Initially contemptuous of Professor Volya, Diana has reversed course entirely now that she’s realized how knowledgeable our professor is. As a result, Diana has taken a very hard line against sharing notes with her inattentive twin brother, who, in Diana’s words, should “put away the ridiculous poetry books and concentrate on the lecture.” So, in a wildly improbable turn of events, I’ve become the note-taker for both Aislinn and Jarod, who continue their written dialogue about great literature throughout every class now.
Jarod’s head suddenly lifts, nostrils flaring. He turns just as Aislinn rounds a long bookshelf and comes into view. She hurries toward us, her expression strained.
“I’m so glad I found you two.” She’s flustered and out of breath.
“Randall was looking for you earlier,” I inform Aislinn, confused by her troubled demeanor.
“I’m trying to avoid him, actually,” she admits, her eyes darting around the bookcases and shadowy halls.
I let out a small, rueful laugh. “You won’t be able to avoid him forever. Not if you plan on wandfasting to him.”
Her face tenses, and she looks down at the floor, hands clutched at her skirts. “I know.”
Jarod, who’s been quietly watching Aislinn, straightens and looks past us, his nostrils flaring.
“Aislinn, I’ve been looking all over for you!”
She turns around to where Randall has just emerged, and her face falls. “Well, now you’ve found me,” she says, her voice flat, her body language unwelcoming.
Randall turns a critical eye on Jarod and me. “Elloren,” he says guardedly. He shoots Jarod a look of disgust and pointedly turns back toward Aislinn.
I find myself bristling at this, while Jarod calmly regards Randall, his face neutral.
“You told me you’d be in your room,” Randall complains, the well-pressed slate-gray silk of his military apprentice uniform stiff and new, a white ribbon neatly pinned around his arm. “I don’t like having to search for you.”
Aislinn stares back at him, emotionless. “I’m sorry, Randall. I didn’t mean to inconvenience you.”
“Yes, well.” He sniffs. He casts another sidelong glance at Jarod, then takes hold of Aislinn’s arm. “You need to come with me.”
A look of reluctance crosses Aislinn’s face. “Why? Where are you taking me?”
Randall narrows his eyes at Jarod. “Out of here.”
Aislinn’s expression turns deeply conflicted, and I notice that she has the same book of poetry tucked under her arm that Jarod has sitting underneath his Chemistrie notes.
“Maybe I’ll see you later?” she asks me hopefully, her eyes flickering toward Jarod and then to me again.
“Of course,” I says encouragingly. “I’ll be around.”
We watch as Randall pulls her away. Aislinn glances back longingly before she’s led from our sight.
I turn to Jarod. He’s staring after them, his face newly tense.
“Is that who she’s wandfasting to?” he asks me, incredulous. “Please tell me that’s not him.”
“That’s him.”
“But...she’s repulsed by his touch.”
“Yes, well...” I pause, frowning at him. “How do you know that?”
Jarod shrugs as he gathers some papers together. “I can smell it on her.” He looks off in the direction they’ve gone, his blond brow furrowing. “He’s not repulsed by her, though,” he grinds out, surprising me with the level of disgust in his tone.
“No, unfortunately.” I stare hard at Jarod. “Can you tell that, too?”
He nods.
“That’s an interesting skill to have.”
“What? To sense attraction?”
“Mmm. But it must complicate life in your societies, everyone knowing everyone else’s romantic secrets. Everything completely out in the open.”
“On the contrary,” he replies thoughtfully, “I think it simplifies things. It makes it easier to find the right life mate. Your people have to go around guessing how you feel about each other.”
“It is a bit frustrating,” I agree.
“I can’t imagine.”
“So, what do you do if you fall in love with someone and they aren’t interested in you?”
“Well, it’s immediately apparent, so you back off before chasing after a lost cause.”
“But what if you really like someone?”
“If they didn’t reciprocate, it would all feel...wrong. Their scent, their emotions, their body language. It would just be too off-putting.”
“So if Randall and Aislinn were Lupine, he would stop chasing after her?”
“No,” Jarod says after considering this for a moment. “He seems...special. I think if he were Lupine, he’d still be an idiot.”
I laugh at this, and he smiles at me.
Jarod resumes transcribing where he had left off, but I’m having a hard time concentrating. “I wonder where he took her,” I say, thinking out loud.
Jarod doesn’t look up from his writing. “They’re still in the archives. I can hear him lecturing her.”
I listen closely, straining my ears for sound. Nothing. “You can hear them?” I say, disbelieving.
Jarod continues to write. “He’s warning her about staying away from me. Thinks I’ll attack her, do what he wants to do...”
My mouth falls open, and I gape at him.
After a moment he looks up at me. “Our hearing is vastly superior to yours.”
“Another interesting skill to have,” I say, amazed.
“It’s a horrible skill to have here,” he replies, exasperated. “I’ve been privy to countless conversations regarding the Gardnerian females’ worries that I will abduct them at any moment, which is absurd.”
“There might be a reason why they’re so concerned,” I point out. “The Northern Lupine packs may be different from yours. Aislinn’s father visited them and came back with some very disturbing tales.”
“Really. What exactly did he see?” Jarod asks with deep skepticism. He lays his pen down and gives me his full attention.
“Aislinn said that he saw one of the men get up in front of the entire pack, grab a young woman and drag her off into the woods to...” I gesture vaguely with my hand to fill in the blanks.
“And you believe this?”
“Jarod, he saw it with his own eyes.”
“People see what they expect to see,” he says sharply. “Through a filter of their own hatred and prejudice. You should realize this by now, rooming with two Icarals.”
“Couldn’t a different pack have different ways?” I rejoin defensively.
Jarod shakes his head tersely. “Our pack is no different from the Northern packs.”
“But, Jarod, he saw it—”
“Here’s what Aislinn’s father saw,” he says, cutting me off. “When two Lupines decide to take each other as life mates, one of them stands up and announces his or her desire to be with each other to the whole pack. The two then go off privately into the woods, and when they return, there is a joyful gathering to celebrate their union. Now, correct me if I’m mistaken, but this doesn’t seem to be all that different from your people’s traditions. Don’t you have some type of religious ceremony where couples who wish to be life mates announce their intentions before friends and family? And then the couple goes off to mate with each other afterward?”
I bite at my lip, my face coloring. It’s embarrassing to hear him talking about mating the way he and his sister do, so bluntly. But...he’s essentially right. “I guess...it’s similar, yes,” I admit.
“Except for just a few details, perhaps,” he continues, his tone clipped. “The mutual love and affection of the couple is an absolute given, or the pack would never approve of the match.” He leans back in his chair, his glowing amber eyes full of disapproval. “Aislinn’s father saw something beautiful, and twisted it into something sick and ugly, reinforcing his own unfair prejudices against us.”
I think about everything I was told about the Lupines before I got to know Jarod and Diana. How much of it was blatant lies? How much of it was twisted truth?
“That may be a fair assessment,” I finally agree.
“Hmm,” is all he says before returning to his studies.
*
“Elloren, can I speak with you?”
It’s later that same evening, and I’m still ensconced in the back of the main archives.
I look up from my pile of books and notes as Aislinn sits down across from me, her face strained, her book bag slung over one shoulder.
“What’s the matter?” My table sits near a window with a strong draft, but I’m blessedly next to a large iron stove that pumps out warmth.
“It’s Randall.” Aislinn glances around furtively before continuing, her voice low. “He doesn’t want to wait. He wants to fast to me as soon as possible.”