Page 35 of Cerulean Truth (Sapere #1)

SEVENTEEN

EMMA

Day one: The Winter Palace

As I stumbled along behind Enya, her resolute stride guided me through yet another maze of hallways, reducing my orientation on day one to a big fat zero.

"So, second cycler?" I attempted some small talk. "Does that mean you're, like, two hundred years old?"

"I was born about a hundred thirty-two years ago." She marched forward, showing no signs of slowing down. "In physical years though, I’m twenty-eight."

We stepped onto an intricately patterned marble floor, the echo of our footsteps bouncing off the stone walls.

"Here we are," she pronounced, and swung open a small door, revealing a round tower-like room.

The space inside was nothing short of lovely—warm wooden furniture, gleaming hardwood floors, pristine white walls, and a soft, inviting glow from the lighting.

I took it all in for a moment, and was relieved to find my three hefty suitcases at the foot of the bed, patiently awaiting their unpacking.

"You’re probably exhausted," Enya remarked, her tone still sharp. "Freshen up a bit, and I’ll pick you up in an hour. I’ll show you around Winter Palace today, but I have other things to do than to be your personal tour guide so after that, you’re on your own" she said harshly.

I nodded, holding back the desire to salute her. There was no way to know how she’d take it and making enemies on day one did seem a little ambitious, even for me.

Without another word, Enya exited the room, closing the door behind her.

I let out a weary sigh and dropped my handbag before sinking to the floor, drained by the day’s events.

After a few minutes with my eyes closed, I scanned the room and was pleased to find there was a double bed, a spacious desk, a huge closet which dwarfed any I’d ever seen before, and another door, leading to a small washroom with a toilet and sink but no shower.

Wishing for a touch of normalcy, I reached for my cell phone, eager to call my parents, only to find it not working.

At all. All I had was a black screen. I recalled James’s peculiar device.

What was it called? I furrowed my brow, racking my memory.

"Nexus!" I nearly shouted, relieved I had retained some information.

I needed to get a Nexus as soon as possible.

Rising from the floor, I decided to freshen up and began hanging my clothes in the closet. Enya re-entered the room as I continued to arrange my clothes. She cast a brief glance at my suitcases and said, "You can simply translate them into your closet if you want."

I nodded, not really feeling the need to explain I could only project when my life was in danger.

True, the closet did feel a bit ominous but I was hardly in any life or death situation.

Plus, James had instructed me to keep my mouth shut when it came to my translation, so that’s exactly what I would do.

His current asshole-ness notwithstanding.

“Okay, let’s go then,” she urged impatiently. I followed her out of my room, closing the door behind me. We'd ventured a few feet when she decided to grace me with her wisdom.

"Behold, the majestic bathroom of this fine floor,” she announced. Unless seven showers in a row were to be considered “majestic,” I was catching her sarcastic drift.

“There are fourteen other souls trapped here with us,” she continued.

“Prepare yourself for a symphony of grossness, as our fellow gentlemen like to embrace their inner Neanderthal. But fear not, for we are graced with the divine decree to make them magically scrub away their disgusting debris once they’re done. "

I nodded, this was not all that different from what I considered to be “normal”.

“As you might have figured already, you have four sections in the Universitas,” Enya explained.

“We find ourselves currently in the Winter Palace, our living-quarters.

A place where the architects had a stroke of genius, deciding levels five through ten should be reserved for dorms and bathrooms. Just like your regular five-star hotel, really. "

I nodded in mock awe, pretending this was indeed a revelation for the ages.

We started ascending a staircase and Enya continued, “Apart from dorms and bathrooms, levels eleven and twelve contain personal training rooms. Normally, students up to sixteen years old use the ones in the Scola, and those over sixteen utilize the training rooms in the Academy.

However, we keep two levels of training rooms here for recreational use. "

“Like a personal gym?” I inquired.

Enya squinted for a moment, then slowly nodded. “I guess.”

We walked past some of these training rooms on level eleven but I couldn’t make out anything special about them. They were the epitome of minimalism: empty rooms, white colored walls, no equipment, nothing which would indicate any training at all.

"You've got a few transportation options for these amazing levels," Enya explained, her delivery drier than a desert during a drought.

