"Why did you tell me now? Does--" He had a terrible thought, and glared down at her. "Does everyone else know you've been playing me for a fool?"
"Some of the others know about it, yes. I asked them not to tell you."
"So you're not only a liar, you've made my friends liars, too."
"Nolan..."
"Don't. I... I'm too angry right now. Just leave me alone for a while." He spun on his heel and headed straight for Pyrrhus's room, ignoring her sobs.
When Pyrrhus opened the door, a soggy Nolan was glaring at him from below his bangs. "You knew and didn't tell me?"
"Come on in, grab a towel."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Nolan, I didn't know what she was doing at first. I'm the one that made her swear to tell you- it had gone too far. Obviously, since it's now midnight, the oath kicked in and made her do it." He checked his desk drawer and saw an evaporating droplet where her debt marker had been. He tossed a towel to Nolan, who began rubbing his hair with a ferocity that made Pyrrhus wince.
"Ifeellikeanidiot," he mumbled through the layers of terrycloth.
"What?"
"I feel like an idiot! She kept it from me this whole time—who else is lying to me? Why didn't Uncle Robert tell me?"
"I don't think he knows how far you and Leiani had gone—I think he assumed you knew and were already like a brother to her."
Nolan snorted. "Well, it's over between us. It's just too damn bad that I can't avoid her—she’s everywhere."
Pyrrhus nodded slowly. "She will be your sister-in-law someday, so I hope for your mother's sake that the two of you can put this behind you at some point."
"What about Alan? Will he still want to marry her when he finds out she was with me?"
"That betrothal is iron clad. I don't know what she was thinking, but she will be Alan's wife, whether they like it or not."
Gia had the same opinion when he asked her about it later that week.
“Even if you wanted to fight your brother for her, I don’t see how you could unless your mother, the Queen, and Alan all agreed.”
“I don’t want to fight my brother for her—he can have her.”
Gia’s mouth quirked for a moment, but she suppressed the smile ruthlessly. “You were certainly more enamored of her last week… why the change of heart?”
“First of all, I don’t like being lied to,” he said with a frown, turning a rock over in his hands a few times. Gia’s snort of laughter startled him into dropping it.
“What?” he demanded.
“You’ve been lying to her since the beginning!” Gia said, managing a straight face only with the greatest of effort. “You’ve told her at least twice in my hearing that you have no idea where the Sword is, or who the Swordsmith is.”
“Those are lies I’ve had to tell for safety’s sake—do you think I enjoy lying to her? To everyone? Hers was different. She lied to cover up the fact that we could never be together—honestly, I thought you’d be on my side in this one!”
Gia sighed. “Nolan, there are no sides. Of course I understand your pain and know you feel betrayed. I can also see how much it hurts Leiani to let you go. I hate her guts, but I can still feel for her.” She scooted closer to Nolan and rested her head briefly on his arm. “To lose you—whether it’s your love or your friendship or your trust—can’t be easy.”
He put his arm across her shoulders and squeezed before standing and swooping down for the rock. He bounced it twice in his palm and threw it with a pitcher’s arm, watching it disintegrate against the baileys in a shower of sparks and rock dust. “I trust three people in this whole building,” he said with a sigh, leaning against the base of one of the corner statue. “You’ve proven you can keep a secret, my uncle is blood, and Pyrrhus hasn’t steered me wrong yet. I used to trust Leiani—now I know that’s not possible anymore.”
“She’ll be your sister-in-law,” Gia ventured.
“I know! You all seem fond of reminding me of that!”
“Don’t get growly—I just want to make sure you understand that this is not just about the two of you anymore. This will be about your mother, her mother, and your brother, as well. You may be able to avoid her for a little while, Nolan, but eventually you’ll have to work this out.”
“Alan!” Nolan groaned. “He’ll hate me.”
“If he’s smart, he’ll hate her first.”
“I don’t want him to hate anyone!”
“It may be too late for that. It will depend on how Leiani spins the story when she sees him. You may want to try your mother first—she’ll definitely be more forgiving on your side of things.”
