I lower my head into my hands and stare at the ground. Nerves dance in my stomach like butterflies taking flight. Once I give my blood, the remainder of my life is no longer mine. It belongs to the realm until the day my body becomes dirt. Probably even after that.
That’s a heavy commitment.
Although, to be honest, it’s too late in the game to change my mind now anyway. Not that I would, but to have the choice off the table is a little daunting.
The heavy steel doors to my left swing open, allowing students to step through, along with the breath of the bitter cold. A handful of Noctryns make their way over to the hearth to warm their hands, causing two Veils standing in front of the flames to turn up their noses and retreat down the hall. They must be coming in from field training to bear witness to our pledge.
I tuck my head back down and stare at my feet, tapping them in rhythm to the loud tempo of the heartbeat echoing in my ears. A dark pair of armored legs comes into view, followed by an exaggerated sigh.
“You’d make a shit spy, Caderyn,” Makon mocks in a disappointed voice.
I don’t even have to look up to know it’s him. Only one person can sound that instigating with a simple sentence.
“And you make a shit mind reader. It should be blaringly obvious that I want to be left alone,” I counter in an annoyed tone.
He taps his helmet against his leg, causing the metal to clink together. “Well, considering I can’t read minds, it would makesense I didn’t know,” he says dryly. “And considering you’re staring at the floor, I certainly can’t read any social cues you might be giving off,” he adds.
I lift my head and meet his amused expression.
“I guess I just assumed since your brother could, that you could as well,” I answer sardonically. “Read minds that is.”
He nods his head in a sympathetic gesture of understanding. It’s clearly brimming with mockery. “Well, you know what they say about assumptions. Besides, there’s a lot Kingston does that most of us cannot or will not do.” At my confused expression, he continues, “The cost is too high.”
Without another word, he turns to leave as if the conversation is done. I don’t know why, but I don’t want it to be finished. I want to know more about his brooding brother.
Color me surprised as well.
“So are you guys twins or something? Fraternal, possibly?” I ask.
He turns back around, tilting his head, a slight grin playing along his lips. “Yes and no.”
“Care to explain?”
“No,” he answers flatly. But his eyes don’t match his tone. They’re filled with mirth and mayhem.
It’s odd how similar the brothers are to each other, but also strikingly different. Same dark hair, complexion, and menacing good looks, but that’s about where the similarities end. Where Makon is feral, spontaneous, and impulsive, his brother is rigid, cold, and calculating. They certainly don’t act like twins, but they are in the same year at the academy, so, they’re close in age if not born on the same day.
My attention is diverted from Makon and directed toward the stairs where Finnley and Mallory are making their way down, arms waving in unison in my direction.
So much for remaining discreet.
The Noctryns idling by the hearth are suddenly invested as well, looking from my friends’ flailing arms back to me. Their eyes are filled with contempt, but I don’t miss the lingering curiosity as well.
“That’s my cue. See you at the ceremony,” Makon says as he tips his head in my direction, walking away, his helmet gripped loosely in his hand.
Mallory is all but dragging Finnley across the lobby toward me. He rolls his eyes but makes no move to stop her. I’ve noticed he humors her a lot. Her hair is in the usual style she favors, but bright blonde today, almost silver. Her delicate features are covered in heavy smoky makeup, giving her the appearance of a Gothic queen.
“We’re about to be legit,” she shrieks in a high-pitched tone, jumping up and down while hanging onto Finnley’s arm. His body follows suit like a puppet on strings.
“I’ve never met anyone so excited to donate their blood,” Finnley says in a dry tone.
I quirk a brow in her direction. “Especially when they have no idea just how much we’re obligated to give.”
She stops bouncing and drops his arm, staring at both of us. “Way to ruin the excitement,” she states before a scowl settles over her face. Life is like a big celebration for her. She finds the positive in everything.
Leave it to me to disillusion her.
There is only black and white in life. No in-between. Which is rather ironic, I know, considering I’m fully clothed in shades of gray and labeled as a Liminal.
