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She threw her hands up with an exasperated huff, plopping herself down on the end of my bed dramatically while kicking her perfectly manicured feet onto my pillows. She knew I had a thing against feet, which wasexactlywhy she did it. They were utterly gross. I sighed, realizing I'd have to wash my sheets tonight.
I knew I should tell her what happened. Shouldn’t someone know we may have a demon in the castle? I mean, there was no way that guy was a caster.
But something kept my mouth shut. And that something was the fact that Iknewhis eyes. And besides, he had kicked my ass so hard I was sure my intestines had replaced my esophagus. The last thing I needed was for my very best friend in the whole world to find herself entangled with someone as dangerous as that.
I looked at the bedside alarm clock, the solid red lines against the reddish-black background telling me it was just after one p.m. Ness rolled over onto her stomach, catching the panicked look on my face.
“Yeah, bitch, you better get ready. Now.”
And for once, I didn’t argue.
I tugged at the deep green satin slip that fell loosely from my shoulders, framed by the cascade of silver blond curls carefully spiraling around my cheeks and down my shoulders. I was unadorned besides the leather and copper on my wrist, the rest of my body having been scrubbed to the point where it shown pink. Even my feet were bare, a symbol of my willingness to go humbly before the guilds only as I was, without any falsity or pretense. The only object guild prospects were allowed to wear besides a simple pair of linen slacks for the men, and a satin slip for the women was a single-family heirloom if they had been granted one upon entry to the Academy. This excused my cuff and meant that the only thing I needed to worry about disguising was my eyes, which a simple pair of dark green contacts had fixed. While visible nearby, from up on the stage, the harsh lines around my irises shouldn’t be detectable to the onlookers below. A glamor would be much more convincing, but I couldn’t risk it being dissolved by the barrier around the dais.
I could hear the hum of all male voices out in the grand ballroom. The announcer's voice droned over the crowd, telling details about the prospect who had been led out before me. There was a simpering of nervous whispers behind me. At the same time, a few other girls from my class pranced back and forth on bare toes, a mix of tense excitement and nerves leaving vibrant auras of varying emotions available to my greedy palms. I wouldn’t give up the chance to absorb some much-needed essences.
I paused when a euphoric rush of warmth swept over me, potent lust wafting in through the slightly ajar door at the end of the corridor. Lust always left me feeling vibrant and seductive, my whole body humming with anticipation of a lover’s touch that I had yet to feel skirt down my skin.
But that was the last thing I needed - especially sans panties.
I pushed down my psychic tendrils and raised my multicolored barrier to block the incoming lust, careful to be sure that I had controlled any outward signs of my feast before Sister Arietta at the end of the hall pushed open the door to allow a simpering prospect back into the hallway.
I took a few steps forward, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath to calm the rising tempo in my chest. I could do this. Just one foot at a time. Spin. Step. Spin. Step. Spin. Step.
It would be over before I knew it.
For twenty-four years I had prepared for this moment in front of a room of hungry strangers. I could do this.
I waited with bated breath as Sister Arietta glanced out the door, reading the room's temperature. A plump older woman with silver streaks in her otherwise stark black hair, she was a caster of humility, who, after serving her guild for thirty years, had been given over as a tribute instructor to ensure that all the bastard test progeny of the caster elite dumped at Red Pines Academy were raised with a true example of humility.
Well - she was that the batty old sod never appeared with a hair out of place or clothed in anything but her perfectly pleated ceremonial black robes. She took piety to an extreme, her devotion to the Archangel Vitus palpable in every action. However, like most extremists, she attempted to enforce her rigid ways on everyone else around her. I was pretty sure my knuckles still bore bruises.
At once, Sister Arietta spun, grabbing my arm forcefully to shove me towards the now ajar door. I stumbled, catching myself as I was bathed in the warm glow of the candle-lit great hall. Immediately, I was assaulted with the scents of cologne and cigar smoke, mingled with various alcohols that I’m sure were as much on the floor as in the glasses that clinked noisily amongst the murmuring crowd. I momentarily paused, the overpowering waves of lust emanating from nearly every warm body I could only make out in the shadows.
My feet kicked through the heavy smoke drifting across the beautiful marble floors. I felt regretful that the room was decorated so erotically, making the aged features impossible to see. My desire to focus on the true work of art that was the room's architecture rather than the beady-looking eyes of the dozens of men beneath me clawed at my insides with disappointment.
Cautiously, I approached the first step up the dais, the dark green smoke which matched by alleged eye color concealing the full outline of the step. I was relieved when my foot hit the smooth wood, and I continued my upward trek, my confidence rising. Until only my toes caught the top of the last step as I bore down, causing my foot to slip off the step and me to go stumbling forward onto the stage, my slip riding high up my thighs until it bunched precariously below the bits I had no desire to be flashing. The excited murmurs turned to laughs as I straightened myself up, my cheeks burning with a flush I couldn’t hide.
Attempting to save whatever face I could, I smoothed out my dress, confidently taking the last few steps to the small marker on the center of the dais. I stood, my pose practiced and relaxed, head bowed just demurely enough to demonstrate obedience to the guild orders.
I counted to five, then tilted my body to look to my right and left, demonstrating the slim twist of my waist. I spun completely in a slow three-hundred-and-sixty-degree arc before moving my head side to side like a model during a photo shoot.
The earlier laughter was lost, the excited vibrations in the room becoming a buzz of sickeningly sweet temptation that did nothing to aid my roiling stomach. A couple of low whistles and calls to turn around broke over the other sounds in the room.
“Next, for your consideration, is number sixty-six. Sixty-six is a compliant, ashen blond female with class three emerald eyes. Primary specialization is generosity, class four, with secondary class three affinity for loyalty. Her primary talent is healing, but she has a command of empathy, both for human and beast, with a strong affinity for languages,” He paused, allowing me to raise my chin enough to display the emerald of the contact lenses I wore to hide the opacity of my eyes. I then lowered my face, turning this time in a counterclockwise motion, pausing briefly when I was faced away from the audience before turning again to face them, my head demurely lowered. The announcer continued,
“She is fluent in seven languages: English, French, German, Spanish, Arabic, Latin and Greek. Her academic focus has been on beast control, ancient texts, runes, creature identification, and advanced ailment detection. She has spent the last three years locally apprenticing as a warden of beasts for the Chartin coven out of Hail Springs, Alberta.”
I physically fought back the urge to roll my eyes. What a farce. Those were not my true gifts but a carefully crafted facade to hide the freak of nature I was. True, I could heal and detect others’ emotions, but I didn’t do it by any means through the traditional ways of the other casters with those gifts. And I was not of the generosity or loyalty affinities. At least not completely.
I continued to rotate my body, taking up different poses before a spark of red light caught the corner of my eye. I turned, using my sixth sense to search the crowd for the man I knew would be there. The cauldron on the stage began to flash, a call for the first round of interest slips. I should have been terrified, the anticipation of this moment eating away at my insides like a cancer prepared to spread. Instead, I found myself locked onto a glowing red aura attached to a hand that held a slip of burgundy paper between two fingers, which he released to the summoning spell in the room.
Mr. Coppertone was here, and as he had an Academy-sanctioned candidate interest slip, he was here with a guild.
A guild that was interested in me.
???
Marik
