Oriana's Eyes (4 page)

 CHAPTER SEVEN

It is time to leave. Leave the moment, return to the past, the previous state of blind obedience in a world that will never care for me: who I am, what I want. Am I selfish? I don’t know, and it makes no difference. I must return to my other life, but I can never be that other Oriana again.

Dorian’s hand is warm in my own. His touch is that of a half-blood. But it is the most wholesome contact I have ever shared with a person. And that means more than his blood ever will.

We’ve been silent for a while. It has been too long already; we allowed ourselves more time than the crime permitted. Now I feel the anxiety return, pulling at me harder than Dorian can compensate for. I stand, the movement taking every bit of will.

“Dorian, I have to leave, I have to go back.” I avoid his eyes. Nothing is farther from what I want at this moment. How can I explain what I am feeling? However much I own this anxiety, this regret, it is he who causes it. My choices are to stay and be caught or return and be safe yet miserable. Maybe it is the fear—the fear they bred in me at birth—that forces me to obey and return to the University.

Dorian doesn’t respond with words. He faces me, staring into my eyes and telling me everything he can’t speak. Standing close, I realize his height is perfect, and I fit myself inside his arms, my head reaching just below his chin. If I don’t speak, we will be stuck like this forever.

“Dorian?”

“Yes?”

“How will I get back inside? I’ll be caught.”

He pulls away to hold me by the shoulders. I know by the look in his eyes that my words have ruined the moment. “I know how. I’ll bring you back.” He speaks with a sigh, and yet his jaw is tight.

He stares at me for a minute longer. His eyes flicker from my eyes to my mouth, and he bites his own lower lip. If we embrace in such a way, there would be no escape for me. He seems to realize this and turns away, his arms dropping helplessly at his sides like limp ropes. As a noose, his hand tightens around my wrist. He does not look behind as he sluggishly leads me out of the garden and back into that other night, different from the night inside these walls of foliage.

He takes one stubborn step after another, restraining the urge to boil over. I can feel his rage simmering beneath the surface.

We reach the side of the building and crouch in the bushes, motionless, in the exact spot where we met last night.

The sun is already rising and the sky turns a sullen gray that brightens to a bleached blue on the eastern horizon. We remain inside the bushes, listening to each other breathe.

“Now what?” I whisper through clenched teeth.

“Now we get inside,” he says, still cross over bringing me back. He gets up from behind the bushes and leaves our hiding place to stand in the open daylight. He reaches into a fold of his clothing and slides out a thin piece of slate. I hold my breath as he approaches the door slowly.

I imagine the door waiting for him to release it from silence and allow its screeching voice to carry throughout the walls. I presume the door will enjoy its moment of recognition; it doesn’t happen often. It stands expectantly, awaiting salvation.

Dorian slowly slips the slate into the upper part of a gap on the side of the door. He slides it downward, head tilted intently. I hear a click and release my breath.

He reaches for the handle, and the door glides open soundlessly. Dorian motions for me to approach, and I warily leave the cover to join him in the doorway. His foot keeps the door open while his hand holds the slate against the frame. He must be pushing back a small mechanism that otherwise would have tripped the alarm.

There is a moment, while we both regard each other, when we share a spot between two worlds.

“The guards have switched patrols by now,” Dorian whispers directly into my ear. “Just listen for his approach and count the first three steps. Then run straight to your room.” His free hand comes to the side of my neck. He roughly kisses me before guiding me through the door. I look back at him briefly and catch one glimpse of him in the growing daylight. Then he has closed the door and is away. The good-bye was fleeting, but I don’t waste time wishing it were longer.

I listen for steps, nothing, and then one, two, three …

I run to my room, through the door, and to bed, falling into a sleep forced by exhaustion.

 CHAPTER EIGHT

In the University I can’t help but constantly wonder, does anyone know where I was last night? Is it written all over my face? I feel as though everyone around me is watching the events replay themselves over and over in my mind. The chore of withholding my thoughts is a heavy burden, laid in my arms, at the back of my throat, strapped to my knees. I don’t know how I can even walk around.

I haven’t confronted Lenora yet. She had already left the room when I awoke for classes. She knows me so well, she would definitely notice any change in me.

