by Olivia Ash
“That would be lovely, Headmaster Storm,” Aunt Patricia says. “However, I don’t need an escort. I can find my way on my own. I do remember the halls quite well.”
“I’m sure.” Gideon rises from his seat. He reaches into a drawer and pulls out a key. “Here is the key to your room. Normally we wouldn’t allow students in the faculty wing, but this is a special occasion, so I will allow Wren to visit you there for sake of privacy.”
I nod. “I appreciate it.”
Aunt Patricia and I stand from our seats as well. We follow him to the door. She moves with such grace that it’s almost demeaning. I feel like a troll walking next to her. However, she seems oblivious to the difference in our gaits. Either that, or she doesn’t outrightly draw attention to it.
Gideon opens the door and escorts us out. He steps out with us, and the door becomes hidden once more by a moving image of a wolf howling at a large full moon. It hangs in a midnight blue sky sprinkled with a dusting of glittering silver.
Gideon’s voice draws me back into the present. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Miss Blackwood. If you need anything at all to make your stay here more comfortable, don’t hesitate to ask.”
She inclines her head in acknowledgement. “I am sure everything will be just fine. Wren, dear, I will see you this evening.”
“Yes, I can’t wait.” I watch her turn and walk off.
Gideon faces me, pulling my attention to him. “My… sources told me about the mishap in your runes class.”
I drop my gaze to the floor. Of course, he’d have a way of knowing when magic got out of hand in his school. Using a bent finger, he lifts my chin so that I meet his amazing blue-green eyes. “I’ll have to share with you some of my more embarrassing mishaps when I was a student here.” He chuckles.
“The great Gideon Storm made mistakes? Say it isn’t so.” I smile.
He smirks. “Oh yes. But that is, sometimes, one of the best ways to learn.”
I nod. “Thank you again for letting me see her before class was out.”
He shrugs. “You probably needed a way out of there anyway.”
I laugh. “I really did.”
After looking down the hall, which is now empty, he rests his hand on my upper arm, warming my skin with his touch. He levels his gaze on me, and I can already tell what he is about to say next is important.
“I’m glad you are happy about reconnecting with your aunt, but I would appreciate if you didn’t tell Patricia about your father.”
My eyebrows knit together. “Why? He’s her brother. Wouldn’t she have a right to know?”
“Yes, but it could put her in danger. And the less people who know about Michael, the better.”
I narrow my eyes. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“Nothing, yet.” He slides his hand from my arm down my side and along my waist, and I nearly melt into a puddle. Every nerve is on high alert, and I’m quickly starting to imagine doing very naughty things with him. His green eyes take hold of mine and I almost become lost in his gaze. “Something else that’s bothering me is that I can’t get a good read on her. She’s protecting herself with wards or enchanted rings.”
“You read my aunt?” I try to quell the irritation in my voice, but it’s hard to. She’s my blood. My father’s sister. Why would Gideon be suspicious of her?
He must’ve detected the unspoken question by looking at me. “Wren, all guests of Blackbriar know they are safe, and their privacy is respected when they step onto the island. If she’s still warding herself, that’s going to raise an eyebrow or two.”
“Well she just came from the outside world, maybe she forgot to… turn it off.”
He gives me a thoughtful look and nods. “She did arrive in a hurry to meet you. Perhaps I’m just being overly cautious. You’ll have to forgive my need to protect you. We can tell her once we’re certain it’s safe to. Please. Do this as a favor to me.” His eyes shift toward my mouth, and he steps a little closer.
I chuckle. “You’re devious. You know that?”
He laughs under his breath. “I’ll make it up to you. Promise.”
“Oh, you had better. I’m gonna hold you to that promise too.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He kisses my forehead. “Better get to class, Miss Blackwood. Tardiness is frowned upon in this establishment.”
“Mm hmm.” I pull away from him despite everything inside me screaming at me not to let go. Like he said, I have class.
