Page 13

Thirteen

K amine’s wrists were red and sore. She pulled down her sleeves as she stormed through the halls in an effort to cover the aggressive marks, in case she passed anyone. Kamine knew she wouldn’t be able to stomach dinner. Not now.

Wanting privacy to think, she headed straight for her room while trying her best to avoid anyone who might be lingering in the halls. She didn’t want to come face-to-face with any cohorts, because she had a feeling they would be able to read what had transpired on her face. The whole school would know before she even had a moment to herself, to process what had happened.

Kamine shuddered at the thought, pushing forward.

It’s not that she regretted it—she had wanted it. Badly. But now she wouldn’t be able to look into Professor Grimot’s dark eyes without thinking of what his fingers were capable of.

“Kamine, is it?”

Kamine jumped at the voice that came from the offshoot of a hall to her right. Clicking footsteps approached her, then the figure was illuminated clearly by a low-hanging sconce.

“Yes…” she said, unsure of exactly who she was speaking to.

She had never seen this woman before. She was tall, with long, golden brown hair that hung down in smooth waves. Her black dress barely reached her mid-thigh. It was the cold determination in her eyes that truly made Kamine hesitate.

The woman smiled. “Headmaster Dritoria has spoken so highly of your mother. I couldn’t wait to have a chance to meet you.” She assessed Kamine from her feet, up. “Look at you. You’re a darling.”

“Who are you?” Kamine asked.

“I’m Kestra. Assistant to Headmaster Dritoria.”

Oh , Kamine thought. She didn’t realize that role existed. To be fair, besides that first day and when Grimot publicly apologized to her, Kamine had barely seen the Headmaster at all. The professors seemed to run the place. It made sense, Kamine supposed, that Headmaster Dritoria needed help with her copious duties.

“I’m also the minister to the Weather Gods,” Kestra added as she cocked her head to the right.

“Nice to meet you,” Kamine said with a rush. “I should go.”

“Not so fast,” Kestra said. “I heard you are getting private lessons from Grim.”

Grim? She hadn’t heard anyone use that nickname for Professor Grimot, and she didn’t like the sound of it, if she was being honest.

Kamine nodded. “We’re slowly making headway with my powers.” And she was slowly becoming infatuated with him, too.

“He has always been so great in one-on-one situations. He’s such a master with his gifts.” Kestra said, as if she held a deep secret.

Kamine didn’t understand Kestra’s implication, but she agreed only to end the conversation quickly. Kamine didn’t want to spend another second here with this woman. She needed to lie down and sleep off the last hour. Actually, she would take a long bath first, to rinse away his phantom touch.

“I’m grateful that he’s taking the time to help me.”

Kestra grabbed Kamine’s chin. “Let’s hope that all that hard work pays off in the Undertaking.”

Even sleep wouldn’t grace her with oblivion. A part of Kamine feared that her subconscious would dream of him, of his hands roaming her body, of his body on top of hers as he rolled his hips into her core.

The bad thing about having a roommate was that she couldn’t relieve herself of this lusty fog.

Another part of Kamine couldn’t wipe Kestra’s words from her mind. They hung in her subconscious like bright, red apples hanging from a tree branch. She wanted to yank them down, but they were too far for her to reach.

So Kamine picked up her shoes and tiptoed out of her bedroom, being careful to not wake Zoya up.

After Janina and Zoya arrived back from dinner, Kamine had barely been able to look at them. She busied herself with writing a letter to her father and brother, instead.

Her friends asked her about her lesson, and if she made any additional progress. She did her best to keep a straight face as she told them she was able to move the ground again. Thankfully, they didn’t ask her how she had done it this time. She didn’t even have a lie ready. She was fully prepared to spill out the truth.

Once she leveled her emotions, she would tell her friends what had happened. She needed an outlet. For now though, the secret stuck with her.

With the absence of windows, the hallways looked no different during the day than they did at night. It was always so dark that she needed the lit sconces to make her way through. The energy was different now, though. During the day, she expected to run into someone. Now, she didn’t, which made the dim tunnels all the more ominous.

She had no idea if a library even existed in this place, but it was a school, so it would be remiss of her to not seek one out.

