CHAPTER THREE

I grow dizzy and unsteady on my feet. I know I want to go, but should I? Lenora will tell me not to, she is a smart Winglet, always getting good grades, always staying in line, never acting against Odon. If I go, it will be wrong—yet I want to find out what is waiting for me there. In the back of my mind I know I have already decided to accept his invitation. My conscious is still denying it.

I walk blindly through the corridors and stop in front of my room automatically. I open the door carefully and step inside. It is a small room with two sets of identical furniture and white walls to match the ones throughout the University. Two beds are pressed against the wall to the right of the door so that their ends lead out to the center of the room. Pearly soft bed coverings neatly adorn both. On the opposite wall, two square white desks sit, without a single item on either one. Each lines up with the corresponding bed to form a T, broken at the top for a walkway.

Luckily no wall possesses an Odon’s Eye, or I wouldn’t be able to sleep. It’s difficult enough with the furnishings consisting only of white. The first desk and bed are my own, and I mechanically slip the books in my hand into the top left drawer. My way is lit by the familiar spherical light fixture from the hall. Its brightness follows the stages of the sun, slowly dimming throughout the evening until it is completely off at night. The process reverts for sunrise and then begins to darken again at midday. Now it is a dull glow, almost completely out but with just enough light reflecting off the white of everything so I am able to see.

I notice Lenora in her bed. She is beneath the sheets, though I wonder if she has been sleeping or waiting for my arrival. My mind wanders inward. Dorian’s note feels heavy in my hand, and its message replays over and over in my head. “… Meet me tomorrow night …” I mouth the words in a trance of uncertainty.

What can this all mean for me? A story has begun unraveling itself, and no one must find out. Powerful risks lie ahead if I continue down this path, and yet I feel compelled to discover what destiny waits in the garden tomorrow night. The need seems to overpower any fear of defying my faith—a faith where one is born into a respect based on blood, where those below do not deserve an equal love. Do I believe such a faith? Do I dare go against it?

Lenora startles me from my thoughts. “Where were you? You know we have a test tomorrow.” She sounds angry. She doesn’t shout, just furrows her eyebrows at me, an expression I know well. Even when she is angry, Lenora’s face seems unthreatening, with large blue eyes and a delicately upturned nose. She has the pale skin of a pureblood and long flaxen hair falling in a slight wave down her back. Her lips squeeze together, turning them a bright red as she tries to look intimidating with disapproval

“I know, it’s just that I got caught up at the garden—” I look away from her gaze, certain she knows something has happened.

“Got caught up?” Lenora smiles cleverly. She is hinting for me to explain.

I hesitantly toss the note on the space next to her on the bed. I feel as though a large burden has been released from my grasp, although a heavier one remains. She unfolds it quickly, and I watch her face turn grim after reading it.

She looks up at me and speaks slowly. “Dorian … isn’t he a … a half-blood?” She spits the words out disgustedly.

I nod solemnly but say nothing.

“Oriana, what happened? What did you do?” She is furious now, and her voice is rising. She stands up from her bed and looks me straight in the eyes; we are the same height. I respond by averting them quickly. “Oriana! Don’t tell me you actually like—”

Now I look at her, astonished that she would think such a thing. “Of course not! Nothing happened. He just—we just met each other, but then Aurek came, and Dorian disappeared.”

“Aurek? Good, you should be spending more time with him anyway; he’s a good influence, you know.”

Lenora sinks back onto her bed, satisfied with the advice she has given.

“Lenora, you sound like our professors! Telling me who to hang out with …” I laugh a little without thinking.

But Lenora answers back very coldly, “What’s wrong with that?” She raises an eyebrow at me suspiciously.

“Oh calm down, I was just joking—”

She cuts me off, but I have nothing more to say anyway. I’ve said too much.

“Joking does not suit a pureblood. Honestly, Oriana, sometimes I just don’t understand you.” Lenora lies down in her bed and faces away from me, saying nothing more.

I glance at her still form once more, and it brings back a memory. We were only nine at the time, still learning the rules and regulations. We enjoyed the freedom of the playground outside the University. Segregation wasn’t as strict when we were younger, so part- and half-bloods were allowed to play alongside the purebloods.

