Oriana's Eyes (13 page)

 CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Dorian turns from me to pull something from his pocket.

“Your mother’s journal,” I remark as he weighs it in his hand.

“I used to read it every day, hoping that maybe I could get to know her better,” he explains. He smoothes the binding. “I even tore out my favorite pages to keep hidden. They were about the better times, the happiness. What’s left in here”—he waves the book at me—“are the worst memories. I didn’t want to look at it anymore, but I couldn’t just dispose of it. So Tor kept it in the private library, never to be touched again.”

“I’m sorry. If I’d known, I would never have …”

“I know, you don’t have to explain.” He tosses the book onto the bed. “I wish I could just forget about it! But every time I’m reminded of my parents, I want to make Odon pay for what he did!” He clenches his fists; his body shuddering.

I place my hand on his back to console him, and his shoulders sag under a heavy weight. Whatever Odon did to them must have been truly terrible for Dorian to feel so much anger. I decide not to ask for the details. Instead I ask, “That was the reason you remained in the University?”

“I found a way of volunteering in the medical wing, which gave me some access to their records. It wasn’t just personal; I needed some proof that I was a half-blood.” Dorian shakes his head. “I don’t know what I was thinking. It was a dangerous move, and I didn’t even find much of anything.” He gives me a look and grins. “Well, that is, except for you.”

“Which brings up another question that’s been on my mind,” I say with a start. “Why did you smile at me? Didn’t you know how much you were risking? Especially since you’re so valuable to everyone else.”

Dorian shrugs, rubbing at the side of his face where the growth of a short beard makes a scratching noise. “I really can’t answer that for sure.” He looks downward. “I saw something different about you, an inner turmoil.”

“Was I that readable?” Even now that I’m far away from the University, I still feel that fear of being transparent; of being found out.

“You know how the others are. How could you
not
stand out around them?” He kisses my forehead and then my lips.

When he releases me, words flood from my mouth. “I’m going with you. I can’t let you just risk your life and not be there to help.”

Dorian’s face is grim as he turns away and heads for the door. “I should leave now. I have a lot to think about.” He doesn’t turn to look at me as he exits the room.

It feels cold without him close, and I regret speaking so suddenly. I know I must be there, and Falda’s words make sense after the short time I’ve spent with Dorian. He may be trying to shelter me, but he doesn’t realize what’s at stake. His hatred for Odon can turn dangerous when he gains his power.

I fall onto my bed, landing on a hard object that I discover to be Narena’s journal. I pick it up carefully, as if the words within are as fraught with peril as the young woman’s life who wrote them. Even though I’m curious about the story that unfolds in these pages, I decide not to read them for the time being, afraid I may cause its contents to spill out into reality.

A rap at the entrance startles me, and I squeak a response. “Who’s there?”

Piper pulls aside the door flap to peer within, “Are you coming to dinner?” she asks with a stiff politeness.

“Dinner? Is it that late already?” I must’ve left Falda’s later than I thought.

Seeing that I’m my ordinary self, Piper hurries inside, a cape drawn close around her shoulders. She is followed by Lily who, adorned in a beige cape and new yellow dress, half-skips through the doorway.

“Yes! Can’t you tell by how hungry you are? You never showed for lunch. Tor said not to worry, that you were speaking with Falda, but we eventually had to find you. We missed you too much!” Lily gives me a quick hug.

I laugh, knowing that Lily and Piper could actually be considered my friends. The word takes on a new meaning. “Well. I’m glad you found me. I would’ve been hungry all night.”

“You probably would’ve withered and blown away!” Piper chides. “Come on, let’s get some food in you.”

Lily reaches for my cape and places it over my shoulders. “Here, the air has chilled. You may get cold.”

“Thanks.” I nod and button the front closed with a wood toggle and leather loop. The material feels heavy at first, but I soon adapt to its weight.

Once outside, I feel the temperature has indeed dropped. It has begun to grow darker as we make our way to the dining hall. My stomach pains are more apparent the closer we get to a potential meal.

The night has swallowed up the sky as we enter the building. Here it is warm, and I push the sides of the cape to my back. Piper leads the way as we head down the line of benches, which are practically all filled. I wave at Azura, who watches us approach. She gives a half smile and returns to her meal. Liam is back at his ordinary seat beside her, looking worn and tired, even pale. Tor sits across from them. He seems stressed as well, and it is a trait I never thought to see him bear. Still, when he follows Azura’s brief gaze to me, he manages a warm grin, and I see the shine has not left his eyes. As I pass by, he grasps my wrist.

