Mark of Four (9 page)

“Do some weaving through the cones; I want to see your form.” A half grin covered his face, and Alayne got the feeling that he didn’t necessarily mean her athletic prowess. Heat spread through her cheeks, and she skated to the cones, falling in behind a teammate and crouching into a weave.

After a few minutes, Kyle blew his whistle. “Okay, guys, let’s start out with a scrimmage.” He divided them into two teams. As the players spread out, Alayne enjoyed the way the ice melded with her skates, almost as if the two separate things had become one element; the more she concentrated on the ice, the more comfortable she became. As the scrimmage took off in intensity, Alayne’s skates seemed to gain a mind of their own. One second, she was heading full-tilt toward the puck, and the next, as the puck flashed by her to another person on the other team, her skates did a one hundred and eighty degree rotation, and she was off again.

Alayne found that the less she focused on the ice under her skates, the more confused and wobbly she became. By the end of the scrimmage, she’d pretty well caught on to how it worked.

Kyle blew his whistle to end it. “Great scrimmage, guys. That’s it for now, but next time, we’ll start some strategy plays. Equipment in the box, please.”

The students left the ice one by one. Alayne sat on the wall in front of the team box and pulled off her skates. She glanced over at Kyle, who had stripped off his shirt, sweat gleaming off the smattering of freckles across his chest and shoulders, his well-defined pectoral muscles, and his rock-solid abs. Alayne felt her cheeks go red again. She dropped her skates, helmet, and stick in the box and leaned over to tie her shoes.

When she looked up, Kyle stood in front of her. “You did a great job today, Alayne. You really seemed to be getting the feel of it.”

Alayne nodded. “It felt good—like I was connecting with the ice.”

“Really?” He looked surprised. “You could feel the ice through the skates?”

“You can’t? You’re a Water-Wielder, too, aren’t you?”

“Yeah.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “But my connection’s not as strong as yours, I guess.” He stepped closer and placed a hand on the wall next to Alayne. “Do you have a nickname?” His blue eyes flickered with undeniable interest.

“Um, my parents call me Layne, but that’s it.” Alayne squirmed. The attraction he was showing was too much, too fast, but she was absurdly fascinated by the muscle play in his torso. She tried to keep her gaze away from where his collarbone melted into the swell of his shoulder, but failed dismally.

“Layne. I like it.”

His face was only inches from hers. She thought wildly that he was going to kiss her, and she wondered what she would do if he did. She licked her dry lips, panic twisting through her. His lids drooped over his eyes, a sleepy hint of a smile on his mouth, and slowly, he closed the distance between them.

Alayne still hadn’t decided what she would do, and then she didn’t have to. His lips stopped just short of touching hers. The crunch of a footstep on loose ice-shavings halted abruptly at the rink’s entrance. Kyle stepped backward. Alayne sucked a gasp of air into lungs that she hadn’t realized were empty. Her gaze flew to the door of the rink where Jayme stood. He stared at them, neither smiling nor speaking.

“Uh, hi, Jayme. I—I was just getting ready to head back to the dormitories.” She jumped off the wall, carefully avoiding both boys’ gazes. “I’ll see you there,” she mumbled to no one. She bypassed Jayme and hurried down the corridor to the chute.

“
A
ll he does is
sit around moony-eyed over you, talking about hockey and strategy. Honestly, the guy doesn’t shut up. What you see in him is beyond me,” Marysa said as she and Alayne tried to finish their copious homework assignments in their room over the weekend.

Alayne smiled at the irony of Marysa complaining about Kyle’s talkative propensities. “He just likes to sound out his strategies, get other people’s opinions.”

“Then he should be talking to Jayme. No offense to you, but Jayme’s a hundred times better than you are.”

“Thanks, Marysa. I appreciate the confidence, really. Jayme’s competition, not on the same team. Kyle
can’t
talk to Jayme about it.”

