Flickers of Flame Page 9

  Unless…

  Unless she was in on it. Maybe it was some twisted game between the two of them. It had been her decision to leave the pool game last night. What if it was a move to isolate Nate and me? And did that mean Thor and Bridger were in on it, too?

  My stomach heaved, the acid from the sweet juice drink churning violently. I was going to be sick.

  I needed to get out of here. Suddenly, the opulent viewing room felt void of air. If I didn’t escape soon, I was sure I would suffocate.

  I stood, my head spinning. Pressing a hand to my stomach, I stumbled forward. I kept my head down and my eyes glued to the door I’d entered through, my only thought to put as much distance between myself and the stadium as possible.

  I thought I heard voices calling my name as I pushed open the door, but I ignored them. There was nothing anyone could say right now that could make any of this okay.

  Chapter Twelve

  Pounding on my door shook me from my tumultuous thoughts.

  I wasn’t sure how much time had elapsed since I arrived back in my room. I sat on my bed, back pressed to the wall, knees pulled to my chest. It shouldn’t have surprised me to be betrayed by angels. I knew too well their tendency to look out only for themselves. Hadn’t I known last night that anything between Nate and me couldn’t last?

  But somehow it didn’t make it sting any less.

  My head ached in a full, all-encompassing way that only intensified with each rap against the door.

  “Eden? Are you in there? What’s wrong? Open the door.”

  Clio’s frantic tone was clear even though the thick wood separating us. When I didn’t respond, she started pounding again.

  “Go away!” I winced, rubbing my forehead as the pain there intensified.

  “What’s wrong?” she repeated. “Are you sick? The boys weren’t keeping track of how many glasses of tirosh you had. Let me in. I’ve got water—and something for your head.”

  My pulse pounded against my skull. Why was she being so nice to me still? I couldn’t face her—not if there was the slightest chance she hadn’t been in on Nate’s deception. She needed to know the truth, but I didn’t want to be the one to break it to her.

  “I’m fine,” I lied. “I just… I want to be alone.”

  She was quiet for so long I assumed she had gone. When her voice came again, it was low and quiet. “I’ll go because you want me to, but I don’t think you’re fine. If you need me, you know where my room is.”

  I took measured breaths in and out, waiting for her to say something else, but nothing came. I swung my legs off my bed, biting my lower lip as my headache swelled. Doing my best to ignore the pain, I crossed the room to the door, unlocked it, and cracked it open.

  True to her word, Clio had gone. The hall outside my room was empty but for a tall glass of water and a square paper napkin topped with two oval-shaped pills.

  Even when I wanted nothing to do with her, it was Clio’s nature to be caring.

  I thought about leaving her offering at the door, but doing so would say more about me than about her. I popped the pills into my mouth and swallowed them before the door had closed behind me. Tirosh. The pounding headache made sense now. My dabbling with alcohol—all under Derek’s direct influence—had been limited to shekar. His friend Canaan Boyd made it in an old bathtub, and he used to sneak it into the library from time to time. The liquid had burned against my throat, and it was so bitter I couldn’t drink more than a couple of ounces before turning down the rest. Marco caught us once and forbade Canaan from stepping foot inside the library again. He mentioned to me later that he would have told Derek not to hang out with him at all, except he was certain such an order would only make Canaan’s friendship more appealing to Derek.

  I wasn’t even sure they sold tirosh in stores in Cameron Heights. No one living there could afford it, and it might tempt some to steal it. The only alcohol I’d seen in corner markets was mesek, a watered-down product flavored with spices.

  I drained the glass and set it on the nightstand as I climbed into bed. With any luck, the medicine would curb my headache and I could get some sleep. I would awake with the same problem facing me, but at least then, maybe, I could think clearly about how to handle it.

  It felt as though I had barely drifted off when a noise jerked me awake. My eyes snapped open, but no view greeted them. The room was dark and quiet. I must have been asleep longer than I thought; night had fallen, leaving my surroundings cloaked in shadow.