“You’re too logical,” he grumbled, sliding down the wall with his back to it and leaning against the wall next to her dangling legs. He felt her drop a casual kiss onto his hair.
“Logic will set you free, my friend,” she joked before moving for the door. “Think about what I’ve said… I’ll send Pyrrhus up to sit with you. It’s getting too cold for me.”
She slipped down the stairs and was gone, leaving Nolan alone for a few minutes. He spent most of it uncomfortably aware of the place where she kissed him, and chastising himself for reading into something so obviously innocent. By the time Pyrrhus reached him, he was staring off into the sky, watching the snow fall in ever thickening flakes.
“I see why she sent me up,” Pyrrhus said with a laugh, tossing Nolan his coat and taking a seat next to him. His body temperature was turned up, putting out enough warmth to keep Nolan from freezing, as well. “She doesn’t do well in the cold with all those hollow bones.”
“Was I an idiot to get involved?”
“With Leiani? Most definitely.”
“In general.” His voice sounded distant, his mind still caught up in something far from the rooftop.
“Are you asking me if you should refrain from ever having another relationship?”
“I guess so.”
Pyrrhus’s hand came up so fast Nolan had no time to duck.
“Ow!” he exclaimed, rubbing the back of his head. “What did you do that for?”
“You’re going to let one woman ruin women for you forever?”
“That’s not—“ Nolan huffed, embarrassed. “I meant, is there too much going on for me to risk it?”
“Have someone new in mind already?”
“I just became single again!”
“Not an answer.”
Nolan kept speaking, ignoring Pyrrhus. “I just—it’s a lot to expect someone to keep a secret, you know?”
“I see. Your trust fruit has been bruised.”
The ridiculousness of the comment coupled with Pyrrhus’s sage expression had the desired effect—Nolan burst out into laughter so hard he almost hurt himself.
“Yes, Pyrrhus,” he gasped, trying to regain his breath. “My trust fruit has been bruised.”
“Funny thing about trust fruits,” he said blithely. “Unlike real fruit, they tend to scab over, and then heal completely. A full recovery, I’d say, once this is all said and done. You can’t just hand your trust fruit to anyone, Nolan. You barely knew Leiani at all before you tossed it at her.”
“Pyrrhus, really,” Nolan said, objecting more to the metaphor than the meaning.
“I’m on a roll, shut up. No, your trust fruit is a fragile being. It needs to be nurtured by someone you can count on… someone you know better than you knew Leiani.”
“Have someone in mind?”
“Do I look like a matchmaker to you?”
Nolan had learned months ago that, since Pyrrhus never lied directly, an evasive statement was the best way to tell if he was trying NOT to lie to you.
“Okay, this conversation is over.”
“No, no, wait. One last thing—seriously, this time.”
“No more trust fruit.”
“I promise.”
“Go ahead.”
“You have a small circle of people that you trust, right?” He didn’t even wait for Nolan�
��s nod before he continued. “Until the end of the year, I think it’s best that you keep it that way. Once everyone knows what we know, then you won’t feel like it’s a burden on every relationship you have. You’ll be too busy trying to keep yourself alive until then to go on dates, anyway.”
“Yeah, I’ve definitely noticed an uptick in the ‘attempted murder’ column since the holidays,” Nolan joked.
“It’s not funny. Leiani was at least a bit of protection for you—she’s a powerful Heir, backed by an even more powerful mother. Once it becomes common knowledge that you two are over, more people will slide off of the fence—and not to your side.”
Nolan thought for a moment, then nodded. “I think you’re absolutely right. Thank you—that helped.”
“Anytime. And, to answer your original question without getting too mushy, I think there’s a perfect person out there. You need to be patient.”
“Patience isn’t really one of my virtues.”
“Then don’t be patient, see if I care! But if you pick the wrong one again, I can’t be held responsible for your life. You’re on your own.”
Nolan laughed and gave him a shove. “All right, no more girls until after the Rite of Passage. Should I make you stick to that, too?”