"Portals, flying, or the good old-fashioned exercise of walking up the staircases.

We've got stairs leading up to every floor for those fitness enthusiasts among us. "

I bit my lip, trying to keep myself from uttering a sarcastic retort. Exercise? How positively barbaric.

"Now, on levels thirteen and fourteen, we have the in-house restaurants and, for some inexplicable reason, an Irish pub. They’re all…themed…” she continued, her tone betraying her disdain. Clearly, she wasn’t big on themed restaurants.

“What do you mean themed?” I asked, fighting a smile. I was starting to enjoy Enya’s grumpiness.

“You have your regular French food pretentious crap; there’s a lean, green, tofu and bean cuisine on thirteen, that’s stinking up the entire Palace…”

I stifled a laugh.

"And foreign cuisines on fourteen," she finished, her nose almost audibly upturned. "But if you value your life, ask someone else to be your culinary tour guide."

I smirked. Enya and her grumpy sarcasm were really growing on me—though I liked foreign cuisine and even the mean green thing didn’t sound too bad.

As we walked back downstairs, she added, “There's an indoor swimming pool on the highest level, level fifteen. Feel free to check it out in your own time. It's a pool, you know, like those human ones, but it does change form to accommodate your swimming needs, whatever those may be."

What? A form-fitting pool? What the…

“That’s as high as you’re allowed to go. There’s a level sixteen but that one’s reserved for a more…important person. Or so he believes himself to be.”

“I don’t understand.” I frowned.

Enya sighed impatiently. Well excuse me for asking .

"The sixteenth floor is a loft, occupying the entire floor, reserved for our First Offensive. The guy you spotted at the Grand Hall, surrounded by his usual entourage?" she continued.

I shot her a dark look. "You mean mister arrogant who thinks the world revolves around him and his boy band?" I replied with an edge to my tone, still upset at James for ignoring me.

She nodded. "Yes, exactly. He's our First Offensive, essentially the one who keeps them all in line. Which is neither easy nor unnecessary, I’ll give him that.

Anyway, he saved a high-ranking idiot from something, and now he's being groomed for Leadership here at Cyclos, even though he's still in his first cycle. "

I frowned again; what?

"I'm sorry, I don't know what that means... Being groomed for Leadership?"

Enya rolled her eyes again with her lovely talent for patience. "Right, well, I won't bore you with the whole political structure of our world, but every three hundred years, each Collective changes Leadership. It's like a president but..."

I grabbed her sleeve, my eyes widening in shock. "James is going to be the Leader of all there magi in there US?" I gasped, abandoning all decorum.

"I'm going to venture a small guess and say you know James Walker personally?" she replied rather dryly.

I swallowed, not particularly eager to admit to Enya that I was developing a (purely physical) crush on her future president.

"We've met," I muttered, avoiding eye contact.

"Ah... well, as I mentioned, James Walker is a first-cycler, around his thirtieth Earth-year, I think," she continued, "But he's now on the fast track for Leadership, considering his innate abilities."

Of course he is.

"So, him being trained as a Leader at thirty is..." I hinted.

"Extremely rare, yes. You'll notice his humility has adapted to that notion equally well," she added wryly. I knew right then and there her and I would become friends.

She turned to me, casting me a watchful gaze. "Be careful of him though. He's... not someone you'd want to cross."

I blinked. "What do you mean?"

She bit her lip. "It means he won't hesitate to kill you if you get in his way."

I laughed, but Enya's expression remained serious. Surely she was being overly dramatic?

She pivoted again and descended the stairs.

I had so many questions. What exactly were these Offensives, anyway?

I ran after Enya and pulled her sleeve again but before I could even utter a single word, Enya silenced my curiosity with one dark glare.

I swallowed hard, released her sleeve and realized I would have to find someone else to ask.

Enya darted down the stairs, taking two steps at a time.

I hurried after her, like a toddler after its favorite teacher.

“Levels one and two are also for food and drinks” she shouted from below, her voice echoing up the stairwell, “but are more personal. There are a few kitchens you are welcome to use, though only use the one assigned to your section. I’ll get you a map for now but walk it a few times and you’ll get the hang of it. ”

I was starting to pant, struggling to keep up with her pace.