A bell rings, and I head for the cafeteria. My hunger is powerful now, and I rush through the double doors. I missed my afternoon meal yesterday while at the medical center. Now my appetite takes control, and I grab a tray to start piling it as high as possible. I falter, realizing I must avoid attracting attention, and instead slowly take my normal portions.

The meals are laid out in silver trays that sit in rectangular cutouts in the counter’s surface. Bright lights shine above the food, keeping the grainy substances warm while the students file past, scooping out servings with metal ladles. The gritty food is filled with the best nutrients to keep students healthy and active, or at least that’s what they tell us.

The line exits from the serving counter back into a domed arena, all white, holding scattered round tables surrounded by cold metal seats and a listless student in each. It is hard to tell they are even hungry.

I follow the line out the door into the coolness of the large cafeteria. It takes a few seconds for my eyes to adjust; it is brighter out here than in the kitchen.

There is a monotone hum of conversing students around the tables. My group nods in recognition as I place my tray on the table and sit beside Lenora. There is a glint of something in her eye as she acknowledges me, but it is gone almost before I see it, and I soon forget it even transpired.

Aurek looks me square in the eye from across the table. “So how are you feeling? Did they treat you well?”

I nod solemnly. The mention of it brings back memories of Dorian as well as an underlying knot in my throat.

“What did they say was the matter?” he presses halfheartedly.

A reasonable question, yet I am stupidly not expecting it.

For a minute I am frozen, jaw clenched. There is general attention on me for what seems like forever.

Then I breathe. I shrug and say, “Dehydration …” It’s a reasonable explanation for passing out, and the topic turns to something about a group of part-bloods disappearing.

“Where did you go last night?”

The words cause me to nearly choke on my food, and I cough awkwardly. After pressing a napkin to my lips, I look up at Lenora. She is watching me, waiting.

“What are …?” My voice is hoarse, and I cough again. “What are you talking about? I didn’t go anywhere.” I put on what I hope is a believable smile to ease tensions.

“I saw you leave the room,” she says evenly.

“Oh yes, well, I did go to the bathroom that one time …,” I answer, hoping the explanation will suffice. The bathroom is right next door, however, so that excuse is risky, given the amount of time I was gone.

“And that took you the rest of the night?” She looks down at her plate, and I glance around the table to see if anyone is listening. They seem too involved in their discussion to have overheard, and I relax a little.

Still, whatever words I might respond with are caught in my throat. There is a silence, and I still can’t think up anything worth saying. Lenora’s gaze flits back to me, and I gape at her with the helplessness of a prey caught beneath the claws of a toying predator. Lenora’s wide eyes are lit with triumph that makes my insides boil.

“You’re always accusing me of losing faith,” I say spitefully. “As if
you’re
the perfect one, and Odon loves you more. Ever think that maybe you’re just jealous of me?
I’ve
never been brought to the Odonian.”

She blinks in surprise. Did I strike that deep? I get up and leave, hoping my words have done their worst. Wasn’t she deserving of every second? And then I realize I should have said more; I should have gone for the core. Lenora never has any compassion for anyone, especially me. She doesn’t know the meaning of the word. She loathes me, and I unwillingly put up with her.

My anger dies down, and I realize something that I forgot in the heat of my hatred.
Lenora knows
, and whatever she knows, it is enough to cause considerable damage to my life. There’s no question that she would jump at the chance to set my downfall in motion. I stop in midstep and hold my breath. The panic is building within. I have to leave, and the sooner the better. Admitting this lets me continue walking, and I assure myself that it will happen soon. I will leave, and then Lenora, the professors, the Odonian, will all be behind me.

I wander through halls, getting lost in my mind and losing connection with the contact of feet and floor, eyes and vision, or lungs and breath. Living takes on a new and unimportant meaning. Maybe when I was with Dorian it all had purpose, but this place has stolen it away. I am a faceless mask of order and routine.

A bell rings overhead, signaling the end of mealtime, and I start toward class.

I scribble away in my notebook, more useless information. But I listen to all that is said, and I answer all that is asked. There is no need to think in class; it is done for you. No need to feel, because there is no use for emotions. Yet here I am, thinking and feeling. I want to stop the frustration, the temper welling up within. I grip my moving pen until my knuckles shine white.