  I checked the digital readout of the clock on my bedside table. Twelve thirty. A few short nights ago, I would have been well into a clandestine training session with Nate. Now, just thinking about him filled me with a darkness I couldn’t name.

  I rolled over, prepared to attempt to reclaim sleep, when a series of three quick taps sounded through the air. My eyes snapped open again, all vestiges of sleep gone. I threw off my covers and crossed the room. Hadn’t Clio got the message earlier that I didn’t want to talk to anyone? I curled my fingers around the knob and pulled open the door to give her a piece of my mind—except no one was there.

  The taps sounded again, and I whipped around until my eyes landed on the only other place they could be coming from.

  The window.

  Closing the door behind me, I crept across the floor. A pale square of light outlined the window through the curtains. Cautiously, I parted the fabric and peered at the ground below, but there was nothing out there.

  I sighed. All I needed was for my mind to start playing tricks on me.

  “Eden?”

  I yelped as Nate’s face appeared at the bottom of my window. It shouldn’t be possible—my room was on the third floor. I blinked, positive I must be hallucinating.

  “Can you open up?” His muffled voice strained with effort. I could now see his fingers gripping the stone ledge outside the window.

  “What are you doing?” I hissed. He squinted, shaking his head like he couldn’t hear me. I glanced behind me, half expecting someone to come pounding on my door to see what my earlier cry had been about. Although the other girls in the dorm all appeared to be strict adherents to the lights-out-at-ten rule, staying in one’s room didn’t necessarily equal being asleep.

  Against my better judgment, I cracked open the window so I wouldn’t have to raise my voice. “How did you get up here?”

  “I climbed,” he said as if it should be obvious. “And it’s actually harder than it looks, so if you don’t mind…”

  Before I could react, Nate pushed a hand through the window’s opening and shoved the sash up far enough to allow for his body to pass through. Within thirty seconds, he had shimmied his way through the opening and was standing in front of me.

  There were so many things I wanted to say that my brain stuttered as it tried to grasp onto one. I needed to confront him about Clio, about how he had lied to me. I was desperate to know why. But all that came out was, “Why are you here?”

  “You disappeared. By the time I got up to the box after my tryout, you were gone and Thor and Bridger had no idea where you were. I tried to leave—to find you—but the chancellor wouldn’t let me out of his sight.” His lip curled at the mention of Isaiah Kingston, and, despite myself, a twinge of camaraderie twisted in my chest. “I had to be there for when the colonel announced which students she selected.” The corner of his mouth quirked upward. “They picked you, by the way—although Shonda was lobbying hard for them to disqualify you because you weren’t there.”

  With all the pointed questions jumbling in my head, I latched onto the simplest one. “Was Shonda selected?”

  He nodded. “And the Keepers and four others. Ten of us in total. During dinner, Colonel Zagar pulled us all into a small dining room to give the broad strokes of the mission. As soon as she released us, Clio came to check on you—but she told me you wouldn’t open the door.”

  I folded my arms over my chest, turning away from him. So he’d been talking to Clio about me. “I told her
I wanted to be alone.”

  He sidestepped until he was in front of me again. “What’s going on? It’s clear something’s bothering you.” He reached forward, brushing some errant hairs off my forehead. “Talk to me.”

  The gentleness of his touch set off a cascade of tingles on my skin. How could I still respond to him like this when I knew the truth? “If you want someone to talk to, might I recommend your fiancée?”

  Nate took a step back, wincing like the word caused him physical pain. “Oh, no.”

  The last tiny thread of hope within me snapped. Some part of me had been sure Nate would deny it, that my outburst would baffle him. But the guilt on his face spoke of a man caught in the act. “Really? That’s all you’ve got to say for yourself? How could you do this? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  He held up his hands helplessly. “I thought you knew. It isn’t exactly a secret.” He squeezed his eyes closed, sighing. “Remember at breakfast when I said we needed to talk?”