“You’re feeling well?” he whispers so only I can hear.

I nod to assure myself more than him. He pats my hand and then releases it so I may continue forward.

Further down Finley and the others sit, and Jagger is explaining the occurrences of the day. He keeps his voice low, although I see those around him sneaking glances to listen secretly, impelled by the urgency in his voice.

“Isn’t that strange? Odon’s Winglarions flying over the field with everyone there? And us thinking we had the schedules figured out.”

“We did,” Finley declares, his elbows resting on the table and a mug in one hand.

Dugan takes a bite of his bread. “So then they changed,” he says smoothly.

“Is it such a surprise?” Buck adds in his deep voice. “Odon has plans of his own. The schedules only work so long as they suit him.”

“Why did he have them to begin with?” Piper asks as the three of us take seats across from the guys.

Buck, Weasel, and Jagger turn to Dugan to explain. Finley glances at me and then looks away.

“It’s simple to explain,” he begins in an even tone as his hand smoothes the side of his slick black hair. “Odon likes his followers better when they’re brainless. They take orders easily and don’t ask questions. The downside is they also don’t have the ability to think for themselves. They need structure, and a simple one at that. Thus came the schedules.” Dugan shrugs and continues to eat as if all this were obvious.

“But us not knowing the schedule? It don’t sound good,” Weasel says, half hiding his face behind the collar of his shirt. His large eyes peek out from beneath his hat.

Finley smirks. “Of course it’s not good, which is what I’ve been saying from the start. They think we can easily beat Odon at his own game?” Finley gives a laugh that quiets people further down the table. Weasel tries to hush him, but he presses on. “Odon’s not a fool. He has eyes everywhere, and now that he’s changed his schedules, maybe some of these part-bloods around here won’t be acting so cocky.”

Whispers erupt from close around us and I catch parts of the conversations.

“Finn’s right, we have no idea what we’re up against,” a young boy says to his friend next to me.

“But Tor says plans are already under way,” his friend replies.

I hear an older part-blood speak from across the table to a separate group. “We don’t stand a chance! Not if we can’t even tell when the guards are above us.”

“Yeah, they could sneak right up on us in the night, and we’d never know,” a girl puts in.

“If Dorian is willing to risk his life for this, then I’ll support them till the end,” comments a third.

I turn back to the others who are silently eating their meals. I can tell that their thoughts most likely reflect the discussions occurring around us.

It’s late as our plates are being passed back and the others get to their feet.

“Oriana, you’re joining us at the fire tonight, right?” Jagger asks.

“What do you mean?” I had expected everyone to go their separate ways afterward.

“We sit outside sometimes, on clear nights,” Piper explains from beside me. “Come stay with us. It’ll be fun.”

I shrug. “Okay.”

We head out the front of the building, which is opposite from the end Piper, Lily, and I entered. Upon the platform, a few other part-bloods have formed a large fire and laid out some benches and sit staring into the flames.

The night is cold, and I tug my cape tighter around my body. Once I’m near the fire, the heat melts away my tension. Piper and Lily beckon me to a bench where they take a seat. I’m grateful it is on the side of the fire that is closest to the trunk of the tree. I have still not grown comfortable with the platform’s edge.

Jagger stands up, the fire’s glint in his eyes, and begins to tell a story. The others watch him intently as his voice grows deep and enchanting. “The story of the lovers’ demise is the most tragic and frightening tale ever told. It occurred not long ago, and not far from this very spot they were forever lost.”

Jagger continues his tale, stopping once when Dugan intervenes.

“Jagger, you got it mixed up, it wasn’t a pond, it was a garden,” Dugan states coolly.

Jagger nods and continues.

I look away, judging by the content of the story that it will only cause me greater distress. Across from me, sitting alone and staring into the night air, is Finley. He is not listening to Jagger but thinking deeply, his eyebrows knotted in concentration.

Seeing that the others are still focused on Jagger’s tragic story, I make my way around the benches to Finley. He startles as I take a seat beside him.

“Oriana” is his only response.

“I’ve been meaning to speak with you.” I wrap my fingers around the edge of my cape. “There’s so much to think about, and I’m just … lost.”

The scar upon Finley’s cheek takes on a glow in the firelight as he stares at me with surprised brown eyes. “Speak with me? How do you think I can help you?”

“You think differently from everyone else. Like you know something they don’t, something they’re not telling me.”

