A Matter of Fate (13 page)

But now I find myself wanting to maybe give Astrid’s suggestion a try. “You all settled?”

“Yep, thanks for asking.”

“Um . . . where are you from?”

He motions for me to sit down, but I remain standing. “I’ve split the bulk of my life split between Annar and the East Coast.”

“Oh.” It’s weird that he hasn’t put any pictures or personal items up yet. “Do you like it like that?”

He’s confused. “Meaning?”

“Living in Annar. Do you like it there?”

“Sure,” he says. And then, “I live full-time there, now, though. Most Guard do.”

I lean against the dresser. “It’s interesting you’re on both the Council and the Guard. I didn’t know people could do that.”

He gives me a questioning look, like he’s trying to determine if I’m teasing him or not.

I clear my throat. “Do you like one more than the other?”

“I prefer the Guard, to tell you the truth. I have a bit more Guard mentality than a Council one.”

I wipe a finger across the top of the dresser. It’s spotless. My mother can’t bother to take care of me, but damn if she doesn’t ensure there isn’t one speck of dust in the house. “Did you grow up, always knowing about . . . this sort of stuff?”

“Stuff?”

I wave my hand between us. “You know.”

“I really don’t,” he says, brows furrowed.

I look toward the door, even though I know my parents aren’t at home. “I didn’t.”

He scratches at his head. “Chloe, I feel like we’re speaking two different languages here. What are you referring to?”

It’s uncomfortable talking about this with him. More than confusion—I think it’s the entire concept that me, as a Creator, and apparently someone the Magical worlds are looking forward to, knows squat is humiliating.

All I’d heard at the party in Annar the night before was how excited everyone was that I’m coming of age. How they expect great things of me. How they can hardly wait until I hit the ground running.

So many expectations. So many hopes. So much pressure amongst my ignorance that I feel like running.

I can’t look at him when I admit, “I’m talking about the whole being-a-Magical thing.” I sit down next to him. “No one talks to me about it. I don’t know jack about . . . .” He prompts me to finish. “Anything,” I say in a small voice.

“I’m sorry,” Karl says, “but I’m still confused here.”

“Me too. That’s why . . . I need your help.” I square my shoulders and decide, good or bad, I’ve got to take a chance here. So I break down and tell him the truth, of how ignorant I am, of how my parents hoard their information, of how terrified I am, even more so than being attacked, of continuously failing people and their expectations of me.

When I’m done, he doesn’t judge. He doesn’t berate me for asking for help. He doesn’t belittle me for not being someone I’m not. Instead, he agrees to help me. And then we begin to talk.

“What do you know about the University in Annar?”

Karl is driving me to school the next morning. I’d sort of lied and said I’d already promised a friend I’d get there early before I knew about the rules. I’m not sure why I didn’t tell him about meeting Kellan. I suppose it’s because I’m not sure what I’m going to say myself.

I’ve got several choices, all uncomfortable:

1. I’m a Magical, too. Did you know?
   
2. I know your brother and have been in love with him my whole life. Did you know?
   
3. What we did together on Monday was amazing. I feel connected to you more than I do with any other person save your brother. Oh. Did I tell you about your brother?
   

“Not much,” I admit to Karl. It’s easier to talk about this than my love life. “Just that I have to go there in the fall.”

“In some ways, it’s like a traditional college. You’ll go to classes, have professors, assignments. Only, you don’t get to pick your schedule. Based on your craft, the U picks your classes for you. Puts you on a track that will help cultivate the knowledge base you need to put your skills to good use in the field.”

“Let me get this straight,” I say as he breaks at a stop sign. “I don’t get to pick my job. I don’t get to pick my college. I don’t get to even pick my classes. It’s all done for me?”

Karl’s smile is rueful. “You have the choice whether or not to complete the assignments.”

“And if I fail?”

He snorts. “No one fails at the U. It’s just not done.”

“Someone must fail,” I insist. “Not all Magicals can be geniuses. There have to be a fair share of dumb bricks out there, too.”

His second snort indicates he’s trying hard not to laugh. “Intelligence isn’t a requirement to be a Magical, that much is true. I suppose the U is more for practicality’s sake. You learn what you can so you can be successful. Failure in the field is looked down upon and may have consequences.”

