I began to feel even more uncomfortable. I looked down into the carpet of flowers as the blush crept up my cheeks.
“Your souls must be connected,” she sighed.
I couldn’t help but hear that teenage longing in her voice.
“It’s like you are meant to be.”
I rolled my eyes at her, but secretly, I hoped she was right. At least then I would be able to save him.
TwentySix
Ilyan had knocked loudly on my door at daybreak to command me to meet him in the courtyard in ten minutes. Even without being awakened by the bright sunlight in his room, I still wasn’t allowed to sleep in. I didn’t give him the benefit of an answer. Instead, I rolled out of bed, thankful for the disappearance of the ancient décor. The brown and orange paper had been replaced by white walls with a deep green stripe circling the ceiling. The lumpy bed with the ancient bedspread was also gone; a small, squishy, pure-white day bed in its place. The dark table and orange lamp were still there, but they didn’t look as old as they had before; they looked almost chic. It wasn’t really my style, but I liked it anyway.
I had opted to shower first, deciding that since I hadn’t actually taken a real bath in a while and knowing that I could be in and out in five minutes, it wouldn’t be a problem. When I stepped into the hot water though, I knew I was in trouble. The jets of steaming water hit my skin, and every muscle in my body relaxed into a comfortable jelly. I let the water flow over me in long rivers as it wiped away the grit and grime of everything that had happened to me in the last two weeks. Granted, the water was clear and I actually had no real dirt or grime, it still felt wonderfully cleansing and invigorating.
I stood there for longer than necessary, feeling the now-constant buzzing. After my success with the circle of pansies, I hadn’t been able to accomplish anything else without removing the necklace, despite trying late into the night. Standing here without the necklace, I felt my magic surge again. I didn’t dare attempt anything for fear that it would hinder any success later. I turned off the water and stepped out, knowing Ilyan would be upset with my tardiness.
Sure enough, without the sound of the water, I could hear Ilyan and Ovailia shouting at each other in Czech again, their voices carrying through my door. I was beginning to wonder if this was a daily occurrence.
I dressed quickly as the angry yelling continued, trying to pick out clothes from among the mismatched array of what had been brought over for me. I could tell that most of these clothes had belonged to several different people. I opted for a band shirt I was sure was Wyn’s and a pair of baggy, gray pants. Thankfully, a pair of flip-flops near my size had been left for me, so I slid them on as I pulled Ryland’s sweater over my head, his lingering smell still clinging to the fabric. I flung the door open, and the yelling stopped.
“Look who it is,” Ovailia sneered in a sugary sweet voice. “Finally decide to grace us with your presence, did you?”
I looked from Ilyan to Ovailia in confusion. Ovailia kept her eyes glued on me, her lips pursed, while Ilyan had his jaw clenched and eyes narrowed toward no one in particular.
“Here I am.” I tried to sound perky, but my voice fell flat.
“Wonderful.” Ovailia walked away, her hair swaying ominously behind her. Ilyan followed her, beckoning me to follow.
My guard went up instantly. I wasn’t sure I wanted to spend an hour, let alone a day, with the two of them together. My experiences with them so far had been less than stellar. Ilyan led us, once again, into the courtyard, but my heart plunged at seeing the thirty or so people who were milling around the large space. My hands moved to pull my hood up, but stopped half-way; I needed to be brave.
“Sorry,” Ilyan said sheepishly. “I had hoped to prepare you for this, but I didn’t count on your needing a shower.” He grabbed my hand and placed it gently in the crook of his arm. It didn’t escape my notice that his posture improved almost instantly. “‘My Lord’, remember.” He smiled bashfully at me before leading me into the large courtyard.
Everyone stood and faced him. I couldn’t help but feel that my baggy pants and sweater left me terribly underdressed for this. Even though Ilyan wore his trademark torn jeans and button-up shirt and no one else was wearing anything out of the ordinary, the air of the situation demanded something better. As we walked past each person, they would bow their head and lower slightly. Ilyan would return the bow with a slight head nod and sometimes say a name. Thankfully, by the time we made it to the tree, most everyone had returned to what they were doing previously.
“Is it always like this?” I asked quietly, noticing that several of the people continually looked over toward us.
“My Lord,” Ilyan reminded me under his breath.
“Is it always like this, My Lord?” I asked stiffly.
“Unfortunately,” he mumbled.