He smiles at this. “You don’t say much, but you’re more aware of things than I thought.” He looks into the flames. “You remind me of someone. A girl I knew. She was smart like you, but it didn’t matter. It never matters.” Finley turns his gaze back to me. His hand reaches to grasp my hair. “You’re still so young, and yet somehow you’ve managed better than any of us.”

I shake my head, staring downward, feeling the heat rush into my cheeks. “I haven’t … I’m not really …”

“The mere fact that you’re the only pureblood from the University living here is proof enough.” Finley lifts my chin. “And so beautiful. You probably don’t even know it.” He gives a wan smile as he studies my face, leaning toward me.

I pull slowly away. All I can think of is Dorian. Despite everything, I still care for him. “Please, I only came to hear what you know. If Odon is to be defeated, then I must …” He has already released me and crossed his arms, turning back to watch the fire.

“Defeated? Very doubtful; it’s been tried before, and probably before that. Yet still everyone believes that this time it will work.” Finley’s face is serious.

“But Tor seems to think—”

“I know what Tor believes. He is an honest man; I know that, we grew up together. We were practically brothers,” he explains.

This surprises me, after seeing the conflict between them. “Brothers? But you seem so … at odds.”

“We have our differences. Unfortunately it has to do with this, and what’s at stake is life and death.” Finley shakes his head, “There’s so much to lose, and Tor’s ultimate faith lies in you.”

“Me?” I knew I played a large part in all this, but
ultimate faith
?

“You have learned of your role, haven’t you?” Finley conjectures.

I nod. “But—”

“I’m assuming you don’t know what happened last time.”

I remember Falda’s words,
“It has happened before, another half-blood, a failed attempt.”
Yet I wasn’t sure what she meant. “No, what happened?”

 CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

“Dorian wasn’t the only half-blood to be willing to go against Odon. There was another, and it was only a few years ago that the attempt occurred.”

Finley’s face is grim. “His name was Kadin. We were all friends while living at the University. Tor, Kadin, and later the guys.” He nods in the direction of Jagger, Dugan, Buck, and Weasel. “We had this plan to help all part-bloods escape. Our meeting place was the Great Oak. It was successful to a point, until Odon became stricter and a few others were caught. By then Azura, Liam, Piper, and Lily had been rescued, and the young ones like Toby came later on and sparingly.

“It just became near impossible to rescue many others, and this idea of an actual attack began circling in our minds. We all knew that Odon was a half-blood and that the half-blood abilities came at the Rebirth. We figured if we could find a way to sneak Kadin in, then he could use his new powers to attack Odon.”

“But why must it be exactly at the Rebirth?”

“We were certain that Odon would be inside the University at the time. But it’s not just that. At the moment when the Winglets and Finlets change, Odon must be there in order to direct his power toward them and grab hold of their minds. They are in a weakened state, yet so is he because of the concentration needed to gain control of so many in one moment. Even though Kadin might not be as powerful as Odon when he first transformed, Odon’s weakened state should give him an advantage.”

Finley sighs. “The plan seemed flawless at the time, but it wasn’t just Kadin’s lack of experience that caused it to fail. Instead of following the plan to distract Odon so that we could work together to overpower him, Kadin attacked to kill. He turned on us and even started trying to take over the others. That only made him weaker, giving Odon the advantage. Not many of us managed to escape safely. Others were trapped between the dueling half-bloods. We’re not sure if Kadin survived or not, but we think he somehow left to conquer his own territory and form an army of his own.” I see the anguish in his eyes, the fear and sorrow as he relives the moment. He smoothes back his dark hair with both palms.

I place my hand on his for comfort, “I understand why you’re unwilling to support Dorian.”

“It’s not for my sake, it’s the others. If anyone were to die because they trusted me to lead them to salvation …” He shakes his head. “At the time I thought it was the right thing to do. But now? I could never forgive myself if the past repeated itself. It’s not worth the risk to me. And the younger ones like Piper and Lily—they don’t even know of our previous attempt.”

I find myself agreeing with his logic. They tried to defeat Odon and failed, so why should they attempt the same plan over again? Granted, we can’t live under Odon’s rule forever, but there must be some other way. “Why is Tor so determined to make this idea work? He already knows what happened last time.”

Finley glances at me. “Tor believes this time will be different.”

“It’s Dorian, isn’t it? He’s different than Kadin, right?”