“Like jail? Is there a Magical jail?”

“Yes, but that’s not what I mean. The Council doesn’t accept failure. If you do so, you can get censured.”

“So, you do badly and they . . . what? Call you names? Slap you on the wrist?”

We pull into the parking lot. “You don’t have to worry about that, Chloe.”

“Why not?”

“You’re a Creator. You’ll get a free pass.”

I stare at him as he parks. “You mean, I can screw up and nobody will hold me accountable?”

“No. I didn’t say that. What I said is, as first tier, there aren’t a lot of people who will have the power to rebuke you.”

I rub at my eyes. “Can I at least trust that you’ll always rebuke me when necessary?”

He laughs for the first time since we’ve met. “Sure.”

Kellan is waiting for me on a bench partially shielded by a large tree. He’s reading a book, but notices me when I get within ten feet. At the same moment he realizes I’m nearby, there’s this weird tugging sensation in the pit of my stomach, the same pull I’d felt around him a few days ago.

I still don’t know which discussion option to choose.

This morning, when I woke up, I came to the conclusion that everything that happened with him must’ve been a fluke. My mind had been playing tricks on me, pretending on some level that Kellan had been Jonah.

But the closer I get to Kellan, the hotter my cheeks burn. The more my insides flip and twist in agonizingly yummy ways.

He stands up when I reach him, a half-smile forming charmingly on his lips. The butterflies in my stomach explode into a full-fledged frenzy. Like he can sense this, his smile turns radiant.

“Hi,” we say at the same time. My mouth is so dry I end up licking my lips. He watches this, of course.

“Thanks for meeting me so early,” I say. It comes out like a breathy giggle a femme fatal might use. So, so awful.

“Is everything okay?”

I’m so anxious, it’s ridiculous. “Sure. Um . . . .”

“You’re nervous,” he says, reaching out to touch my face. I go lightheaded. “You don’t need to be nervous around me.” His fingers slide against my cheek after tucking a strand of hair back, and it takes every last brain cell to attempt to focus on the task at hand. After all, it’s a little hard to try to have a rational conversation when all you want to do is lose yourself in someone.

“I . . . uh . . . want to talk to you about something.”

“Good or bad?”

Telling him about Jonah would be . . . bad? Telling him I’m a Magical, too, would be . . . good?

Start with the good. Definitely.

“I was absent for the last two days because I took a trip.”

His half-smile quirks. Damn, it’s attractive. “You want to talk about your trip?”

I nod.

His hand drops to mine and tugs me towards the bench. “I thought you said you don’t travel.”

He actually listened to me? “I don’t. Not normally. This was the first time I’ve gotten to go to this particular place.” And then, practically whispering, “And . . . you’ve been there, too.”

He thinks about this for a moment. “I’ve been a lot of places.”

A quick glance around shows a group of girls standing roughly fifty feet away, but they’re gossiping so loudly I doubt they’d ever be able to hear anything I have to say. “I saw your dad there.”

He stares at me for a long moment. Then he stands up, scratches his forehead and stares some more. After what feels like forever, he leans forward and cups my face with his hands. “Your last name is Lilywhite.”

And here I was, feeling lame that Cora had to practically smash a brick over my head to get me to figure out the whole last name thing. Kellan hadn’t gotten it, either!

“I can’t believe that went right by me,” he grins, something between awe and surprise in his voice.

I match his grin. “I didn’t figure it out myself until Tuesday.”

“In Annar,” he clarifies, and a zing races through me. He knows now. He knows about me, he knows about Annar.

“So, what are you?”

I’m a bit drunk on giddiness right now, so I showboat a bit by holding out my palm. Kellan peers down at it, but then I close my fist. When I open it, there is a tiny Karnach snow globe.

I sneak a peek at Kellan to see what he’s thinking. His face is totally calm, as if there’s nothing in my hand at all.

Unnerved, I smack my hands together and the snow globe disappears. I try to shrug it off with feigned nonchalance. “I’m a—”

“Creator,” he finishes for me. My eyes fly back up to his face. He’s smiling again. “We knew that there was one our age floating around, but . . . wow.”

