I turn to Professor Kristian, who’s glaring icily at Lukas, and feel a bitter surge of triumph.
Lukas holds out his arm to me. I take it and walk out without another glance back.
*
I walk halfway back to the North Tower with Lukas, the two of us pausing near a small grove of trees in the center of a small courtyard.
I lean back against the tree trunk behind me, my hands finding the cool bark. I close my eyes, breathe in deep and let the wood of the tree relax me.
Mmm. Rock Maple.
The wilds rattle me, but lone stands of trees, cut off from the forest, soothe me, rounding out my sharp edges like calming waters.
When I open my eyes, Lukas is watching me closely, his head cocked with curiosity, his hand also on the tree, his fingers languidly rubbing at the bark.
“Can you feel it?” he asks. “The roots?”
I swallow. These odd leanings of mine—I’m not supposed to speak of them. But clearly, Lukas feels them, too. “They run deep,” I hesitantly answer.
He smiles at me. “Mmm.”
“Thank you,” I tell him, rubbing at the bark, the tree strong at my back. “You’ve...you’ve been a good friend to me.”
He looks me over boldly, then smirks. “Yes, well. I have ulterior motives.”
I roll my eyes at this and sigh. He lets out a short laugh, and I can’t help but smile.
But a lingering unease tugs at me.
“Lukas?” I hesitantly ask.
Lukas leans into the tree’s strong trunk, his sword’s hilt reflecting some nearby lamplight.
“Hmm?” He looks down at me, his face unreadable, a faint shimmer to his skin in this dark.
“Was it...was it necessary to threaten the child?”
He narrows his eyes. “I just did them a favor, Elloren.” He gives a quick look around to check if we’re mostly alone, then, seeing that we are, he turns back to me, his voice going low. “The child’s here illegally. They need to do a better job of hiding her.”
“Oh,” I say, chastened. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
But what about when he threatened Iris’s family and Bleddyn’s sick mother? He certainly wasn’t doing anyone any favors there.
“Elloren, you have to choose what side you’re on,” he says, shaking his head. “It’s always been that way. It will always be that way. Dominate, or be dominated. Those are your choices. You saw what happened to you when everyone thought you wouldn’t fight back, that you couldn’t fight back. How much compassion did they show you?”
He’s right. Of course he’s right. But I just can’t shake the image of little Fern crying.
“She was just so scared of being sent back to the Fae Islands.”
They’ve been part of Gardneria since the Realm Wars. We let the Urisk settle there and provide them with homes and work to do. So why was little Fern so scared?
Shame tugs at me over the part I played in her terror. Yvan’s sharp, accusatory glare flashes to mind.
Unsettled, I wrap my arms around myself for warmth, the chill of encroaching autumn creeping into the air.
Lukas eyes me thoughtfully. “The Fae Islands are a work colony, Elloren. And the Urisk are expected to work. Quite hard. But you need to keep things in perspective. The Urisk women are better off now than they were when their own men were in charge, or when the Sidhe Fae ruled them, for that matter.”
“Still, it seems as if they must be treated...harshly.”
Lukas looks slightly irritated by my observation. “And how did the Urisk or the Fae or the Kelts treat us when they were the major power in the region?”
I already know the answer to that. Worse. They treated us much worse.
The Fae subdued the Urisk, and later, the Kelts subdued the Fae in what seemed like an endless cycle of warfare and violence. And throughout it all, my people were oppressed and abused by all three.
Until recent history.
“Maybe you or I wouldn’t want to work in the Fae Islands’ labor camps,” Lukas goes on, “but believe me, it’s a step up for them.”
“I guess I don’t know enough to make sense of it all,” I admit.
I have so much to learn about these different cultures. About how the world works.
“You’ll learn,” he assures me. “In time.” He glances around at the gathering darkness. “It’s getting late.” He turns back to me. “And you need to confront some Icarals.”
My stomach clenches at the thought of yet more confrontation. “Lukas?” I ask tentatively, looking up at him.
He raises a brow questioningly.
“Are you still relieved that you don’t need to wandfast to me?”
An easy grin spreads over his handsome face. He gives me a once-over. “No, I am not relieved,” he says smoothly. “Now that you’re no longer covered in dirt, I think it’s quite a pity we’re not wandfasted.”
I swallow, my face warming at his close proximity. My eyes dart down his chest to the sleek wand fastened at his waist. I remember Fallon’s ball of ice. “Show me something,” I say, gesturing toward his wand. “Show me some of your magic.”
His smile is slow as his eyes flick over me. He pulls the wand into his hand in one smooth motion. Holding it loosely, he steps back and points it at me, murmurs words in the Ancient Tongue, then takes a deep breath and straightens up, as if pulling power up from his feet.
Translucent black lines curl out from the wand tip, fluidly making their way toward me.
I gasp as they flow and curl around my body. At first I feel a gentle pressure from them, tickling at my skin, teasing.
And then they tighten.
It’s impossible to resist as the swirling lines pull at my waist, my arms, my legs. I find it both exciting and disconcerting to be so much in his power. My feet skid over the grassy ground as he pulls me closer, until I’m right before him. Once there, he flicks his wrist, and the black lines dissolve as he languidly wraps his arms around me.
“That’s amazing,” I breathe, in awe of him.
Lukas smiles and brings his lips to mine.
*
It’s late when Lukas finally walks me the rest of the way to the North Tower.
I watch him as he leaves, striding down the sloping field toward the University city’s twinkling lights, his cloak flapping behind him like dark wings.
I reach up to absentmindedly touch my mouth, my lips still warm and swollen from his fevered kisses. But my feelings of bliss begin to evaporate like smoke as I watch him disappear from view.
Darkly resolved, I take a deep breath, turn and make my way into the tower.
*
When I enter my room, it’s dark and they’re there, waiting for me. I can see Ariel’s outline, crouched below the window as she was the night before. Wynter huddles on her bed, appearing as if she wants to be anywhere but where she is, silver eyes peeking out over her wings, wide with fear.
I hesitate, Wynter’s terror giving me momentary pause.
Stop it, I tell myself. These aren’t Urisk children. These are Icaral demons.
I ignore Ariel and walk over to the lamp on one of the desks, lighting it quickly with Bornial flint, the Elvish stones sparking to a small flame when tapped together.
An eerie, reddish glow soon covers the room, making Ariel look even more demonic. She creeps toward me slowly, perhaps expecting the same reaction she got out of me last night. I turn to face her, my hand flat on the desk, eyeing her calmly, trying to control the anger welling up within me and the trembling of my hands.
“It would be a shame if the Gardnerian girl caught fire while she was sleeping,” Ariel whispers as she straightens up, unfurling her tattered black wings. She takes another threatening step toward me. “Burning is so painful. I wonder how long she would scream. How long it would take a Gardnerian to die...”
Something snaps within me as Ariel unexpectedly lunges forward. I push her away from me so hard, she falls onto the floor.
It’s a shock to see her there. I’ve never pushed anyone over in my entire life, and my own violence frightens me for a moment.