I make my way down the hall, mind buzzing with thoughts of us wrapped in each other. Once I turn the corner, a bell chimes through the halls, signaling the end of the first class. I take a deep breath to clear my head.
That man is going to make me implode with lust someday.
Chapter Six
Dressed in a conservative outfit consisting of a navy-blue pencil skirt and silver silk blouse, I head to my aunt’s room for dinner. My hair is pulled into a tight bun, and my makeup is natural looking and makes my brown eyes stand out more. I tuck a lose strand of hair behind my ear as I take a deep breath, letting out slowly.
My nerves are a mess of excitement and anxiety. My heart is pounding so hard that it feels like it is about to flutter right out of my chest. I tug on my pencil skirt as I walk down the hallway leading to the faculty suites. I barely glance at the magical paintings dotting the walls or the scenery outside the windows as I nervously move toward the only family I have here. The heels of my black shoes clack against the stone floors as I move, echoing down the hall and likely announcing my arrival before I even make it to the door.
The faculty section of the castle is like an apartment building with old stone walls on the bottom half and deep burgundy paint on the upper half. Domed glass ceilings top the walls, allowing for the ambience of the setting sun to cast shadows along the wide hall and make the statues that stand guard ever so often, feel like they move.
The statues are probably moving to watch me. But I don’t waste time on trying to figure the ins and outs of it all. I’m more concerned with making a good impression. I want my time with my aunt to go well, and after going so long without seeing her, except for the short time earlier today, I don’t know what to expect.
I wipe my sweaty palms on my skirt and adjust my blouse. It’s uncomfortable being so dressed up after years of wearing tattered rags. Savannah helped me with my hair and makeup, which made me realize how much I’ve missed out on. But she made it a fun, girly experience. We laughed and talked about cute guys at the school as she brushed on a bit of blush, and I made sure to stay still when she applied lipstick. I refused to plop on false lashes and settled for mascara, and beamed with pride when she told me I looked stunning. It feels good to have a friend to bond with like that.
I dressed like this at my aunt’s request, per the note that was left on my bed when I got back from my last class. Though I prefer a t-shirt and jeans to even the school’s uniform, I’m dealing. I figure making a few concessions, even if it’s uncomfortable and doesn’t fit who I am, probably wouldn’t hurt. Especially if it will help my aunt reconnect with me. Besides my father, she’s the only family I have. And that means something to me.
I finally make it to the door and tap my knuckles on the hard, mahogany wood. Moments later, the door opens, revealing an opulent sitting room with lavish furnishings and expensive, ivory satin curtains covering the windows that are open to allow the cool fall breeze through the room. A small fire pops in the fireplace from the far-left wall. Two doors stand on either side of the fire, and to my right is an open kitchen with a hall that ends at another door.
I walk toward the beige and white striped sofa, accompanied by a matching love seat and two ivory high-back chairs. I take a seat, sinking into the cushions. But I don’t have to wait long before my aunt enters the room with a long black trumpet skirt, matching blouse, and red shawl draped over her shoulders.
“You have arrived on time.” Aunt Patricia’s eyes study my appearance. “I see you got m
y note.”
“Yes. Is this okay?”
She softly sighs. “It will do. Come, let’s sit at the table.”
I stand from the couch and make my way to the ornate dining table. Its fabric-covered ivory seats shine like satin in the low candlelight that fills the area. It all looks very cozy and intimate, and I can’t help but wonder if my aunt isn’t trying too hard to keep up appearances. Like a show. I get that she’s rich, but this feels a bit forced.
I take the seat directly across from her, and within moments place settings appear before us along with plates of delicious food. A roast with seasoned potatoes, carrots, onions, and celery are all situated in the center of the table. I breathe in deep all of the mouthwatering aromas.
“Tell me, now that your first day is behind you, what do you think of your courses so far?” Aunt Patricia spoons lumps of vegetables onto her plate followed by a chunk of roast.
