Alicia mumbles under her breath, then returns her attention to Lilah and says, “I’ll see you tomorrow morning?”
After hugging her friend and saying goodnight, Lilah glides to her own room. Too exhausted to shower off the smell of burnt skin and stale wine from her meeting with Director Elmer, she opens her door, stumbles to the edge of the bed, and slips into the oblivion of sleep.
Lilah moans as the six o’clock bell rings through her ears, but she wakes revived and ready for class. The house echoes with noises as the students prepare for the day. Lilah flicks her comforter off her nearly naked body, exposing black signa that contrast sharply against her pale skin. Signa are the patterns that dictate abilities. They are runes both Lux and Nox present with at birth. Some are vibrant in color, but nearly all Nox signa are black.
She scrambles out of bed, opens her closet door, and grabs a clean white towel. Making her way down the hall can be treacherous in the morning when so often the girls’ dormitory erupts in chaos. Girls run from the bathroom and into their room, slam doors and cabinets, and speak in raised voices as they try to remember who was supposed to clean the bathroom last night for this morning’s inspection.
Lilah sighs and steps into the bathroom. Tara, Lou, and Scarlet stand in front of the mirrors, fixing their hair until they look like women in the fashion magazine printed across the ocean called, Fashion. Only Tara and Scarlet will be sent with Lilah to the Ludi in two days. Though the two worry about their appearances more than any of the other female students, Lilah knows not to discount them. They, too, are budding warriors.
Showers line the left wall, and the black tile shines as the beginning of the sunrise sneaks into the bathroom windows. Lilah searches to find one where the curtain isn’t drawn and nearly collides into Alicia. The girls feign annoyance but then break into laughter and shrug, continuing their search for an empty stall. Classes begin at seven a.m. sharp, and Lilah has no luck when it comes to time.
“If someone does not get out of the shower soon—” Alicia yells, throwing her hands up in anger.
“Here, I’m done,” Lee yells back, her black ringlets falling down to her waist and only exaggerating her short stature.
“Thanks, Lee!” Alicia says.
Finally, one of the girls steps out of a stall with a white towel hugging her body like a toga and her hair whipped up with another. Lilah steps forward and into the shower, relieved that she can finally wash off her Director Elmer’s aroma from yesterday.
The hum and buzz of the bathroom settles down to just a few murmuring voices as Lilah starts her routine of washing. She can’t be late and hurries herself along. Today is the last day of classes before the Ludi.
In the bathroom mirror, Lilah watches as her long hair drips down onto the white tiled flooring. The minuscule changes happening to her body fascinate her as she studies herself in the mirror. Lilah no longer sees a young girl, but a young woman. Tucking the end of the towel into itself, she grabs her brush, then untangles her tendrils, her eyes still taking in her form. Her chest blossoms just as the curves of her hips swell. From years of Warrior class, her body is brawny, with well-defined muscles.
Eventually, her gaze wanders to her legs where larger brands mark the skin. Most are from times right before she was expelled from one academy and then placed in another. Though the brands on her thighs are sizable, her hands take the worst of it. If her skin were the stars, the brands would be the infinite darkness surrounding them. Lilah’s hands shape into fists and tension knots her core, but she refuses to be distracted and finishes brushing her hair before rushing to her room so she can dress.
There is one signa that continues to perplex Lilah. She doesn’t risk examining it out in the openness of the bathroom, so she depends on the spiral pattern’s slow, painful climb to remind her of its presence on the skin of her left ribcage. It must be related to her imminent ascension occurring on her eighteenth birthday, which is only seven days away, on the second of December. The Nox ascension stands in mystery for Lilah. Since she grew up with a Lux guardian, the details she knows about the ritual are limited and it isn’t something one asks or talks about with others, since Nox value secrecy of their abilities. What she does know is that through ascension, Nox gain additional signa and anima. It shoots shocks of random pain throughout the day. She does have a theory it is related to that faceless thing growing inside of her, the one in contrast to the sapling for kindness. Whenever she uses a large amount of anima, a peculiar feeling washes over her body, while unknown anger colors her blood darkly. She wonders, Is it the cause for my more frequent temper flares?
