“Just tell me, tell me what’s going on.”
“Lilah, oh child,” Verna mumbles. Truth is a fallacy.
“Mother?”
Mother, she calls me mother. She hasn’t done that since—Verna inhales, focusing on taking deep breaths. I can’t tell her, Florence said . . . She sets her jaw. Verna grabs Lilah’s shoulder and pulls her close. “You have to flee. Now. We have to flee. She is coming!”
“Who? Who is coming?” Lilah breathes, her eye narrowing.
“Your mother,” Verna spits.
Lilah shakes Verna’s shoulder. “Who? Who is my mother?”
“Lilah, wa—” Verna tries to speak, but her words fall limp as she gazes at Lilah. Her daughter stares at her with uncertainty and worry. Verna has frightened her. Lilah’s eyes rake over her body, worry turns her face hard. “Perhaps I should rest. I’m not in a state to talk. But,” Verna hiccups, “be careful, Lilah, please.”
“I will. Okay? I’ll be down the hall with a friend.”
Verna nods and gathers herself, wiping the tears from her chin and cheeks. She takes Lilah’s hands in her own and bores into the blue eyes staring back. “Never forget who you are.” She takes her hand and places it on Lilah’s heart.
Lilah balks, abruptly pulling away from Verna. “Okay.”
Her eyebrows furrow. “Now, go and enjoy tonight.” Verna squeezes Lilah’s shoulder and smiles. I leave it to you.
Lilah hates to see Verna like this, so upset and distraught, but her discomfort leaves her ill-equipped to console Verna, as if she knows how. What Verna said makes no sense. Verna told Lilah Charlotte had died years ago, how could she have been alive? And Alessandra had control over Charlotte? Alessandra’s been gone for thirteen years. Lilah knows there’s no use trying to garner the truth at the heart of Verna’s distress while she’s in such a state. Lilah gathers her things and heads to Alicia’s room.
There is a celebration tonight for the champion—champions, she amends in her mind. Lilah sighs as she unwraps her leathers from her fingers. Still perplexed by her conversation with Verna, Lilah tries to reorganize herself for the ball. Unease boils in her core. She steadies herself, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes. What is happening?
Lilah rubs the lace on the bodice of her dress. She glides around the room, giddy, the black silk of her dress’s skirt whispering just above the floor. Looking in the mirror, she barely recognizes the smoky-eyed woman standing in front of her with moist red lips. Seeing her large smile, she remembers Verna in her room, probably still crying. She sets her jaw. After the ball, she’ll find the right words and offer her condolences, then find out the truth about her mother.
Alicia had offered to do Lilah’s makeup, and she accepted gladly to let her friend do it. Tendrils of curled wheat waves stream across her shoulders and down her back, and her brands hide under the black lace and silk of the dress. Though no one at the Ludi has seen what lurks beneath the fabric—her enchanted gear covered her arms and legs as well—everyone would wonder if their imaginations match the reality. If only they knew. She smirks.
A buzz is about the whole building. People seem to be glad of the two victors, as if both Lux and Nox can share their mutual dislike of the Order in this moment and bask in the apparent disorder of the event.
Lilah will be at the center of the festivities, but then so will Caleb. Both will be presented with a golden medal as a symbol of their achievement, get the first pick of food, and have the first dance.
“I think I like this masterpiece of mine,” Alicia says, her chin jutting up as she gives Lilah one last look over.
Lilah smiles tentatively. “I think I do, too.”
As they walk out of the elevator, they follow the crowd as it meanders into a vast ballroom, brightly lit, and filled to the brim with competitors and families, directors and instructors, and of course, friends. Large round dining tables circle a sizable dance floor.
Lilah spots Instructor Petrovna, who winks and waves with a smile. She keeps searching, scanning left and right. The chaos of the room swallows the sounds of the people. Lilah watches their faces, chins wagging, but she can’t seem to hear the words they speak. Her precise senses fail her. She finds him, standing with a woman.
Alicia shakes her arm. “I’ll see you later.”
Lilah frowns. “Okay.”
Alicia’s brows furrow and her lips purse, but she says nothing.