I watch her move with grace and confidence. She’s such a conundrum. Figuring her out is a difficult task. “It’s interesting and challenging.”
“Are you enjoying yourself here?” she asks as I start to serve myself, picking up the extravagant silver serving spoon, lumping a few vegetables onto my own plate.
“Yes. Very much so.” Good grief this conversation is stiff and uncomfortable. The statues in the hall have more personality and warmth than this.
“That is good.”
I study my aunt for a moment. Her silver-white hair is pulled back into a fancy bun. Extravagant crystal earrings catch the light around her, creating prisms of reds and gold, yet her brown eyes are cold and her face is stern.
“I’m very happy for the opportunity to attend here. It’s more than I ever hoped for.”
“I’m sure it is, given your history and situation.”
I narrow my eyes and clench my jaw. Sure, I’m a half-breed, and I spent years as a captive of trolls, but I managed to escape. Now I’m here, and I’m ready to become a full member of this community. Why can’t she see that? I wonder if my past bothers her that much and if she is ashamed. I recall a few conversations with my aunt when I was in her care. One that sticks out the most is a formal list of expectations and rules that I was to abide by while living in her home. It looks like she hasn’t changed.
I clear my throat and reach for my drink. “True.”
“I’m sure you have questions about what happened?”
It came off like a question, but with the way she looked at me with a stone-like stare, I don’t believe it was an invitation to start asking them. “A few.”
“Ask away.” She cuts a chunk of potato and pops it into her mouth in an elegant, smooth motion.
I feel so out of place right now. Everything about this woman is so posh and high class. After living with trolls for the past six years of my life, eating as delicately as my aunt is probably not going to happen. I’m probably going to dribble gravy down my blouse before the night is over.
I push that thought to the side and dig into my questions. “How long did you look for me before giving up?”
She sets her stone-like gaze on me as she finishes chewing. Once she swallows, she takes a sip of her wine. “I never really stopped looking for you, my dear.”
“Never?” My heart skips a beat at that. From what I knew, which isn’t much, no one searched for me. At least nowhere close to the troll village.
“No. I always hoped that if I did not find you first, that you would someday come looking for me. I always knew you were alive. I felt it deep down.” Her brown eyes hold mine as she speaks. When she is finished, she spears a carrot and places it in her mouth.
“What do you remember from that night?”
She chews on the carrot for a moment. “I was curious about that very thing.”
I wait for her to continue as she cuts into her meat, but as she pierces me with her eyes and very slightly raises her eyebrows, I realize she wants me to answer the question first.
“Oh. Um… not much, really. Just going to sleep in my bed and waking up in the troll village. I was dizzy, groggy, and I couldn’t focus on much for a few hours after I woke up.”
She frowns. “It sounds like you had a bit of a concussion. Trolls are vicious, but they are awfully stupid. No doubt that gave you an advantage. Things turned out well enough though, right?”
I shrug. “I guess so. I mean, now things are better. A lot better.”
She taps a finger on her chin. “Let’s see. What do I remember about that night? Ah, yes. Well, after we said our goodnights, I went to bed. Didn’t hear a sound the whole night. When I woke up, I went to wake you up for breakfast. But you were gone.”
“You really had no idea where I was that whole time?”
“Why in the world would you ask that?” Her eyes widen, and the light within her eyes brightens the woodsy brown to a more honey color.
I gape at my aunt, no words coming to mind. I snap my mouth closed with an almost audible crack.
“If I had known, I would have brought you back without a moment’s hesitation.” She trails off for a moment. “I suppose I should admit that part of me wondered if you were just unhappy with coming to live with me. I had assumed, incorrectly, you ran away. Yet, as the weeks passed, I began to suspect that what happened to your parents happened to you. But I never stopped looking. Not once. I always felt in my heart you were alive and well.” She sits back and narrows her brown eyes on me. “Or as well as you could be, considering your plight with the trolls.”