Pyrrhus smirked. “If you want to, go right ahead. I don’t think I’ll find it as difficult as you will.” He clapped Nolan on the back and gestured him to his feet. “We’re going to be late for your favorite class!”
Nolan groaned. “Tell her I’m dead.”
“She’d throw a party, I think. Hey! It would get me out of listening to her—let’s.”
“No—when she found out I wasn’t actually dead, it would only get worse. We’ll have to just face it.”
As usual, Dr. Castillo was full of wonderful anecdotes. “The 77th Swordsmith, Oswin Aeron, was one of particular ineptitude. The year was 1638… the place, Dartmoor, England. Though the council officially met in London every winter, the Nine were scattered throughout England at this time in their various country estates. Aeron, being a contrary and disagreeable man, insisted on living amongst common peasants. He resided in the small village of Widecombe-in-the-Moor.”
Someone in the class gasped out loud, and Dr. Castillo widened her eyes with a grin. “I see we have a historian in our midst!” she said, picking a flushed Claire out of the group. “Yes, Miss Connor? What do you know about Widecombe-in-the-Moor?”
“1638 was the year of the Great Thunderstorm,” Claire said in a tiny voice, mortified. “The church was struck by lightning in the middle of a service—four people died, sixty were injured. Legend has it…” she trailed off, her eyes darting to Nolan.
Dr. Castillo figuratively pounced. “Don’t look at him, girl! Go on. Legend states?”
“That the Devil did it.”
Castillo made a satisfied humming noise not unlike a bee buzzing around a honeypot. “The Devil did it. Now, we all know that there must be a more logical answer than that. The Swordsmith lived in that town at that very moment, was one of the few people not in the church that day, and the church was stricken by his precise numina.”
Nolan broke his own rule: he opened his mouth. “Are you implying that my ancestor burned down a church full of people?”
“Not implying, Mr. Aeron—stating as an absolute fact. Though I cannot prove his motives, of course, my assumption is that he was playing with techniques far above his capabilities and hurt others in the process.”
Pyrrhus was watching him like a hawk; Nolan could feel his gaze on the back of his neck, silently urging him to let it go.
“What right do you have to say something like that?” Nolan demanded, feeling more than hearing Pyrrhus’s groan behind him. “Who do you think you are?”
“Who do I think I am? I am your teacher, Mr. Aeron—your superior.”
“You may be my teacher, Dr. Castillo, but you most certainly are not my superior.”
“On your feet, Mr. Aeron,” she snapped, a look of fierce satisfaction on her face. “I will not tolerate your sass in this classroom. We will go and see your uncle; perhaps he will finally see sense. Miss Disanza, watch the class for me, please.”
With that, she sailed out the door, expecting Nolan to follow. Nolan, knowing his uncle, obliged, but not without a wink and a grin to Gia on his way out, who grinned back and turned to face the class as he closed the door behind him.
Dr. Castillo’s pace was brisk, and her legs even longer than his, so Nolan struggled a bit to keep up. When he finally reached her, she was knocking on Jenkins’ office door.
“Avis!” he said pleasantly as he answered the door. “Shouldn’t you be in class—“ He spotted Nolan standing behind her, spine absolutely straight, and sighed. “I see. Come in, please.”
Nolan followed her inside and waited while Castillo and Jenkins settled into chairs. He stayed standing, on the rug in front of the fireplace, feeling just a bit absurd.
“Robert, your nephew is a disturbance in my class and an arrogant back-talker. I know he has already been in trouble once this year, and this makes two. By your own admission, he is subject to punishment after the second offense.”
“Avis, perhaps we can establish a specific example of his… back-talkery? Nolan?”
“Now, Robert!” she objected as Nolan opened his mouth to speak. “We’ve known each other since we were children! Surely you can take my word for it?”
“Surely if the offense is that egregious, it will out regardless of who tells it? Go on, Nolan.”
“Dr. Castillo is teaching us about the 1600s, and she flat out told us that my ancestor burned down a church and murdered children for the fun of it.”