She shifted where she sprawled on her bed, inwardly squirming whenever she thought of Jayme and Kyle in the same sentence. After the awkward moment at the hockey rink, Jayme had fallen into an easy friendship with her, no more, no less. He treated her with respect and affection, giving her brief hugs when they parted company now and then. Alayne was satisfied with this arrangement, so she wondered why she felt so bereft when he let her go. The answer didn’t seem to be an easy one; she put it behind her.

“He may as well,” Marysa grumbled. “He and Jayme are always hanging around you. Jayme can’t help but overhear everything Kyle says.”

It was true. Kyle had taken up almost permanent residence at Alayne’s side. Marysa obviously found this new arrangement annoying. She looked directly into Alayne’s eyes. “Layne. Come on, are you guys really dating?”

Alayne shrugged. “I don’t know , Marysa. He likes me, I might like him, but I don’t know for sure. Honestly, we haven’t gotten far enough along to know what to call it. He—he’s nice,” she finished lamely.

The boys were the least of Alayne’s worries. She couldn’t stop thinking about what Chairman Dorner had told her. What did it mean that she was a Quadriweave? Thus far she’d shown no particular talent for any element but water, though she did continue to outperform the other students if a task involved water-wielding. Even so, she wondered if there had been a big mistake and Dorner had gotten it all wrong.

Marysa snorted, her opinion about the boys written clearly in her body language.

Alayne shook off her friend’s displeasure and buried herself in her studies. The learning curve she had experienced on her first day had gradually evened out. While the initial classes had been relatively simple, study criteria had rapidly progressed into difficult, strenuous exercises that often left Alayne sweating during her practice sessions. She had to work at it now.

O
ne evening
in the crisp autumn, she took the chute to the library. Marysa had decided to study in their room, and Alayne had been almost relieved. She’d grown quite attached to her talkative friend, but it truly was difficult to get any studying done around her.

As the chute doors opened, she turned right and headed along the bookshelves toward the distant back of the library. A row of tables beneath some huge windows had become her favorite place to study. People rarely came by. It was nice and quiet, and the view was incredible. Today, the clouds hung lower in the sky, and the library was high enough on the spire to be above them. Rolling, endless puffs of fluffy whiteness stretched as far as Alayne could see. She wished she could sprout wings and soar above it.

A noise caught her attention. She glanced over her shoulder between two bookshelves. Her eyebrows lifted in surprise.

“Daymon?” She clamped her mouth shut, wishing she could grab back her voice.

He glanced up from his book, his face settling into lines of irritation. “What do you want?”

“I’m s-sorry. I—I was surprised to see you here.” Yet another reason why she enjoyed studying here: Daymon and Cornelia and their kind never touched the place. Until now, apparently. She shrugged and turned back to her book. “Never mind. Just forget I said anything.” She wished she hadn’t called his attention to her; it was better if she could ignore his existence.

Daymon shut his book with a snap. His voice dripped distaste. “Just because you’re suddenly the water-wielding wonder child that every professor has dreamed of doesn’t mean that the rest of us can’t aspire.”

Alayne snorted. “Whatever. If you use that as an excuse not to do well, it’s the lamest one I’ve ever heard.”

“Aren’t you listening? I didn’t give an excuse. I’m right here studying, aren’t I? All I said was that you’re a teachers’ pet, and you can’t deny it. You’ve consistently gotten the highest scores in all our classes, and you pull out a good grade whenever you’re assigned a project. I’ve heard the professors talking in the teachers’ lounge. They think you can do no wrong. Good thing I know better, right?”

“That’s so not true, Daymon. There are a ton of other students—”

“Whatever. That’s not even the issue. You know what the problem is with you, Worth?” Daymon tossed his book onto the floor. “You’re insecure. You don’t trust anyone or anything, and you build a fence around yourself that you hope will keep everyone and everything out. Nobody can find the real you, because you’ve got it hidden so well under a mountain of fake. That’s right. You’re fake.”

Alayne gripped the back of her chair.“
I’m
fake? Have you looked in a mirror lately?”