Terribly pleased that he seems impressed, I ask, “You’ve heard of me?”

“Well, not specifically
you
, no. No one ever mentioned a name, or that the Creator was going to be this gorgeous, sexy girl, just that there was one getting ready to Ascend shortly.” Man, does he know the right things to say. “Had I known who you really were . . . .”

“What would you have done?” I ask, eager for him to finish his sentence.

“Maybe have gone to Annar to see you these last two days?”

Good gods, he is too charming for words. I grin like a fool. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he admits, moving closer.

Logic flees me. I know I ought to tell him the truth, right here and now, about me and his brother, but inexplicably, what I want to do instead is feel his lips on mine once more. In a sultry voice that doesn’t resemble my own, I murmur, “I wish you had.” And then I place my hands against his chest. There’s no softness below my fingers, just hard, lean muscles and warmth seeping through his shirt. He feels amazing.

What are you DOING?
the little voice barks.
Are you mad? This is Jonah’s BROTHER!

My hands fall back to my sides and I take a step back. Attempting to sound flirty rather than shaken, I smile and ask, “What about you?”

Kellan blinks a few times, as if he’d just snapped out of a trance. “Me?”

Do I affect him just as much as he affects me? I point at him, rather than touch this time. “Your craft?”

He blinks one last time and his whole demeanor shifts back into a casual stance. “We’re Emotionals, both me and Jonah.”

“Emotionals,” I murmur, and then go still, staring at him with wide eyes. Oh. My. GODS. “Does this mean . . . have you ever done anything . . . ?”

“No,” he says quickly. “I’ve always made it a policy to never use my craft on people I want to be around without permission. I certainly don’t want to ever question why a person is with me, if you catch my drift.”

I wrack my mind for what I know about Emotionals. They are able to make anyone feel anything they want, whenever they want. They also—–OH NO. “Are you able to . . . know what I’m . . . feeling . . . ?”

He manages to look both amused and guilty when he nods, because Emotionals can pick out the smallest, most nuanced emotions in every single person within their vicinity. They don’t need to surge to get an idea of what a person’s up to. They can sense it without even needing to look.

Horrified, I take another step back, which he counters with a step forward. “Don’t be embarrassed.”

“You . . . you’ve known this whole time . . . how I
feel
around you?”

“Yes,” he says, trying to grab my hand. But I evade, so embarrassed I want to die. “Chloe, wait.”

“You
know
?”

“Yes.” He catches my hand. “It’s a good thing, C. Knowing how you feel is . . . it’s amazing. A gift. So wonderful it nearly blows my mind.”

“Embarrassing,” I whisper.

“No,” he insists, tugging me closer. “Wonderful.” And then, with his lips pressed up against my ear, “Just because you can’t sense it, doesn’t mean I’m not feeling all of these very same things, too.”

I pull away so I can look into his eyes. I don’t know why, but I’m surprised to see how sincere they are. How much he already cares for me, too.

“So . . . you’ve never worked, what, your mojo? On me?”

He shakes his head solemnly.

“Do you use it here at school?”

Squeezing my hand reassuringly, he says, “Sometimes. If warranted.”

“And . . . your brother?” My heart stumbles at the mere thought of Jonah.

Kellan studies me for a long moment, our hands still clasped, before he says, “Jonah has the same policy as me when it comes to people he wants to be around. Although, he . . . .”

The stumbling worsens. The suspense is killing me. “He what?”

“He did something for you. On Monday. The attendance clerk was pissing us both off, yelling at you like that. He made her give you a pass. She wasn’t going to, you know.”

You wanted Jonah to stand up for you, to help, right?
the little voice murmurs.
Well, he
did
. Maybe now you’ll start focusing on him rather than Kellan. Where is Jonah, anyway? Why aren’t you finding this out?

I clear my throat, but before I can ask Kellan, he says, “I knew there had to be a reason I’m so attracted to you, why you’ve become all I can really focus on. These last few days were pretty tough—I have to admit, I think I failed a test in physics because I was daydreaming about you.”

A flower blooms inside my chest. No, an entire garden of lovely, precious feelings forms. I am lightheaded, deliriously happy.

And he knows it, because his gorgeous smile mirrors the sun before he kisses me.