Jenkins shot Castillo an exasperated look. “Avis, I’ve warned you about your skewed histories, haven’t I?”
“All of my work is meticulously researched! I have proof for every assertion I make.”
“You can’t possibly prove someone’s thought processes!” Nolan objected. “Unless you have a written confession from the 1600s lying around…?”
“You see! It’s this exact thing that is disrupting my class!”
Jenkins held his hands up for silence. “Avis, you cannot expect the boy to take the slandering of his ancestors sitting down. On the other hand, Nolan, it’s rude to interfere with Dr. Castillo’s lecture.”
“What will his punishment be?” she demanded.
“No punishment, Avis.”
“You favor him, Robert. It’s to his detriment. He will have to learn that not everyone views the Aeron family through rose colored glasses like you do.”
“And not everyone paints them all with the same dirty brush.”
They sat glaring at one another for a moment while Nolan shifted his weight to his other foot, looking towards the door.
Dr. Castillo rose abruptly, brushing out her skirts with quick, angry movements. “Very well—Mr. Aeron, you are dismissed for the rest of the period. Make sure you get the notes from someone else.” When she reached the door, she turned back to Jenkins. “You can’t protect him forever.”
“I’ll protect him as long as I can, Avis—even from you.”
She slammed the door shut behind her, leaving them in the room alone. Before Nolan could ask his uncle what had just happened, Jenkins spoke without looking at him. “Just go, Nolan. Please.”
He closed his mouth and nodded, even though his uncle couldn’t see him. He left the room without a second glance.
Chapter Eighteen
As the months wore on, their inability to leave Caer Anglia began to push many students to the brink of insanity. Staunch allies were arguing, relationships were ending and restarting every day, and people were bursting into tears or laughing hysterically at the slightest provocation. Though no one knew for sure that Nolan Aeron was the reason for their imprisonment, they certainly suspected, and he found himself the recipient of many a cold stare and furious slur. Despite their rancor, the next victim of the rapidly approaching Rite of Passage wasn’t
Nolan.
Monique Wilson, the only student who lived alone, was missing from classes for a whole day before someone thought to go check on her. Isabella noticed her absence and knocked on the door, pushing it open when no one answered.
Her scream brought everyone running.
Monique was lying across the floor at the foot of her bed in her pajamas, unconscious. A deep red—almost black—circle of blood stained the rug beneath her, and she didn’t respond to Isabella’s frantic shaking and shouting.
“Call one of the Medica girls!” someone shouted as Jenkins pushed his way through to the front of the crowd.
“Back off, give us some room,” he ordered. He felt for a pulse and found one. “Monique, can you hear me?” She didn’t respond. He swabbed a bit of the blood from the back of her head to look at the wound, then conjured a bit of water to rinse it clean. “She’s been burned and hit with something heavy,” he said to Captain Selocrim, blocking the doorway. “Who is her Rite of Passage opponent?”
Selocrim took out her notebook, taking in the page in a glance. “Elliot Chancery.”
“Ignis?”
“Yes.”
“Restrain him for questioning and take him to my office. Ah, Kuriyami and Elizabeth. Please take Miss Wilson down to the surgery room and keep me updated—it looks superficial, but she still hasn’t woken up.”
“Can we have help?” Liz asked. “I don’t think we can move her alone.”
Jenkins turned to the nearest person and pressed him into carrying Monique downstairs for the girls. He headed down the hall and across the front foyer to his office, where Captain Selocrim was standing with a bucket of water and a soaking wet Elliot Chancery tied to a chair.
“Good thinking, Captain,” he said as Elliot spluttered through the new wave of water splashing across his face. “Mr. Chancery.”
“Proctor,” he said through his dripping bangs. “What a pleasant surprise.”
“Every year, you fools,” Jenkins said sadly, drawing up a chair and sitting facing Elliot. “Why couldn’t you just wait until the Rite of Passage?”
Elliot knew he was caught and simply shrugged. “I saw her in a moment of weakness and thought I could just end it now.”
Pins and Needles (The Chosen Book 1) Page 17