His blue eyes darkened. His knuckles whitened where his hands balled into fists. Alayne thought he might actually lash out at her.

He released a slow, controlled breath. “If you knew all the people that sacrifice to let you be who you are, you’d think twice before saying that to me.”

Alayne flung her arms into the air. “What, Daymon? What are you talking about? This is the second time you’ve implied that I don’t know something. Why don’t you enlighten me?” She stared at his angry face. “Is this still about Leesha and the way you acted like a scumbag back at Basic School?”

Daymon stood, kicked his book aside, and advanced. One hand grabbed the back of her chair as he lowered his face to her level. The anger in his eyes scorched the air between them.

“This has nothing to do with Leesha.” His breath was hot on her cheek, and he spit the words like weapons. “This has everything to do with you and your family.” A mask shuttered his expression. He pivoted before abruptly facing her again. “Another thing, Worth. If you send your friend, Cross, snooping through my room again, I’m going to make you sorry.”

“I didn’t send—”

“I don’t want to hear it.” Daymon spit to the side, and Alayne flinched. Then he turned and strode past the shelves toward the chute at the front of the library.

Alayne watched him go. What did he mean, that little comment about her family? He barely knew her family. He’d probably seen her parents at some point or other, but he’d never been officially introduced to them. What could his problem be with them? With her? She shook her head hard, wishing she could unsee the hatred in his eyes. Snatching up the book he’d left on the floor, she shoved it back into the gap on the shelf.

Then her hand slowly pulled the book back out. The title was white on a silver background, hard to read in the best of light. In flowing fonts, it read,
The Legend of the Quadriweave.
The secondary title below it read:
The Facts and Fictions of the Vale
. Together, the titles took up the whole cover of the book.

Alayne walked to the table, flipped open the front cover, and began to read.

Alayne shot a glance down the deserted aisle toward the front of the library, her fingers nervously toying with the corner of the page. Why would Daymon Houser, of all people, be reading a book on the history of the Vale?

B
utterflies fluttered
in Alayne’s stomach as she headed toward the gymnasium with Marysa and Jayme on either side of her. She glanced sideways at Jayme. “You nervous?”

He shrugged. “About like normal.”

Marysa poked her head in front of Alayne, glaring at Jayme. “Don’t go acting all confident just because you’ve played on teams before. This is Layne’s first game. She needs your support.”

“I’m fine, Marysa.” Alayne took a deep breath, wishing she hadn’t eaten supper after all.

“You’ll do great, Al.” Jayme used the nickname he’d made up for her. “Remember, when you see me at the goal, just give up. You’re not going to get it by me.” He winked. “In fact, why don’t you head back to the dormitories now? I’ll let you know when it’s all over.”

“You talk big, Mr. Hot-Shot, but just wait. Our team has a few tricks up its sleeve.”

“Where’s Kyle?” Marysa asked.

“He had to get there early to do some set-up.” Alayne always felt uncomfortable talking about Kyle, especially around Jayme. “Oh look, it’s a big crowd tonight.”

The stands around the rink were packed. “They’re here early,” Jayme commented. “It’s going to be awhile before we’re done warming up.”

Marysa shrugged. “Social time, I guess.”

Jayme and Alayne waved goodbye to Marysa as they neared the entrance to the locker rooms. Marysa went to join the crowd on the stands.

“J—Jayme,” Alayne paused and then tried again, “Jayme, did you go through Daymon Houser’s room in the dormitories?”

Jayme’s cheeks flushed. He kicked at the carpet as they walked. “Yes, kinda.”

“What do you mean, kind of? Did you?”

“Yeah, I did.”

Alayne stopped walking and stared at Jayme. “Why?”

Jayme faced her and then dropped his gaze. “It’s a long story, so just hear me out, okay?”

Alayne glanced down the hall at the open locker room door. Kyle would be in there going over his plays and waiting for her. She grabbed Jayme’s sleeve and pulled him into an empty room behind them, shutting the door and turning on the light.