I nod. Partly because I don’t know what to say in response to that and partly because this conversation feels… cold, rehearsed. Not what I would think a warm, genuine conversation would be like. Nothing compared to what I expected from the only family I have left besides my father. But until we have confirmation that he is still alive, I can’t get my hopes up. And after living with the trolls for so long, this is my best shot at having some semblance of family back.
“What do you know about my parents? In terms of what happened with them, I mean.” Right now, I have forgotten all about the delicious food sitting on my plate. I’m too curious to finally have my questions answered and having a real conversation with Aunt Patricia.
“I don’t know more than you do, I’m sure.” She glances at my plate and points at it with her fork. “Eat your food.”
Figures I wouldn’t be able to pry any information on my parents from my dinner-by- the-rules aunt. Sighing, I dig in. My stomach growls in thanks, and I realize I hadn’t eaten much of anything all day long. I cram the food in as fast as I can, without choking to death or breaking any of the table rules I recall from my life before the trolls, which strikes me as something that would upset my aunt.
I can satisfy her request to eat now and leave the rest of the conversation for after dinner.
Once we finish eating, we move to the sitting room. Surprisingly, I didn’t dribble gravy on my blouse. Not a drop of food stains the sleek silver cloth. I check that off as a mark under victory and take up the loveseat while my aunt sits on the sofa.
“What is it you do?” I clutch a beige, crocheted throw pillow to my chest and lean back into the corner, facing my aunt.
“For work?”
I nod.
“I am an ambassador. I pretty much go and mediate conflicts between mages that hold office in various governments.”
I nod. “That sounds like an interesting position.”
“It’s a necessary evil. I daresay some of the mages are as savage as trolls.” She heaves a heavy sigh as she shakes her head. “Especially during mediations.”
I giggle at the thought of her regal figure, with outstretched hands, trying to separate seething mages on the brink of conflict. “Oh, I can imagine.”
Trolls’ egos are as big as the Earth is round. Needless to say, when one feels wronged, it’s a showdown. Literally. Sometimes, they even fight to the death just to prove themselves right. I often wondered, during my time with them, just how much damage a forest could withstand
during the many disputes I’ve witnessed.
I’m glad I get to see this side of my aunt. I feel like it’s a rare glimpse beyond the hardened shell she usually shows anyone.
She adjusts her shawl around her shoulders and repositions on the sofa, seeming much more at ease. “Have you thought about what you would like to do when you leave here?”
I pick at a loose string on the throw pillow in my lap as I shake my head. “I haven’t thought much about anything other than passing the trials. And now, all I can concentrate on are my classes. The future after Blackbriar hasn’t really crossed my mind.” I shrug my shoulders.
“You should think about it and have a plan. This way, when you graduate, you are prepared.”
I nod.
“What do you plan to do on breaks?”
“Can I come and stay with you?” I meet her gaze.
There’s that half-hearted smile again. It’s too fake. Not a single grin she has flashed me has made it to her eyes. Her actions are starting to unsettle me. Maybe my memory of my aunt was contrived through many sleepless nights, lying on the cold hard ground, painting pictures in my head that were better than the life I actually lived. I thought for a moment I broke through the icy interior of my aunt. Now, it seems like we are back at square one.
“That would be lovely,” she finally says. “Of course, you realize that I am not home all the time, so your visits will have to coincide with my schedule.”
“Of course.” I’m not sure what to think of her answer. Is that a yes, a no, or a maybe? She gives me no idea of what she means with that answer. I’m clueless, seriously, clueless.
Then again, Aunt Patricia has seemed overly guarded since I first met with her in Gideon’s office and then again tonight during our dinner. Her answers to my questions all seem rehearsed. My memories of my aunt are clouded and faint, though I dig deep and try to recall if there had ever been any tender moments between us. Or, maybe there were those loving times and I just can’t remember specific instances?
