Dark Light of Day (13 page)

Copeland narrowed his eyes, apparently mulling over what Ari had said, and then he looked at me. “Ms. Onyx?”

“The doctrine of reasonable restoration can be invoked for the sin of waste,” I said slowly, gathering my thoughts. “But reasonable is defined by the person against whom the waste was committed. For the farmer, the landlord would judge whether Mederi-born new wood was comparable to virgin forest. For the musician, the familial demon would determine when artistic license becomes sinful rebellion.

“For the future Maegester,” I added, forcing my voice to stay clear and strong, “the Demon Council will judge her fate.”

Copeland pursed his lips together and nodded.

“You have a clear grasp of Sin and Sanction, Ms. Onyx. Let us hope that you do as well in your Manipulation class.”

He moved on to someone else and I felt the sweat trickle down between my breasts. I’d heard Copeland’s message on levels both academic and personal because that’s how he’d meant it. Just because I’d declared, didn’t mean I was out of danger.

After class, I headed to Corpus Justica. It was Friday and the only other class we had was A&A in the afternoon. Since I was dropping it, there was no point in going. On Monday, I would start Manipulation with the other Maegesters-in-Training. I was dreading that almost as much as I had dreaded declaring. It was bound to be awful. The only other waning magic users I’d ever had any interaction with were my father (hardly ever saw him), Sasha (couldn’t stand), and Ari (completely conflicted about). And then there was the class itself. Manipulation was supposed to teach Maegesters how to control demons. I could barely control my own magic.

The somber mood of Corpus Justica suited me just fine. The hush and stillness, the solemnity, the sheer gravity and immenseness of the place fell around me as thickly as my winter cloak. Walking through the stacks of the library made
me feel insignificant. It calmed me. Insignificant people could not make significant mistakes.

I chose an empty study carrel as far away from the main entrance as I could get. No one was around so I wasn’t very quiet taking my books out of my bag. Two thumps later there were five collective inches of leather-bound material for me to cozy up with. I draped my cloak over one side of the carrel, sat down, and flipped open my books. We had Oathbreaking on Monday, right after Sin and Sanction. I was determined to master remedies over the weekend. Twenty minutes later I was deep into monetary damages versus specific performance when I felt Ari approach. I say felt because it was impossible to mistake that burning, blistery feeling he gave off now that I was free of Peter’s cloaking spell. I turned around.

Ari was standing a few feet from me, staring.

“I can feel you,” he blurted out.

I frowned.
So? I could feel him too.
It was no secret that those with waning magic could sense one another’s presence.

“It’s different now,” he said. “It’s more acute.”

He seemed to be having trouble talking. Like he wasn’t sure what to say. If I didn’t know his confidence was as high as the heavens that once were, I would have said that he was nervous. I suspected he felt awkward, just like I did.

“Peter cast a cloaking spell over you before you came here, right?”

I hesitated, than nodded. Any evidence of it was long gone. Mention of Peter’s name made me think of the scene in the alley from last night. I felt my cheeks flush. Ari grabbed a chair and pulled it over next to mine.

Why was he sitting down?

Once, we might have been friends—maybe, if things had gone differently. He’d been so easy to talk to on the crossing. But that was
before
. Before, when we were pretending to be Hyrkes, before the lie of St. Luck’s, the Sasha betrayal, and the threat of forced declaration. Before the scene in the alley last night, when Peter voiced all of my most private fears and darkest insecurities right there in front of Ari. It was like
having your clothes ripped off in front of the hottest guy at school. And then having him see that you have this hideous birthmark you’ve been trying to hide. One he knew about but had never really
seen
. I knew I should learn to love the birthmark, but it was hard when it marked me as a destroyer of men—and women and children, gardens and greens.

“I’m glad you declared,” he said.

Of course he was glad. He’d threatened to do it for me.

I hadn’t been this close to him with no one else around since the day of orientation. It was unnerving. Law school had left little time for personal grooming, but with Ari it only added to his attraction. His hair had grown longer since our first meeting. It was as thick as mine, but not nearly as straight or dark. He hadn’t shaved and his chin and cheeks were covered with dark stubble. In the glaring overhead light of Corpus Justica, his eyes appeared rimmed with black, intensely deep. I was afraid to stare into them for too long for fear he would know my thoughts. Despite last night and the unbelievable foolishness of it, I was still hopelessly attracted to him.

I shrugged and looked away. “I didn’t do it because of you.”

“I know,” he said. “It’s better that you did it for yourself.”