At this Finley smirks but shakes his head. “No, I’ve already told you. Dorian is like a brother to Tor; he practically raised Dorian since his parents left. But there’s no way to trust a half-blood. After all, we trusted Kadin; he was our friend, and now you’ve learned what that led to. Tor is not foolish enough to think that no added variables would change the outcome of our plan.”

“Then the only main variable … is me,” I say with a sigh.

Finley nods. “Tor wanted to wait for you to settle in. To slowly learn the situation, past and present, before knowing your final purpose. He thought you would agree with the plan once you gathered all the information at a bearable speed.”

“And you’ve been planning this for how long? Is that why Dorian talked to me in the first place? Is that how I got here?”

“Not at all!” Finley replies. “This wasn’t a long-term idea. You came to us, not the other way around. Dorian has no idea what role you play. In fact, he’s been trying to protect you and keep you out of it.”

“He has?”

“It’s a difficult task trying to persuade Dorian to allow you to come. One that I won’t have anything to do with.” Finley turns back to gaze at the fire. “Personally I agree with him: it’s too dangerous for a girl like you to come along. Someone who is not used to sneaking around Odon’s guards. It’s bad enough Azura insists on coming.”

“Well, I appreciate your concern, but it’s going to be my decision, and as far as I know”—I take a deep breath, and I feel a courage bloom within me—“if facing danger is what it takes to bring Odon down, then I’m not being left behind.”

“That’s very brave of you.” Finley smiles and places a large hand on my shoulder. “But when it comes time, you’ll be facing a formidable fear like the rest of us.”

I sigh. “So be it, but at least let me know what exactly you expect me to do.”

“Yes, I knew you were waiting to ask.” Finley pauses and thinks the question over. “It’s better if Falda tells you the rest. I’ve said enough already, and Falda has a calming way with words.” He laughs as the disappointment forms on my face.

“Fine, I understand, I already feel like my mind is about to explode.” I stand, brushing my dress downward with my hands. “I guess I can wait until tomorrow.”

“Wait, one more thing.” Finley stands and leans close. “Don’t tell anyone what I told you. Not even Dorian.” He glares at me sternly.

“Yes, I know, I got the same speech from Falda,” I retort sorely. I begin to head away.

“Where are you going?” Finley calls after me.

“To bed. Don’t worry, I’m not heading to confess anything,” I reply brusquely over my shoulder. I hear the snort of his dry laugh and continue forward into the night.

I hear him run toward me. “Maybe I’d better walk you back.”

I stop, pivoting to reply, “Why’s that? You don’t trust me?” He begins to walk next to me. The others seem to be too involved in Jagger’s tale to notice us leaving.

“Not entirely, you may decide to throw yourself over the edge in a bout of insanity.” He grins, and I see the glint of his teeth in the diminishing firelight.

“You wouldn’t want your last savior to die,” I remark sourly.

Finley stops abruptly. “Is that all you think you are to us? We’re all worried about you, especially since you came back from the underground of the University with that injury …” His voice trails off, and he tries to casually study my face to discern if I have been listening.

“What do you mean, injury?” I retort.

“Listen … it’s better if you didn’t know. In fact, forget I even said anything.” Finley tries to walk faster and avoid any response.

“Forget it? But if everyone is so worried, how can I just forget it?”

He grabs me by the shoulders and looks hard into my eyes. “I can’t explain this to you, but for some reason it’s been having effects. Just trust that we’re discussing it.”

“Wait a second. You mean something’s wrong with me, and no one knows what?” I fall to my knees and clutch my head. It has suddenly exploded in light and pain. I’m able to recover, and Finley helps me to my feet. His eyes are wide with concern. Is that what he meant by having effects? Fear keeps me from saying anything more. I decide to trust the others to figure it out for now.

We pass the rest of the way in silence as I try to forget what I’ve heard and concentrate on getting to sleep. Maybe by tomorrow this will all seem simpler; maybe I’ll become stronger or discover it was all some strange dream. Perhaps I’ll wake up in the University—Lenora awake and ready for classes, sitting upright in her bed beside mine. For a moment I will imagine I have dreamt something but then lose interest and begin to dress for class. My concentration directed toward a test or the proper behavior of a pureblood.

We make it to my shelter, and Finley wishes me a good night. I return the favor, giving him a slight wave as he heads further down the platform. As I step into my room, it becomes darker, and I immediately notice a firefly is caught within. It winks on and off, floating above my head and landing on the wall behind me. When I move to reach it, it takes off again, letting its light be seen every other moment, when it appears slightly further from its previous glow as it continues its flight.