“Go for it.”

“A couple of weeks ago, I was in the locker room showering instead of heading up to the dormitories, ‘cause I had detention, and I was running out of time. Daymon was in there too, along with a few other guys. Brett, one of the Second-Years, noticed this tattoo Daymon has on his back. It’s this symbol, like, a circle with intricate designs all over it. None of us had thought much about it until Daymon made a really big deal out of Brett’s question. Daymon grabbed him by the collar, threw him up against the wall and told him to mind his own business.”

“Charming, as ever.”

Jayme grinned. “Yeah. Anyway, of course, I was curious after that. I wanted to know why he was so touchy about it. My detention happened to be in Chairman Dorner's office. I was dusting off stuff, and I uncovered this book shoved onto a corner shelf beside his fish tank. It was really old—brown with a ripped spine. There was no title on it, just the same symbol as what was on Daymon's back. Dorner had stepped out for a few minutes, and I opened it. Inside the front cover, Daymon's name was scrawled in the upper corner, and then your name was right underneath his.”

Alayne felt the smile slide off her face. “What? Why?”

Jayme shrugged. “I don’t know. I wanted to find out, though. I wanted to sit down and read the book right there, but Dorner was coming back. So I finished my detention with Dorner watching my every move.”

Alayne leaned against the wall, her mind whirling. What connection was there between Daymon and Chairman Dorner? Or for that matter, what was her own connection to either one of them?

Jayme went on. “Anyway, a few nights ago, when I was going to bed, I passed Daymon’s room on the way to mine. He wasn’t there, but when I glanced in, I saw that book sitting on his nightstand. So I went in to look at it.”

“And?”

“And Daymon caught me. He pummeled me good and sent me to bed with a busted lip and a few bruises in some areas that I don’t usually show to the public.”

Alayne’s eyes dropped to his lips. “Oh, Jayme.” She hadn’t noticed the puffiness before. It wasn’t gigantic, but she could see some swelling around the edge of his bottom lip. She reached up to touch it, but he took an almost imperceptible step backward.

“I guess Kyle’s probably wondering where you’re at, right?” He opened the door and turned his easy smile on her.

Alayne flushed and preceded him out the door. “You guys are the favorite to win tonight, you know.”

“That doesn’t mean anything.” Jayme stopped in front of Alayne’s locker room door. “It’s going to be an even competition. You’re better at this than you think you are.” He smiled and hurried down the hall toward his own locker room. More of their teammates appeared in the hall, and Alayne slung her bag securely over her shoulder and entered.

Kyle glanced up. “Hey, Layne.” He put down his clipboard and walked over, pulling her into a hug. “Excited?”

“Nervous.” She pushed back from him and sat on the bench. She pulled her skates from her bag and bent to put them on.

“That’s good. Being nervous will keep you on your toes. Alex, Brianna, hi!” He greeted the next two players to enter the room.

The rest of the team soon arrived and listened as Kyle discussed the plays he had in mind. Alayne tuned him out. The butterflies were making themselves more prominent, and she sincerely hoped that she would be able to keep her supper down.

“Any questions?” Kyle glanced over his team, confidence lighting his face. “Okay, let’s go win our first game.”

The team exited the locker room and headed down the hallway, lining up for entrance onto the ice. Jayme’s team, resplendent in their blue jerseys, walked up beside them and stopped. Jayme grinned at her from behind his goalie’s helmet. “Good luck, Al.”

“You, too.”

The doors swung open, and Alayne skated out onto the ice, curving right, then left, then speeding around the rink beside her teammates, once, twice, three times. Students clustered though the bleachers. Alayne caught sight of Marysa sitting near center ice, three or four rows below some of the professors who lined the top benches.

Kyle called them all together on one side, and they began practicing offensive plays. Alex, their goalie, managed to keep most of the pucks out of the goal, but enough went in to make Kyle look nervous.