For some reason, the late night air—or perhaps the lack of fresh air—made her think of her parents. How they both walked these halls, too, when they were her age. How even in this gilded cage they had fallen in love. Her father had said the moment he laid eyes on her mother, he knew he would dedicate every moment showing his love to her. Even in her mother’s cathartic state, he held true to that vow.

Kamine was too stressed about the Undertaking to even think of the possibility of pursuing something romantic. At least emotionally. Physically…was apparently a different matter.

“Where are you going?”

Kamine whipped around, her hand on her chest as her heart rate escalated. Her heart calmed when she realized it was just Professor Grimot, but her body tightened underneath her sleeping clothes.

She crossed her arms, taking a hesitant step back. “I’m looking for a library.” Gesturing towards the tunnels, she admitted, “I don’t even know if there is a library.”

“There isn’t.”

She grumbled. “What school doesn’t have a library?”

“At least not one that’s public,” he amended. He hesitated as he stared behind her, refusing to make eye contact. “I have my own personal stash.”

“Is that an invitation, or a way to show off?”

He shrugged. “Both.”

She finally took a moment to study him. He looked disheveled and flustered. His hair was in a haphazard bun, his sleeves rolled up, his buttons undone. Was he also affected by what they had done earlier? Did he regret it?

She had strong feelings about it, too, but regret was not one of them. Desire for more was more like it, though she wasn’t ready to admit that, if he didn’t feel the same.

But this invitation…what did it mean?

“Are you coming?” he asked. His lips pursed into a tight line when he noticed the double meaning.

She pushed up her glasses that had since slipped down her nose. “An opportunity to judge your reading tastes? Of course, I’ll go.”

He grunted, but led her along. He purposefully kept his distance from her, his long strides making it difficult for her to keep up. The way to his room was confusing, and they didn’t pass anything that looked familiar to her. There were so many right turns at one point, she definitely thought that he was toying with her and taking her in circles.

Then, they reached a long hallway. There were no colored lights like the student’s halls had. In fact, beside the one light in the far distance Kamine could barely make out, the hall was dark. A shiver sliced through her as almost complete darkness blanketed them.

A hand touched her shoulder, and Kamine squeaked.

“It’s just me,” Professor Grimot said, flatly.

“Didn’t anyone tell you to not sneak up on people.”

“I wouldn’t call it sneaking when we’re the only two in the hallway, and you know I’m here with you.”

“You never know,” she shot back. “There could be a ghost here with us.”

He scoffed, “I promise there are no ghosts here. I scared them away.”

“How comforting.”

She was grateful that at least they were still comfortable enough with each other to make light-hearted jabs.

“And what about the monster?” She crossed her arms, curious to see how he would respond.

His face turned serious, his jaw tense. “The monster won’t be bothering us.”

She expected a mean jibe back at her for believing in such tales, but he only looked sincere. Kamine didn’t question him further, even though his reaction told her there was more to that response than he was letting on. They continued their way over, the light still so far away. Perhaps the light was an illusion, perhaps they would move forward forever and never reach it.

“Why do you get such a private room?”

He tightened his hands on her shoulder. “Everyone's room here is relatively private.”

“I have to share with a roommate.”

He sucked in a breath. “Right. I hated that.”

She hummed. “I actually like it. Maybe that’s because Zoya knits me blankets to help keep me warm.”

“You wouldn’t believe that she was so warm if you saw her in a classroom. Her refined skills mean that she can weave a storm of small rocks around a person with such precision that she can land one in someone’s mouth, if she tries hard enough.”

Kamine blinked, so unused to having such a civil conversation with him, much less one where he was praising anyone. It was refreshing. It made that fluttering feeling in her stomach grow.

He pushed open the door to his room, and Kamine gasped at the sight before her. The walls were lined with shelves and shelves of books. An endless array of colors and covers. Kamine stepped inside, and trailed her finger down one of the worn spines.

“History?” she asked.

Professor Grimot shrugged. “I like nonfiction.”

“Not me,” she said, her voice shaking with a storm of excitement. “I have always found comfort in fiction. If my own powers didn’t want to work, then at least I could read about fictional characters whose powers did. It almost felt safer than actually trying to get my magic to come out. Less dangerous.”

She didn’t know why she offered that information to him. Maybe it was because he had brought her here, around his prized possessions, ones that revealed a lot about his soul. That’s what books could do. They dug deep into the innermost part of someone, and pulled out pieces of them that they didn’t know existed. Showing Kamine his collection was a vulnerable thing, and she didn’t take that lightly.