Lilah has hidden the signa from her instructors, even from Alicia, since she first noticed it developing earlier in the school year. Her gut warns her of its power, of its meaning. The swirling design—a maze drawn on her body—compels Lilah to remain silent about its existence. She listens with the utmost obedience. Besides this large signa, Lilah has another one of equal size on her left ribcage: a dagger-pierced heart, the signa for a Nox Warrior.
Back in her room, hurrying to dress in her gear specialized for warriors, Lilah pauses to gaze at her reflection on the window glass. She traces the silver padding on the chest of the black shirt she wears, which protects all her vital organs. The padding runs the length of her upper arms and thighs, protecting the large arteries beneath the skin. Despite its bulky appearance, the fabric is not constricting and lets her move freely. Lilah grabs her gloves, made of the same spellbound material as the rest of her gear, and races out of her room.
She takes off down the hallway, sliding the turn onto the stairs, which she takes two at a time. Turning toward the back of the house, she reaches the heavy black metal door leading outside—a door that reminds her of the basement chamber where she received her tenebrae—and enters the sunlit gardens.
The smell of dying blooms hits her nostrils. A faint hiss emanates from the metal fence encasing the yard, a residual effect of the gray smoke rising slowly from the tops of the metal poles. Lilah knows how to get around the incantation—just about everyone does. The magic compelling the students to stay inside is outlawed by the Order.
The Order outlawed or banned many Nox practices when they first rose to power, but in Lilah’s experience, their rulings mean nothing. Tenebrae, the magic used to punish those who have done wrong in the eyes of academy directors, is one such example.
Making things worse—or better—the Order poorly upholds the bans. With only a few Nox members, and tensions still high between the two sects, Nox don’t concern themselves with implementing the bans. In fact, in most cases, they ignore them completely. And since the Order has no way of enforcing the bans, the Nox continue as they always have with their own traditions and customs.
A unified government doesn’t exist, so she lives in a place where the strong overpower the weak. Power is the only thing Nox respect, and that the Order lacks.
She’s amazed at the disarray the world is still in.
Charlotte wakes when a sharp sensation jolts her hand—a summoning from the signa that binds her to Alessandra. Her heart quickens, but she doesn’t let her apprehension muddle her thoughts for too long. This is no time to lose ambition or grow weary. She got the file. Charlotte turns in the small cot, closing her eyes. Images of her mother’s face flood her memory, and her eyes jolt back open. Cursing loudly, she shoves herself to standing and dresses, becoming a shadow as the dark cloth disembodies her.
On the way to Alessandra’s private quarters, Charlotte picks up a candle lying on the dirt floor of the long twisting halls. Natural light dwells above ground, but here, only darkness holds sway. Charlotte forgot how easy it is to get lost down here. She wonders what is hidden in the black abysses at the end of each hallway but dares not venture down them to see what lurks in the shadows. Best leave the darkness alone.
Turning into Alessandra’s hallway, Charlotte sets the candle down before continuing, knowing the light would infuriate Alessandra, who prefers to stay in
the dark. A crude painting of conjoined twins covers Alessandra’s door, making it easy to spot in the dismal hall. She extends her hand to knock on the door when it silently opens. Not surprisingly, all Charlotte spies beyond the threshold is darkness. “Master, you called?” Tilting her head, she waits for a response. Silence. “You summoned me?”
A shadow crosses the obscurity, ever so slightly shifting the darkness. The slithering figure moves closer and closer, until the hairs on the back of Charlotte’s neck rise up in protest. A laugh rattles off the walls. Charlotte lets her eyes adjust for a moment, blinking them several times. A slender figure sits atop what looks like a desk, but it could also be the edge of the bed. When she takes a step forward, the room explodes with light. Alessandra sits on a stool, her black eyes and hair swallowing her form. She is slender but sinewy; pale but vibrant. “Now, let’s talk about our little business?”
Charlotte nods. She holds up the file and reports, “This says the child you seek attends Waterstone Academy and that a ‘Ms. Verna Crowne’ is the guardian.” Protect a child that isn’t even her own . . .
“Waterstone . . .” Alessandra lifts her left hand into the air and the file arrives instantaneously in her grasp. She doesn’t take her eyes away from Charlotte as her fingers rake through the few papers. “Were there witnesses?”