Ari wasn’t a large man, but he was tall and powerful looking. He dwarfed the small library chair he was sitting in. He looked down at the floor. It was an odd moment, almost as if he was bowing to me, but then he looked up and there was nothing submissive in his look. It was predatory and very determined. It was a look that sat comfortably on Ari Carmine’s face. I licked my lips and forced myself to be still. Every emotion I had, I wanted to hide from him.
When would he go away?
He was making me feel things that would be difficult to forget.

“Noon, you’re going to need someone to help you catch up.”

“Catch up? I’m doing fine,” I said huffily, leaning back and narrowing my eyes at him. He was the last person I felt like studying with.

“I don’t mean with your regular classes. I mean with Manipulation.
Copeland’s right. The Council is going to be watching you very closely now. I want to help.”

“What’s with you, Ari?” I said, suddenly annoyed. “You think that the performance of every Maegester-in-Training somehow affects you? That somehow your future success as a Maegester becomes less likely if another fails?”

“No—”

I cut him off. “Whether I succeed or fail has nothing to do with you. Stop worrying about me. I’ll either be fine or I won’t,” I snapped, “but it won’t affect you.”

I was prepared to grab my books and leave, but before I could, Ari reached out and put his hands on my knees. The effect of contact was immediate. A blast of desire shot through me and I suddenly wanted Ari’s hands in more intimate places than just my kneecaps. I tried to brush his hands off, but he grabbed mine and leaned toward me.

“Your success or failure has everything to do with me,” he said softly. I scoffed and looked away, but he brought his hand up to my chin and gently turned my face back toward him. “I knew you had waning magic the first time I met you. And I knew we’d meet again, I just didn’t know how soon. I thought you were younger. That you would have more time to figure things out before you had to declare. But then when I realized you were a student here—at St. Luck’s—in my class and still pretending, I knew there was no more time. You had to declare.”

“I know, Ari,” I said, reaching up to remove his hand from my face. “Why are you rehashing the obvious? That’s all yesterday’s news, literally.”

He refused to move his hand and, in fact, reached up with his other so that my face was cupped between them. It was impossible to look away. It would have been a delightful precursor to some very pleasurable academic distractions if I didn’t feel so awkward and embarrassed around him.

“Noon, I would have declared for you, if you hadn’t,” he said, his breath tickling my lips, teasing them.
It was so unfair. Why couldn’t we be two Hyrkes? Why hadn’t I been born a Mederi?

“I couldn’t let you be killed,” he continued, “and not because I know your father or because we could use your magic, and definitely not because your failure to declare would reflect badly on me.” He snorted. “You know full well the reason I don’t want you killed, but you refuse to accept it. You’re still trying to hide,” he murmured and I shivered beneath him. “But I won’t let you.”

He kissed me then and it was unimaginably different than any other time I’d been kissed. I surrendered completely. Despite the awkwardness I felt, this was what I had wanted. I felt like a weak, knobby kneed girl who’d just swooned in her lover’s arms, but Ari’s kiss made me feel deliciously feminine. His mouth came down on mine insistently, his lips soft but firm, his grip quickly moving from my chin to the back of my nape as he tilted my head back to gain greater access. His tongue darted across my lips, an unmistakable question.

Would I yield to him?

I did. What else could I do? I wanted him in the worst way. He assailed me both physically and magically. The skin beneath my demon mark burned, my whole being coursed with heat. Waning magic swirled around us and Ari stood up, pulling me to him.

“I’ve wanted to do this since the first time I saw you,” he said. His voice was gravelly and rough, rumbling deep within his chest. There was an unusual rawness to it. I would have rolled my eyes and made a joke about the bounds of his arrogance being so great that he was determined to have every conceivable sexual experience, even those that bordered on the exotic or bizarre. But there was something eerily serious about his gaze as he looked at me. A joke seemed inappropriate. I settled for an incredulous look.

“Noon, don’t you know how beautiful you are?”

Men had called me beautiful before. But they’d all been Hyrkes, unknowing of my true nature, of what I was really capable of. If they’d only known what was lurking beneath my pretty porcelain shell… My magic flared up, vicious and strong, all soft edges made sharp again, the last few minutes almost forgotten.

“Let me help you,” Ari said gruffly. “Let me teach you how to control your magic.”

“What’s in it for you?”

“You, I hope,” Ari said, meeting my magic with his own. He didn’t try to soften my edges; he just parried them with his own.

“I can’t stop thinking about you, you know,” he said, squeezing me to him. “You
fascinate
me.”

He followed up his declaration with another kiss, this one more scalding than the last, and then dropped me back into my seat, breathless and wanting.

W
hen I left Corpus Justica that night, I saw Waldron Seknecus’ announcement up on the corkboard to the right of the main exit.