Mr. Novak, wearing a navy suit, claps his hands, and the sound vibrates off the walls, silencing even the loudest of guests. “Thank you. We’ve all gathered here to feast and celebrate with our honored champions,” he says. Clapping ensues. “Where are our champions?” he says, cocking his head like a bird, and Lilah has to stop herself from laughing.
Alicia pushes Lilah toward Mr. Novak and Lilah’s designated table, and the crowd parts for her. So many eyes fall on her—some wary, others proud. Caleb, dressed in a white suit as per custom, flashes a pleasant smile at Lilah as he meets her at the front of the ballroom.
“We invite the families of the winners to sit at the table of honor tonight,” Mr. Novak says with vigor. This would have been an interesting meeting of families—if Lilah had any. She thinks again of Verna and hears the sound of her sobs echoing in the stillness of her thoughts, How can I have fun knowing you’re not here?
Mr. Novak guides Lilah and Caleb to the table of honor, one split down the center. The starkness of the white glitters in the dim light and the black of Lilah’s side hides the starkness of her guests.
A young woman clings to Caleb’s side as the crowd begins to sit down at the assigned tables. The woman steals hasty glances at Lilah with a scowl. Lilah smiles in return.
“Will anyone be joining you tonight?” Caleb says, taking a quick look around the room.
“No,” Lilah says stiffly. She looks down at her hands, tracing the black brand on her palm.
“I thought I saw someone with you earlier.”
“Yeah.” He doesn’t need an explanation. Lilah can’t stand his entreating gaze and shifts her feet under the table.
“Oh.” He glances at his companion and smiles softly.
Lilah sits in the middle of her side, ignoring his pretentious concern—though she has a feeling it isn’t pretentious at all. Her plate is gold, as is her silverware. She stares at her golden chalice, counting the seconds of heavy silence.
“Ah,” Caleb says. “Let me introduce you. This is my sister, Dalia.”
Dalia smiles with tight lips, but the expression doesn’t reach her cold gray eyes. She wears a white satin gown that rolls down her torso and disappears under the line of the table. The dress is sleeveless, and Lilah’s eyes steal a furtive glance at the pale, unmarked skin of her arms. Dark hair rests over her shoulder and contrasts sharply against the white of her gown.
“Pleasure,” Lilah says, her index finger toying with the plate. She stares into Dalia’s eyes until Dalia breaks the challenging contact. Lilah smirks to stop herself from frowning and looks around the room but doesn’t find where the rest of her academy sits. I’ve always been alone, but I wish I didn’t have to be tonight.
Moments pass in silence.
“Have you enjoyed your stay in the city?” Caleb asks, while servers come around to pour their choice of wine. He waves them away.
Lilah chooses a deep red. The server pours it into the golden chalice. When it touches Lilah’s tongue, she relishes the tart taste. She shrugs.
“What? We don’t deserve an answer?” Dalia pipes in, rolling her eyes.
Lilah smiles and says, “Does my indifference offend you that much?”
“That’s the problem with you Nox. You’re barbaric,” Dalia scoffs. She smiles tautly, and the expression causes her cheeks to pinch and her eyes to squint.
“Dalia.” Caleb rebukes her with a sharp look.
Lilah takes another sip of wine, then shrugs again. “Your opinion means nothing to me.”
Caleb chuckles. “Well, that can always change
.” He makes a tsking noise. “There’s still time to be surprised.”
Lilah sets her chalice down and sets her gaze on Caleb, his blue and gold gaze piercing. When he doesn’t shy away, a blush spreads over her skin. The wine warms her stomach.
Dinner goes quietly. Lilah pushes the food around on her plate, the smells making her nauseous. The unease in her core continues to grow as she listens to the brother and sister talk about meaningless things. Their laughter is easy to come by, and Lilah sits silently observing. A faraway quality overwhelms her senses. This is what family is like. Servers come and clear the tables. People, jovial with drink, crowd around the dance floor.
Mr. Novak claps again, then announces, “At this time, we will have our champions lead us with the first dance.” He gestures to the dance floor, a mesmerizing geometric pattern of shapes and lines.