An announcement reverberates from somewhere within the room. I almost jump from my seat but luckily catch myself.

“Students who are invited or involved in the Rebirth will attend it a month from now, at which time they will follow their Odonians accordingly. That is all; good day.” The voice cuts off, and we are left to wait in silence for the bell to send us to our next class.

It seems odd to me that after so many years I still have no concept of the Rebirth. What could it be? Is it simply a graduation into a new life? What lies ahead in such a life? My peers around me seem uncaring about the subject, and I dismiss it with a sense of useless questioning. I’ll be far away long before it happens anyway.

The bell rings, and we all mechanically head for the door. It’s strange, but I look for the first time at the others’ faces. They look so similar: pale skin, blue eyes, blond …

“Oriana.” It is my professor. She smiles as I approach her warily. Her hazel eyes are empty of any greeting.

“Yes, Miss?”

“Oriana, your grades are beginning to concern me. On this past test you’ve scored below your usual quota. Has something affected your studies?”

The thought of Dorian flashes before my eyes. A drop of sweat rolls down my back.

I swallow, my mouth completely dry and answer blankly. “No, Miss, I suppose I was a bit confused … I will straighten it up. Don’t worry.”

“I’m sorry, Oriana, but I have already signed you up with the Odonian. He wishes to meet with you today after school.”

The words ring in my ears, and I swallow again. The thought sends a wave of pain through my body. I know how people return from a meeting with an Odonian: they are changed, forever.

I nod and turn to leave.

“If you do not attend,” my professor remarks, “I will find out and I will report you.”

“I’ll attend.”

“Of course you will, Oriana.”

I clench my teeth, tighten my fists, and walk out. The realization of danger digs its heels deeper into my stomach. I am in trouble now, and there’s no way out. I’ll have to be strong. Show no signs of my changes, my anger, and any others.

I find motivation. Somewhere inside of my panicking form is the strength that keeps me sane. The courage to remain in my seat and be the student I was not long ago.

 CHAPTER NINE

The last bell of the school day rings, and I gather my books. I’m heading to the Odonian’s office. My feet are heavy, and my pace is deathly slow, but somehow I make it there quickly.

Before I can knock on his door, he answers it with a beaming smile. “Oriana, I’m so happy you made it. Please take a seat.”

His gold hair sweeps down in a crescent moon around his head. His upper scalp is pale and dotted with unsightly marks that continue to his forehead. Two near invisible eyebrows, so blond they blend into white skin, sit above vibrantly blue eyes. He is still smiling, white teeth gleaming unnaturally beneath fluorescent lights.

He reaches beneath his desk into some neatly filed papers and pulls out a folder. He leafs through its contents as he speaks. “Oriana, your professor tells me she is concerned about you, says something seems to have interfered with your academic performance.”

I shrug and smile sweetly. “I was as surprised as she was at my grade on the last test. I guess I’ve become slightly anxious about the Rebirth. It’s just a month away, you know.” I hope my statement is believable and hide all doubt with a smile.

He chuckles. “Ha ha. Yes, of course, I know. But school is always a priority … Would you like a glass of water?”

I start to refuse but then decide against it after he looks at me dejectedly. I nod. He hands me a paper cup and then fills it from a small pitcher.

“This is special mineral water with vitamins, perfect for a young Winglet like yourself.”

I drink it down. It’s sweet and cool, and I enjoy the way it glides down my throat.

I feel exhilarated, with a new energy and strength. What was causing so much fear? The feeling seems to vanish from my memory.

“Oriana.”

I hear my name and realize I am still sitting in the office of an Odonian.

“I trust you’ll try harder in school, no more stress or anxiety. Just keep praying to Odon, and continue to drink this.” He hands me a jar of the water. “It’ll keep you healthy and alert.”

“Thank you.” I smile. I’ve tricked him, outsmarted Odon himself. His system is oblivious to the complete fraud sitting before him—me. “I feel better already.”

I leave his office with a gentle numbness. I’ve forgotten why I was even nervous about coming here in the first place. I will return to my room and study with Lenora. Then I will get a good night’s sleep. It will be the right thing to do, and shouldn’t I do what is right? There is no pain in following the rules. No constant breath upon my back. My palms are dry, my step more sure. I am a new person. There is a new Oriana looking out through my eyes. She protects me. Don’t fight it; fall into the embrace, cool and comforting.

