenced by their mood—a frighten
ed dragonborn could struggle to take on one adversary, but a dragonborn filled with rage could stand against an army.
The University understood this and worked diligently to instill fear in the dragonborn before slaughtering them; just another reason why the massacre was so catastrophically horrible. But, Andie had been happy the last two weeks. Incredibly happy. Tarven seemed to have undergone a change. He was more open with her and he didn’t always seem as if he were hiding something. They were growing closer every day.
“You know, you’re showing a lot of promise out here,” he said. “Maybe you could work at the University one day.”
“Yeah. Yeah, that’s actually exactly what I want to do,” she teased. “Stare at roots all day and wonder if the stem will be half a centimeter longer in two weeks or three.”
“Don’t forget the joy of working with the Seile.”
“Oh, how could I forget. Best part of my day.”
They both laughed. Tarven knew Andie enjoyed working in the gardens as merely a hobby, but he teased her often. Seile was a classification for plants that could shoot poison or psychotropic saliva as projectile crystals. Once they hit their target, the crystals would sink under the skin and disperse. Strong or knowledgeable sorcerers could use magic to delay the effects until they received medical attention. Humans almost always died.
Andie had taken careful note of Tarven’s change over the past fortnight. His whole demeanor had changed and now she felt comfortable with him. She could say that she trusted him with no qualms. It was as if he’d finally decided to put her first and transcend whatever other dark dealings he had. She was no fool, and she remembered everything that had happened, but who was she to judge when she had so many secrets of her own? And it was just that thinking that lead her to want to change herself. She was tired of lying and hiding, and if anyone was there for her to talk to and share with it was Tarven. She’d decided to tell him the truth. Still, true to her cautious nature, she wanted to start with something small, or as small as she could get with the life and death secrets she kept.