When she turned around, his hands were in his pockets as he stared at her. “What?”

He shook his head. “Nothing.”

She wanted to push, but she left it at that. There would be other occasions to hound him for his secrets.

“Do you have a favorite?” she wondered as she gazed at all the titles.

He whistled. “That’s the hardest question you can ask someone.”

“Fine, is there one you would recommend to someone like me?”

He pondered for a moment, looking up and squinting his eyes as if the Gods themselves would procure an answer for him. The warm glow of the room highlighted his strong features. She saw clearly as his throat bobbed, and Kamine had the desire to lick it.

He went to one of the shelves, and scanned the books before pulling one out, and handing it to her.

“ The Tales of Love and Tragedy ?”

“It’s a collection of short stories. They’re based on true events. Someone found a collection of letters, and wrote stories based on the exchanges this couple had. The final story, as you would expect, ends tragically.”

“I don’t think I need more tragedy in my life,” Kamine whispered, more to herself than to him.

“I suppose not, but the love story within this makes the tragedy seem not so tragic.”

She handed the book back to him. “I think I’ll pass for now.”

“You miss her, your mother?”

Kamine nodded, blinking away the sting of tears in her eyes. “Even if the mother I knew wasn’t the one my father fell in love with, or the one that won her Undertaking, she was still my mother. Even if she was changed, that was the only version I knew.” Kamine caught glimpses of what her mother was like before while she was pregnant with Damien, but there was never any strong affection towards Kamine. Just a gentle calmness that Kamine hadn’t witnessed before.

Grimot bit his lip, as if fighting an internal battle. “Come with me.”

Kamine followed him into another room. His bedroom. The bed was made, the wool covers tucked in perfectly, and the pillows fluffed. He kept such order.

He cleared his throat. “This way.”

Kamine’s face heated, but he just gestured to the bust of Buraza on his dresser. In one of the eyes was an amethyst gem.

“Is—” She swallowed. “Is that the Heart?”

The purple glow of the gemstone practically called to Kamine, as if it recognized her. As if they were one and the same. When she was born, and her eyes turned from blue to a deep purple, her father mentioned how she was the heart of his life, like how the amethyst was the Heart of the court.

Grimot's body stiffened beside her, like a haunting thought had passed through him. But before she could blink, his body relaxed again.

“It’s the exact one your mother found to win her Undertaking. The exact one your cohort will fight to find.”

Kamine snorted. “I’m not trying to get to the Heart. I just want to keep my village safe.”

“A noble thing.”

“It’s not my morals,” Kamine conceded with little shame. “I think Roz would tear me to shreds if I tried to steal it from her.”

He chuckled. “I wouldn’t doubt it.”

The soft sound of his breath rocked her. She wanted to hear him laugh again, and she wanted to be the cause of it.

“It’s beautiful,” she said, leaning in to inspect the glimmer of the purple gem. “How did it feel when your hand was on it, and you won?”

“Glorious. Like I was unstoppable. Like the future didn’t matter because that moment was everything.”

“Does it still feel that way?”

“No,” he answered shortly.

Kamine turned to him, but his eyes were on the Heart. His expression was sullen. She dared to take his hand and give it a comforting squeeze.

“I think my mother felt the same. It’s the tale they convince you to believe. That the Undertaking is a game, instead of a fight of survival.”

“A game,” he repeated after her. “One that so many will do unspeakable things to win. Things that they’ll later regret.”

Kamine didn’t know exactly what he meant, but she could guess that he had his own demons when it came to his Undertaking.

“Do you ever wonder,” he started, “if a part of you is holding back your powers because you’re scared of what you’d do with them? That you might have a mental block?”

Kamine had considered that. She feared that if she had the power that her mother had, then she too would rather find the Heart instead of protecting her own.

“Not having control of my powers yet gives me something to focus on,” she said. “I’m competing against myself, not the others.”

“You really are noble,” he responded, voice croaked with emotion.

“Thank you for showing me this,” she said, gesturing to the stone with a smile. “I’ll never forgive the Weather Gods for destroying my mother’s spirit, but I do feel a little closer to her now.”

They were still holding hands, but this time, he was the one who squeezed hers.