Charlotte goes rigid. Can she feel the subtle shift in Charlotte, the wavering? Can this be a test of her devotion to the goal? “Yes, but I used a different face.” Lie. Lie. Lie. She turns her gaze to the ground. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
“Crowne? Isn’t your name Crowne?”
“Yes.” She swallows.
“Interesting, interesting,” Alessandra purrs. Charlotte gazes up into Alessandra’s black pools for eyes. Alessandra tosses the file to the ground, then conjures over it. The paper rumbles into muck and becomes like the dirt beneath their feet. She sighs heavily, as if a great pressure lifts from her chest. “A senior at Waterstone.” She smiles, then sidles close to Charlotte. “There can be no mistakes. My sister . . . No one can interfere. I must be the only one to find her. Assure me no one will investigate.”
Charlotte swallows her heart. “I can’t.”
“And why might that be?” Alessandra’s black glare locks on to Charlotte’s.
She can’t move or think. Taking a deep breath to compose herself, Charlotte meets Alessandra’s gaze. “She’s my mother. The woman who witnessed me stealing the file is my mother.”
Alessandra’s black eyes waver—or does Charlotte imagine it?—and she covers her face with a pale hand. “The ties that bind us . . .” She laughs, then glares at Charlotte. “Think of our purpose. I will not fail. You will go back and kill this woman. I do not need an interruption.”
Sucking in her breath, Charlotte squeezes her fists, allowing her fingernails to sink into the tender flesh of her palms. This, she can’t do. Her mother’s face falls before her eyes. She couldn’t kill her then, she isn’t going to now. Something shivers within her, and she resigns herself to the notion this will be her last order from Alessandra. She curtly nods. She had thought her resolve in this mission was strong, she had thought what Alessandra sought was righteous, but this? Why has it come to this? “Why her?” she whispers. “Why does this girl matter so much for our mission?”
“She is the only thing that matters!” A smile broadens across Alessandra’s thick lips. Charlotte stands frozen as Alessandra slinks beside her, whispering in her ear, “It is time, Charlotte, for the greatest performance on the greatest stage!”
She doesn’t turn her head. She can feel Alessandra’s unwavering breath on her jawline. She has gone mad. “The greatest stage?” She gasps. “The Ludi?” Charlotte’s teeth clatter loudly in the room, and she clamps her mouth shut. She shouldn’t be rambling. Charlotte blocks these thoughts from her mind—she knows there’s no need to worry; Alessandra’s resolve will lead them on the right path, this Charlotte does not doubt.
Her grin devilish, Alessandra tilts her chin up. “Thank your mother for me. Without her diligent records, I wouldn’t have this opportunity to show my wondrous discovery.” She drops her arms, and the grin fades to a growl. “Leave now and don’t return without evidence of the woman’s death.”
With long strides, Charlotte exits the room, down the labyrinth of corridors, until she reaches a door that leads above ground. The door creaks open—just an inch, just a crack—to bright morning light. Hands sweaty, she clutches at the fabric of her shirt, then closes her eyes and moves.
“I’m sorry class is still too early for some of you,” Instructor Petrovna says, but it is no apology. She points at Lilah and says, “I did not expect you to be the one late today.”
“I’m sorry, Ms. Petrovna,” Lilah says, her eyes downcast in respect.
With a gentle face like the women in the magazine, Fashion, Instructor Ilona Petrovna—who insists on being called Ms. Petrovna since, she admits, hearing instructor before her name makes her cringe from bad memories of her own past masters, namely, her own instructors—is a woman easily underestimated. Lilah learned the hard way that Ms. Petrovna is the most cunning and sharpest Warrior instructor she’s ever had. Ms. Petrovna is the epitome of the warrior Lilah wishes to be.
“Tck. Get over here and stretch. I don’t have time to reprimand you, not with the Ludi so soon. There is no time to waste. One day, young warriors. That is all we have to fine-tune our skills for the Ludi. We have to focus. First, we will break up into our groups, so Tad and Zane, Tara with Scarlet, and Lilah and Beau.”