That night I wake from sleep shaking in a cold sweat. I feel sick and my head is reeling.

“Lenora, Lenora! Wake up, I feel
terrible
!”

She is already awake, holding a glass of water close to my face.

“Drink this,” she says solemnly.

I don’t think, I don’t ask—I just drink. The headache, the pain, and the spinning are gone. I fall back to sleep.

The morning arrives politely, like an old friend. There is nothing beyond this simple morning. There is nothing to concentrate on, no tangle of emotions to sort through. I can’t even recall their presence. Why did I want them so much? It is beyond me now, and something in this knowledge encourages me to smile at Lenora, my friend, my savior from last night’s trauma.

I know where I belong in this society. I was not cut out for rebellion. I realize my one and only calling. It is to follow Odon. He is my only love. He will save me in the end. He will free me from the darkness of the night. It brings a pang of devotion to my chest.

Lenora smiles back, and I know all is well once again.

We leave the comfort of our beds to dress. We gather supplies from our desks and finish preparation together. We do not speak as we leave the room and head out to breakfast. I feel as though I understand Lenora better. Clearly I assumed wrongly. She did not despise me, for she does not despise. I myself cannot possess the feeling. I don’t wonder whether I’d prefer to.

We reach the cafeteria and begin to peck through the pans. We are soon seated and consuming our meals solemnly. Lenora and I pass vacant glances occasionally but stay uninvolved in any conversations. I am not surprised when the bell rings overhead to usher us toward the first class of the day.

As the days progress my concept of time seems nonexistent, and the minutes, hours, and days pass vaguely. Routine is always there as my close friend, to keep me safe and secure. A trip to the garden used to be part of my routine, but I feel no need to leave the University.

I remember one moment quite clearly, although I can’t connect it to its place in the past. It was a while ago, I believe. When I was at lunch, I saw Aurek’s eyes upon me always. I understood his expression as though watching from behind a glass wall. He followed me into the hallway and clutched my arm. I was against the wall when he took what he wanted, a rough kiss that left my lip bleeding.

I saw a half-blood pass as Aurek walked away and I wiped the red from my broken lip. He looked at me and must have seen, but what shone in his eyes was indescribable. I stood there staring down at my reddened fingers.

These thoughts don’t matter, I’m sure. Here beneath the lights, among the eyes, this is where I am needed. This is why I live, to serve, to do what is expected. It repeats in my head, an assurance to my actions. The voice was once foreign yet is no longer. It tells, and I oblige. It guides, and I follow. Without it, I would be no more than a useless mass of matter.

The memory replays in my head as I walk to my locker. I shake it away and focus on the books I need, the notes I take. The halls are becoming emptier as students file into class. I hurry to be on time.

A hand grabs me around my waist. I am pulled into a corner and behind a row of lockers. I struggle in vain but cannot think of a reason to resist. The arms around me pivot my body to see a face.

I stare, but my cry is muffled beneath the hand over my lips.

“Oriana, you’ve changed.” His eyebrows are narrowed, his eyes a pale shade of blue.

The sight brings tears to my eyes from some feeling long ago that I have no memory of. It is as if the tears are the only things within me that can recall the past. I search but find no answer; in fact I do not wish to. Instead my body freezes up. My mind goes blank. Who is he, this half-blood?

I try to shout, “Let go!” but his hand muffles my words. His eyes are wide, and the pupils so large that the blue is a thin ring around the black. He looks back and forth frantically, clearly hoping no one has heard.

“What has happened to you?”

I try to speak once again, but his hand is covering my lips. He is apprehensive, but slowly he removes his hand.

“Nothing has happened. I feel perfectly well.” I chuckle at this, hearing a distant voice coming from my mouth.

“Something has to have happened; you’re not yourself. I saw you with him.” As he says this, he releases his hold on me. I leap at the chance and escape from the corner. But as I am about to call out for a professor, I collapse, shivering, on the floor. I break into a cold sweat and can’t move. My body feels as though it is repelling something, and my head is sick with nausea. This has happened once before. I reach for my bag, but I have left it at the half-blood’s feet, and my groping hand can’t seem to find it.