Finally I cup my hands around it and bring it close. I feel its soft wings as it flies against my palm, and my hands light up briefly. I pass through the flap door, set it free into the night, watching it disappear among the surrounding trees, and turn my head upward. The stars above are distinct and bright; they hold their illumination in permanence. Alone they are small pinpoints in the sky, but together they could outshine the full moon.

Letting the flap fall behind me, I climb into bed and fall asleep in a final moment of calm. I wake several times throughout the night, only to fall back into a light sleep, tossing from side to side and reaching out at every corner of my bed.

I wake to find it is early morning. Although my eyes are open, staring up at the ceiling of branches, I do not move. Something seems to weigh me down, and my body does not fight it. Instead, I let it push me farther into the mattress beneath. I feel as though I’m sinking, first at my stomach, followed by my numb limbs and next my head.

I have been dozing slightly when Piper and Lily pass my cottage. I hear their chatter halt when they are at my doorway; perhaps they are listening for any movement. They do not peer inside but continue on, whether at an inkling that my energy is failing me or because they were warned against disturbing my sleep.

I sigh once they are out of range, grateful to be left in peace. Yet serenity is not completely easing its way inside me. The quiet isn’t entirely welcoming. It only makes it easier to focus on what feels like my impending doom. I don’t have the will to address this thought, and before I know it, I’ve already entered another superficial slumber.

I wake with a start, sensing that I have heard something but cannot remember what, and there is no sign of it within my room. The sun sheds an orange glow on the thick cloth that covers my door, telling me it is midday. I feel overly rested, and it makes me sluggish as I sit up and slide my legs over the side of my mattress. I hear the sound of approaching footsteps.

There is a knock on the side of my doorway, and I beckon for whoever calls to enter. Tor slides inside, his head nearly reaching the top of the doorframe and a disrupted curl just brushing it. “How are you feeling?” he asks with a hopeful grin.

“Not myself,” I reply.

At this, I notice a frown, but it vanishes quickly and is soon forgotten, “Falda was hoping to meet with you today. But if you are not well …”

In an instant I am to my feet and heading toward him. No manner of illness could hold me back from finding out more. “Please, I would still like to go if that’s all right.”

“As you wish,” Tor answers with his accustomed wink. His long strides carry him out the door, and I struggle to keep up with him, my feet feeling like heavy weights.

By the time we reach Falda’s cottage, my spirits have lightened. The sunlight, although it disappears every few moments behind a large white cloud, has given me some much-needed energy. I notice that the biting of hunger has risen in my stomach, and it rumbles softly. As if hearing it, Tor turns and says, “You must be hungry. My mother will have something for you.” I grin in thanks, and he flicks my hair as he passes me and heads away.

When I enter, the scene before me is much like the one witnessed yesterday. I notice that the lavender dress, in its last stages, is now laid across Falda’s lap as she rocks slowly in her chair. She smiles at me warmly. I nod and say, “Good afternoon.”

“Indeed we have, although I believe tomorrow may bring another storm. The winds have been guiding large clouds our way.” This does not seem to bother her though, and she merely shrugs at the thought and continues stitching a line of the dress with shaky hands. I wait, watching her, trying not to feel the impatience rising at the back of my throat. She reaches the end of the line of fabric, gathers it up, and puts it on a side table that is woven like a basket. Reaching further past, she lifts a cloth-lined basket and beckons me to her. “Here, dear, have some.” I get up from my seat to peer over the edge of the basket at a cluster of fruit scones. I reach in and pull out two the size of my palms. Returning to my seat, I begin to gradually pick at them, feeling the hunger fade but a pit of anxiety remain.

With a sigh, Falda replaces the basket and rests deeply into the cushions of her chair. She nestles softly in to them like a bird, a plume floating from the side of her chair to glide neatly to the floor. She doesn’t notice. Her blue eyes have focused on me, and her eyebrows have drawn together like a stitching pulled too tight, “What is the matter, dear? I only just saw you yesterday, and yet you look very different.”

“One can learn a lot in a short time, and the knowledge may be heavy.” I know she can hear the irritation in my voice.

“Tell me what you have heard.” Falda rests her fingers together in her lap, and there is a soft forbearance in her tone. It’s in this moment that I think to myself, this must be what having a mother is like.
Her desire to listen eases my frustration, and I tell her of my talk with Finley last night: explained the previous attempt to defeat Odon and finally the discovery that I play a part in the Great Oak’s future, yet he would not tell me exactly what it is.