  I snorted. “That’s convenient.”

  “It’s also the truth.” He ran both hands through his inky hair before taking two strides and sitting on the edge of my mattress. “To be honest, the engagement happened so long ago I don’t ever think about it. And since it seems like everyone I come in contact with knows, it never occurred to me that you didn’t. Not until last night—when I thought I heard someone in the student center. You were… so calm about the thought of us being caught. And it hit me that the only way you wouldn’t be worried is if you had no idea there was a reason to be worried.”

  I studied his face. Even now, despite knowing the truth, part of me wanted to believe him. The anguish in his eyes seemed real enough, and it penetrated the icy wall I’d been building up around my heart. “It doesn’t matter whether I knew. You knew. You knew you weren’t free, but you kissed me anyway.”

  He patted the mattress beside him and my body lurched forward before I could fully think through the consequences. I sat as far away from him as possible, but enough moonlight filtered in through the still-open curtains that I could make out the lines of his face. “What I said last night is true—I like you, Eden. A lot. And it’s wonderful—and terrifying. I… I never knew it was possible to feel like this for someone. My parents…” He pressed his lips into a tight line before sighing. “They treat each other like colleagues. When they can stand to be in the same room, that is. I don’t remember the last time the three of us were together. And to hear them talk about each other—it’s all transactional. A business marriage of convenience that benefited them both.” He scowled. “I don’t know if you realize this, but when the Ignis Blade chose Clio, it caused a lot of upset in the community.”

  My conversation with Maisie bubbled to the front of my mind. “Because she’s a Messenger angel.”

  He nodded. “People went ballistic. There was a whole contingent who saw Clio being chosen as a sign that the time of the Keepers was over. Before I was chosen, Antonio was the only Keeper for almost forty years. When the Aura Blade picked me, people celebrated. For the next five years, they went on and on about how exciting it was to have such a young Keeper. They saw it as a sign that the glory days of the Blades was returning. But when those same people found out Clio was a Messenger, they turned on her, on me, on everything. There was a lot of talk of disbanding us altogether—of locking up the Eternity Blades and relegating them to the history books. After all, if the Blades were picking lesser angels as warriors, their time must be long over.” He spat out the last bit, making it clear he disagreed wholeheartedly with the sentiment.

  Although I worried about slipping into territory that would be common knowledge to angels, I couldn’t help asking, “Why would they see Messenger as lesser?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine,” he said with a shrug. “I mean, you’ve seen Clio fight. She can hold her own against anyone. Three of the cadets chosen for the mission are Messenger-class—which means there are only four Warrior angels going.”

  I did the math in my head. Nate had said there were ten selected altogether. “And the others?”

  He pressed his lips together as if afraid he’d said too much. “Look, it’s not my place to tell—but I trust you.” He blew out a breath. “After all the drama that went down when Clio became a Blade Keeper, they changed the way they ran the trials. They wanted to keep the lineage of new Keepers under wraps. I mean, they started letting Messenger-class angels into Blakethorne, but even then at super-low numbers. They were afraid if more Keepers were Messengers, there’d be a bigger push to admit more of them into Blakethorne.”

  I tried to follow the thread of his logic. “But you said they only chose three Messengers for the field experience. Three plus four isn’t ten.”

  “Didn’t you ever wonder why part of your admission paperwork included a non-disclosure agreement about your family and your lineage? It’s not something we’re supposed to talk about. If the community at large found out, there’s no telling how they would react.” He leaned forward, although there was no one around to overhear us. “Bridger—he’s fallen, like you. And Thor is nephilim.”

  His words sent my mind spinning. Thor was half human? Bridger—confident, cocky Bridger—wasn’t a full-blood Warrior? When I signed the papers, Headmaster Kemp had cited the possibility that people with an axe to grind might target a Keeper’s family as the reason for them to be kept under wraps. But if what Nate was saying was true, there was a darker reason: the powers that be didn’t want anyone to know their precious Keepers came from inferior angelic stock.