Only six from each school are allowed to compete in the Ludi, so naturally they are the most advanced skill-wise.
“I’ve been informed that there will be sixty competitors, meaning thirty Lux and thirty Nox. Because this is the first year since before the war that all entries from both Nox and Lux academies are filled, the Order has changed the format. All thirty Nox will fight against each other, until ten remain, chosen through defeat or through the judge’s intervention. The same will be done for the Lux. Those ten will then pair off until a single winner is found.”
“A single winner?” Lilah finds herself asking.
Instructor Petrovna turns to her, annoyed. “Yes. Yet again, the Order is trying to change things to ‘help relations between the Lux and Nox.’”
As tensions grew between the sects before the war, the Ludi changed to have two winners, one for the Lux and one for the Nox, and while the war waged on, the Ludi was put on pause. It returned only ten years ago, three years after the war ended, once the Order had its teeth firmly in the meat of the land. Perhaps the Order believes that it has been long enough since the war to return to the traditional format of the event, but that would include real battles.
Tara and Scarlet snicker, probably over some dumb joke. They stand farthest away from Lilah on the other side of the field. Tara’s red hair is unmistakable against the green of the garden, and she stands about a foot shorter than her partner, Scarlet. Tara’s not actually short; Scarlet is rather tall. In their gear, they look formidable.
“Remember,” Ms. Petrovna arranges herself in the middle of a pair, “in an actual fight, all we can do is try and relax to the point where we can control the chaos. But in the Ludi, we are not in a real fight.” She turns to each pair now and gives them a pointed look. “I want to see you defending yourself, along with making advances. Never forget, too, that sometimes you must move toward your adversary to break free, if they have a hold on you.”
“Begin,” Ms. Petrovna instructs. Nimbly, she moves through them with her long spider-like limbs and slender—though not meek—silhouette.
Lilah and Beau stand face-to-face. His glass-blue eyes are even brighter against his tanned skin and fail to hide his anxiety for being paired with her. He has a reputation for his jaunty wit and humor, but Lilah wouldn’t know, since she only hangs out with Alicia.
Beau starts with a simple thrust of his arm toward Lilah’s chest, but she springs away before the hit lands. He fo
llows, and she retreats, and they repeat the process twice more before he attacks again, this time with a kick. Lilah blocks with her right forearm and is scraped by a punch on her shoulder as she steps out of reach. Ducking an oncoming blow, Lilah launches herself forward, locking Beau with her body, pushing him backward a few steps before letting go and returning to a defensive position.
“Good, try not to brace against the movement,” Ms. Petrovna chimes, turning around the circle of students. “Let’s start with our daggers now.”
Beau looks at Lilah and smiles meekly. Now, the fun begins. Lilah resumes her starting position, standing face-to-face with Beau.
“Remember, there is no harming intent here, nor will there be in the Ludi. Begin.”
Of course, this is just an exercise. Practice. The intention to harm will come later. But as she palms the dagger in her hand, a will foreign to Lilah swells within her. A spark leaps in Lilah’s gut. Her breath normalizes, and she keeps her focus not on Beau’s dagger, but on his neck and chest, so that she sees his movements from her periphery. Feeling the subtle amplification of her senses, Lilah exhales, then perceives Beau’s throbbing heartbeat. She waits with a pervading stillness for his assault.
For the first time all day, she feels alive. She whirls the dagger through the air as Beau advances. With her free hand, Lilah grabs his wrist, the one holding his dagger, and feigns thrusting it through the flat of his stomach, his neck, and his right eye, then twists his wrist so that his dagger drops into her now free hand, and Beau shouts in pain. To finish him, she wraps her foot around his ankle and pushes her shoulder into his chest, causing him to fall backward. Then, she feigns stabbing each lung with a dagger.
“You win, Lilah,” Ms. Petrovna says, with a neutral expression but a smile in her voice.
Releasing her hold on Beau, Lilah jumps to her feet and swivels to see the appreciative nod of her instructor and smiles in response. Distracted by her mounting pride, she neglects to recognize Beau’s movement behind her, but something else latches onto her muscles like a leech and jumps to meet him. She can scarcely process what happens before she finds herself slapped into darkness.
Premonition Page 4