The music plays softly in the background, a buoyant tune. Lilah has never danced in front of a crowd this large, and even though she’s been taught how to dance with a partner, her palms start to sweat at the thought of dancing with Caleb. Lilah’s stomach heaves, but she manages to keep her face composed with a deep breath.
Offering his hand, Caleb leads her to the center of the ballroom. She can’t help but feel secure in his embrace. She avoids his downward gaze, staring out at the faces instead, but this is almost worst, since she finds her classmates glaring back. The floor is an empty expanse. All Lilah hears is the light clinking of her heels on the marble and the orchestra playing. The notes grow louder as Caleb brings her closer to him.
A slithering sensation creeps up her spine and into her core as he places his hand on the small of her back. Her world narrows to his hand holding hers, the warmth of his smile, and the way she smiles back. Why am I like this? She bites her cheek. Get it together.
After the first song ends and dissolves into another, others join them on the dance floor. Lilah can’t remember the last time she felt this weightless. A laugh ripples up from her core. Soon enough, the whole room seems to spin, and she can’t remember how many songs have passed with her hand in his. But then the glowing, naïve aura shatters. Gasps and screams shatter her attention. Her hand still in Caleb’s warm grasp, Lilah swivels to the chaos.
“Why hello, child,” Alessandra coos—the voice from Lilah’s vision—her black eyes smiling. “I’m glad I could be here for your big victory.”
Chapter Nine
Alessandra throws her head back, laughing maniacally. Her black eyes captivate Caleb, immobilizing him. Her black hair twirls in long wisps. Beside her, a woman’s body hovers in the air, entranced in some kind of sleeping spell. Fingertips held in a graceful stillness, she lies in the air with a contented look on her wrinkled face. This was not a part of the plan.
Lilah flicks her eyes from the woman’s suspended body to Caleb. Caleb’s gaze widens, and he turns his head ever so slightly, grasping her hand tighter. He watches with equal doses of horror and intrigue as Lilah changes: the irises create an indigo color where blue and black overlap and tendrils of thick hair oscillate between the normal wheat color and a darker corruption, an almost Cimmerian quality. Shock settles on his shoulders, rendering him frozen, but his eyes continue to rake over the changes.
“Lilah, no,” he whispers, shaking his head. If you attack her . . .
Alessandra smiles at them.
Lilah rips her hand from Caleb’s grasp and steps forward. “Release her.” Her stance steadies, and her hands form fists.
Surprised by how steady Lilah’s voice sounds, Caleb takes a step backward. He hears the clattering of a single knife dropping to the ground. Someone behind him audibly gasps. No one moves.
Alessandra gathers her hands in front of her, shimmying her shoulders. “You are a silly child. Resist me, and I’ll kill your guardian.”
Caleb exhales. So, this woman is her guardian. His eyes fixate on Lilah’s back. She breathes heavily, her shoulders moving dramatically up and down. In a blink, she jolts forward. Lilah covers the ground in two quick strides. She holds both her palms close to her mouth, beams of light growing from her hands, as the incantations she conjures form.
Alessandra spots the attack in an instant and moves to the left, out of Lilah’s line of assault. As Lilah sweeps past her, Alessandra reaches out and grabs Lilah by the nape of her neck. Lilah grunts as the force pulling her back squeezes the air from her gut. Alessandra throws Lilah’s body to the ground with ease and holds her right palm above Lilah’s forehead, holding her down. Alessandra whirls a knife into Lilah’s shoulder, then turns to the woman’s floating body and throws a spell over her. All this Caleb witnesses in mere seconds.
“No!” Lilah screams.
Verna wakes and begins to scream, the sound echoing up the domed ceiling of the ballroom. Quickly, her screaming stops, and her body falls to the ground, three knives sticking out of her body. Both lungs and her heart pierced through.
Caleb stands paralyzed to the spot. His eyes watch as blood leaks onto the oak floor. Lilah shrieks. His senses alarm and his body warms, but he has orders, so he stands plastered to the spot. The blood, so much blood, puddles on the wood.
Lilah throws her uninjured arm out and kicks with her legs. Caleb watches panic control her face; her eyebrows arch and her teeth show in a growl. Though her efforts are unproductive, she tries still. Unable to watch her struggling, Caleb glances away. But he must see what Alessandra will do, so, painfully, he gazes back at the scene.