  “There are those in the senate who believe if we let fallen angels and nephilim into the academy, everything we’ve built will dissolve into anarchy and chaos,” Nate said, his voice still low. “So as far as everyone else knows, Clio is an outlier—the only non-Warrior Keeper.”

  At the mention of her name, the real reason for our conversation asserted itself in my mind. “Clio. Your fiancée.”

  “Since I was thirteen.” He reached across the void between us as if thinking of taking my hand, but he stopped halfway, letting his arm fall onto the mattress. “It had been months since Clio was selected as Keeper, and there were protests. Parents threatened to pull their kids from Blakethorne if the headmaster let Clio attend. The chancellor had run on a platform encouraging inclusion among ethereals, but this was too much for some people to accept. People called for him to be removed from office. And then the plan was born.” He smiled ruefully. “Nothing quenches hate like love. People hated Clio because they felt like she was stepping out of her place. They needed a reason to love her.”

  The dots connected in my mind. “They already loved you.”

  He nodded. “They felt like they knew me. They’d been watching me grow up for years. When I lost Antonio, they mourned with me. And I liked Clio. She was… Well, the same as she is now. The kindest soul you’ll ever meet—but also fierce. And, really, the first friend I’d had since I became a Keeper. So when they came to me with the plan and explained that it would help people to like Clio—to see her the way I did, I agreed. Even that young, I figured if I married at all, it would be an arrangement like the one with my parents—and at least I enjoyed being around Clio.”

  I snorted, shaking my head. “I can’t believe your parents were okay with that.”

  The corner of his mouth tugged upward, and he dropped his chin to his chest, sighing. “I really have to stop assuming everyone knows everything about my life. Of course my parents were okay with it. My father’s the chancellor.”

  My jaw dropped. “Your father…”

  “Is Isaiah Kingston. Yeah. Kouri is my mom’s last name.”

  I blinked several times as I attempted to assimilate the new information. Nate waited a few moments before continuing.

  “Almost as soon as we made the announcement, public sentiment shifted. People stopped clamoring for the chancellor’s dismissal. The protests ended. Calls from fringe groups about letting more Messenger angels into Blakethorne gained tra
ction in the mainstream. With one move, everything settled down, and people looked at things differently.”

  “Optics,” I murmured. All the fight that had been building in me evaporated. Somehow, something that had seemed so unthinkable minutes ago suddenly made sense. But there were still things left unanswered. “Do you want to marry her?”

  “Would you believe me if I said I’ve never really thought about it?” He offered a half smile. “It sounds weird to even admit. But back when I first agreed to it, it seemed too far away to be real. For maybe the first six months, Clio would sit me down once a week so we could have very in-depth talks about things like the menu and the guest list and what our colors would be.” He chucked at the memory. “Even then, it felt like we were playing dress-up. But those conversations became fewer and further between until they stopped altogether a couple years back. To be honest, our engagement didn’t cross my mind until… you.”

  My throat went dry. “Me?”

  “Until the night of your welcoming banquet, to be exact. When the two of us were making the rounds together, it occurred to me that I should spend some time with Clio. Senators always want photo ops with the two of us. It took me a minute to remember why a photo with me and you wouldn’t be just as valuable to them.”

  I recalled the night—how confident I felt with Nate at my side, how my skin flushed and my heart raced as we danced to song after song. The verbal reprimand he’d received from the chancellor. His father. It made so much more sense.

  But even though things were becoming clearer the more Nate explained, I still had questions. “So, what happens now?”

  He sighed, his shoulders sagging. “I’m not sure.”

  Although I hadn’t expected an intricately planned answer, I had been hoping for something more. Still, I supposed I couldn’t exactly blame him for not knowing what to do. His engagement to Clio hadn’t been the product of young lovers jumping into a commitment before they were ready, and the political powers that be probably wouldn’t take too kindly to him taking a hammer to their carefully laid plans.