Lenora had her eye on a particular part-blood. He was certainly a handsome boy, with dirty-blond hair and hazel eyes. She was positively smitten. On one occasion when they were sitting beside one another on the swings, Lenora leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. Being at such an age of innocence, the two couldn’t help giggling over it.

Unfortunately, a nearby professor had witnessed the event and immediately took them both by the arm and dragged them away. The part-blood boy vanished, and Lenora returned forever changed. Now she never relates to Winglets other than purebloods. And she never thinks of much besides her studies. She acts as though she wants me to be more like her. But sometimes I feel that it’s more the other way around. There is a fear that goes deep inside her. Something they did to her put it there, a fear that ensures she will never defy the faith again. But I may never know what took place that day, so many years ago. She does not speak of it. Any scars are embedded far below the skin, never to surface.

A shiver goes through my body as I slip into the softness of the sheets and place my head upon my pillow. The warmth is a temporary distraction from my thoughts, but my mind pushes through my comfort. Who can I trust? A friend who follows the teachings? A friend who is only a friend when it suits the University? No, I can’t settle for ignorance. Whatever rules are broken, whatever risks will be taken, I need to go.

My stomach turns over as my decision is finally made. I feel exposed with the thoughts in the forefront of my mind. As if they are visible to the outside world. I roll onto my stomach and push my forehead into the pillow, hoping the fabric will absorb my memories and allow me to sleep peacefully. Time is passing as I lie awake, Odon knows how long. I turn onto my side and then onto my back. After a few more positions, I end up on my side again and finally fall asleep. I wake with the coming of morning less than refreshed.

I’m moving through school today, but I’m barely remembering what is happening. As I sit in history class, my professor sees I am not paying attention. My mind is wandering and tossing over decisions back and forth. I can’t accept what I’ve decided to do. Should I trust myself? I want to see that boy again, but I know it is wrong, unheard of, frowned upon—no … worse.

The professor calls upon me. “Oriana please, what have you to say?”

I jolt straight up in my seat. “I’m sorry, sir, what was the question?”

He looks at me curiously. The students around me whisper to each other and shake their heads. Lenora does the same.

“Silence!” he says sternly, and the whispering stops. “Why were you not listening, Oriana?”

I try to swallow the lump in my throat. I shouldn’t have let this half-blood control me, I shouldn’t have taken interest, but it is too late. “I was thinking, sir.” The words get caught in my throat, but they are still spoken, and I regret them as soon as they come out.

“Oriana, you should be concentrating on classes. Do you need to go to the Odonian?”

The word stabs at me, deep into the open wound of fear.

The Odonians are an elite rank of professors, all pureblood. They are appointed directly by Odon himself and assure that all students follow the teachings of Odon exactly. There is one at our University for each race and rank. I must not get sent. I would have no choice but to attend. And then? Dangers beyond my imagination lie in the office of an Odonian, that even my terror cannot conjure up.

“No, sir.” I look down at my desk, willing my release from further interrogation.

“Are you certain?” The professor raises a thick and wiry eyebrow, a peppered gray and light brown. Such an act, however minuscule, leads me to hate him immediately. He is a part-blood; all the professors are, except the Odonians. In fact, I’ve never seen a grown pureblood. They leave after the Rebirth. This particular part-blood is well liked, a devoted servant to Odon, but he will always be a part-blood, no matter how impeccable his record is. And for that reason his students will never respect him. An anger such as I’ve never felt before consumes me. I want to yell and push him down! He is below me! He has no right to speak as though he is better. He is worthless, middle-class, impure!

My hatred is growing now. I struggle to nod in answer to his question. I dare not speak and reveal the anger in my voice. He turns his back to the class. I calm down, but I am trembling with chills of pent-up spite. It’s all I can do to maintain my composure. I breathe. In, then out, control, steady pace, in, then out. The air rushing through my lungs cools my nerves. Eyes straight ahead. I cannot be sent to the Odonian; survival depends on that. I keep myself from looking at his face. Just listen to his words. I must protect myself. I must not show these changes these … emotions.