He looks every bit as sexy as I remember.
“Sexy East is your guide,” Kelly whispers, and I give her a look that says ‘shut up’, and she smiles for a second. I haven’t seen him in two years, not since he came here. Easton walks over to me at the same time I stand up. Neither of us speaks as we follow the man in the green cloak out of the room through a door near the stage. We come into another corridor with four wooden doors. The man opens the first door to the left and walks in.
“Please wait outside, Mr. Black,” the man says and Easton nods, moving to stand near the wall, but his eyes stay on mine.
“Good luck, Kenzie,” Easton says, his first words to me. Easton’s voice is made for seduction. Growing up, he always had a way with girls because of his good looks and deep voice. His voice sends shivers through me that I can’t blame on being cold.
I walk into the small room and pull the door shut behind me. The room has a big, wooden desk and two seats on each side. There are two small bookcases full of books and some green curtains on the small window in the room. I take my seat, as the cloaked man pulls his hood down and moves to his chair behind the desk. The man is older than I expected from his voice, with short, grey hair and a full, grey beard. I would guess his age at around fifty.
“I’m Mr. Lockhart, one of the three headteachers at the academy. Mr. Daniels told me of your marks that you received today. I believe he saw the twelfth?” he says.
“Yes,” I say, and he nods at me.
“May I see it?” he asks, already standing up, leaving me with not much choice but to show him the mark as he walks around the desk.
“Sure,” I reply, lifting my hair. Mr. Lockhart moves behind my chair, and the room seems to stay still for a long time as he stares at my mark. I wait quietly until he moves back to his seat and leans back in shock.
“I am lost for words, Miss Crowe. I’m sure you know that no marked has been gifted with the twelfth mark in years. The only reason we know it exists, is because it is in the Book of Marks,” he says. I remember one of my dads telling me about the Book of Marks; a large book bound in leather and printed on vellum. A book with just twelve thick pages, each with a different mark on it. The book is thousands of years old, and it’s believed that it came from Ariziadia, like the water in the cave under the academy.
“Does the book say what the mark does? What my power is?” I ask him, but I think I know the answer.
“Unfortunately, the book does not tell us what the powers of the marks are. It only shows us the design,” he answers, picking up his glasses from the table. I don’t say a word as he opens a book and pulls out a blank timetable. He quickly pencils in classes across the week. “These are your eleven classes. I have split them over the course of the week for you, but I’m afraid you will not get much time off other than Sunday.”
“Eleven classes?” I say, my voice a mixture of anger and disbelief. I can’t do that many. I’m suddenly wishing I only got one mark. At least, I’d only have to take one class.
“Yes, you will need to take all eleven. We will split them into two classes a day in the week and just one on Saturday,” he says writing down a copy of this unfair plan of his on some paper in front of him. “I’m afraid you will not get to pick any elective classes either, due to already having to take all eleven of the mark classes.”
“That’s—” I start to say, but he cuts me off.
“Necessary for you to learn how to control all your powers. Having so many mark powers will be a challenge for you, and you do not want to lose control,” he tells me.
I think on the stories I’ve heard about powerful marked that lost control . . . they always ended up dead. The bedtime stories for marked children were never pretty, but neither were the stories in the book of human fairy tales aunt Laura gave me. The only difference is, our bedtime stories were true.
“How long are each of the classes?” I ask, dreading the answer.
“Three and a half hours,” he answers. I groan, sliding down in my seat.
You have got to be kidding me.
Chapter 3
Kenzie
I let my towel drop and gaze at my reflection in the full-length mirror, more specifically at the markings that now cover my body. I’ve always wondered where my markings would appear, how many I’d have, and what they’d look like on my skin. I can’t help but think of them being more than just pretty ink on my skin. The meaning behind all of the symbols is clear. From the fire and water symbols on my wrists, to the earth and air symbols on my ankles. On my thighs on one side is pain, and on the other is healing. My hip bones, one is technomancy, the other transmutation. On my ribs is the symbol for protection, right under my heart on the left side.
I turn around and look over my shoulder, looking at the symbols on my back. Divination near the top, spirit on the base of my spine. Mark number twelve is on my neck, the one nobody knows about; I’m not even sure what to call it. I sigh and pick my towel up from the floor, wrapping it around myself. A knock hits the door, startling me, so I almost drop my towel again.
“Kenzie?” I hear Kelly’s soft-spoken voice calling.
“Yeah?”
“Are you gonna take all day? I wanted a shower and breakfast starts in ten minutes.” I cast a guilty look between the shower and the door. She’d have luck getting any more hot water out of there.
“Can you have one later? I’m almost done, but I wanna go get food now. I’m starving,” I call back through the door. I can see her eyes rolling in my mind as she sighs loudly and dramatically.
“Fine, Kenzie. But, if I get sat next to a hottie, and he thinks I’m a weird, non-showering hobo, I’m blaming you.”
“Fair,” I call back. I quickly pull on some clothes and towel dry my wet hair, forgoing makeup. I make my way back out into the room where Kelly is just brushing her own hair, already dressed and ready to go. She’s looking stylishly dressed, and her makeup is perfectly done. Non-showering hobo my ass.
“You only said you wanted a shower to hurry me up, didn’t you,” I accuse.
“Maybe . . . but it worked, right?” she replies with a smirk, clearly much cheerier today.
“What classes do you have today?” I ask, slipping my shoes on.
“Just the one. I haven’t had the chance to sign up for electives yet, and I only have two required classes,” she says, her voice losing its previously cheery tone.
“Hey, it’s okay, at least you can pick some fun electives! I’ve got eleven classes of boring,” I answer.
“Yeah, I guess,” she says, her eyes not meeting mine.
“Well, you can just pick whatever electives the hot guys sign up for, is that not a great idea? Suss out your boyfriend options early?”