“I told you what I would do, and you didn’t listen,” Alessandra chastises. She dashes another knife into Lilah’s other shoulder, staking her body to the floor. “Now, this requires some concentration.”
Lilah’s red lips move, mouthing a word.
“What? Say it again.” Alessandra smiles. Caleb leans in, struggling to hear.
“Mother,” Lilah breathes.
Alessandra’s hair turns murky, her roots bleaching back to a sandy blond.
Someone grabs Caleb’s shoulder. He turns to push it off but freezes when the hooded figure turns. Long hair whisks in the wind, black in color. Eyes transform, just as Lilah’s did. The tilt of her head reveals a round, petite jaw. The hand, covered with brands, reaches up to the smiling mouth with a single finger. Florence Hilt.
Behind her, a man stands obscured by a dark robe and cowl. His gaze seems fixed on a particular spot of the ballroom. Then, he moves into a balanced stance, poised to attack. You must be Jarred Roth.
“Help me,” Lilah mumbles. “Mother.”
Darkness falls over the room. Humid, stale air replaces the previous chill. The wind gathers and swirls with dangerous velocity. Thunder shakes the roof while lightning lights the darkness that has fallen over the ballroom in a flash.
The ballroom erupts in chaos as everyone makes for an exit. Appearing under the massive chandelier, the remaining four members of the Six. Jarred hurls a red incantation at the gathering, while Florence jumps in front of Alessandra, her own wild black eyes shining.
“I’ve finished it! I’ve done what all you thought impossible.” Alessandra’s lips curve into a wild smile. “Join me, sister. Or have you come to stop me?”
“Join you?” Florence spits. “I will never support your heinous plans!” Bringing her hands up, the woman shoves them forward, palms out, toward Alessandra. The white light she creates screeches, or perhaps the screech escapes from Alessandra, Caleb can’t quite tell. The light overwhelms Alessandra, and then she disappears along with the daggers in Lilah’s shoulders.
Caleb watches Florence squat down beside Lilah, checking over her wounds. Her lips move. She smiles, then turns to look at Caleb, her eyes staring into his. Lilah lies in a thick puddle of her own blood. Caleb notices how her pale skin begins to lose its soft pinkness. The woman continues to mumble as the storm intensifies. Caleb neglects to take his eyes off of Lilah’s reducing body. With each breath, she seems to sink closer to the ground.
“Heal her,” Florence Hilt demands, then falls to her knees, huffing.
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Caleb looks to his hands, which shake in the darkness. Heal her?
Another hooded figure comes to help Florence, who covers her mouth when she succumbs to violet coughs. The Six disappear.
Caleb looks back to his hands. Heal her. But he has orders. He hears Lilah gag. His orders don’t seem so important anymore, not when she’s lying in front of him, bleeding out. He rushes to her body, the blood slicking the wooden floor. Her eyes meet his, and he sees the blackness is gone. “Verna?” she mumbles, then loses consciousness.
Caleb closes his eyes and pictures his textbook. He flips through the chapters until he finds the one titled, “Pierced flesh: Battle Wounds.” With a calm mind, he opens his eyes and covers her left shoulder with his palm. Intention, think with intention. He thinks about the bone, how the marrow sits within the cavity. He thinks about the muscles and the inferior parts of the flesh that make up muscles, cells, and tissues that subsequently form tissue groups. He thinks about the veins and vessels, the red and the blue, the thin nebulous things that they are. He thinks about the outer skin, how it protects and supports. Warmth fills his palm, and he examines his work. A scar less than an inch in length claims the pale skin of her shoulder. There is no incantation for loss of blood—that he knows of or is capable of—so her body will need to heal on its own.
A single tear falls down her check. He wipes it with his thumb, her skin cold. What have I done? Caleb carefully pulls her into his lap and then looks around the empty ballroom. “Where do we go? Where can’t she find us?”
Marcus feels her presence long before he hears the screams. He blinks. The screams lead him to the ballroom. He pushes the double French doors open, noticing an intricate pattern detailing the glass. Where the room should be filled with the competitors, families, and friends, Marcus finds just two.
Premonition Page 11
