CHAPTER SIX

Of course, why didn’t I think of this? Why did I think it would be so easy? That I could just rush out into the dark completely unharmed and then return as swiftly as I came, completely undetected, and that everything would be okay?

It isn’t so easy, and the resounding horn endlessly piercing the silence is enough proof of that. I stand waiting to be captured. Waiting for the cold metal to come crashing down on my skull and bring me into a darkness of peace far from the white lights. Let it just be over with.

I feel the warmth of a hand clasp my wrist firmly. They’re taking me, bringing me to the Odonian, to the punishment. Why did I go through with it? Why couldn’t I be happy with how things were? Then the unexpected happens. My arm is tugged sharply, and I’m half thrown into a shadow cast by the line of square bushes hugging the University walls.

Now hidden from the light, I release a pent-up breath and appear to deflate. An arm grasps me tightly, and a hand fastens over my mouth. Somehow whatever danger I currently face seems to be less threatening now that I’ve escaped the white, now that the guards will not find me.

They will not expect me to hide. Who would have thought to anyway? The idea of rebelling against a just punishment is unthinkable. I myself would have submitted willingly if I hadn’t been forced into hiding. I realize I’m a criminal against my own way of life, my only home.

The guards arrive at the door somewhat dumbfounded. If their pale, lifeless faces could actually express the emotion. I watch silently through the shadows, through the leaves and branches. It is not hard to see them in the bright light, dressed in the white uniform. I myself stood out in the night only seconds ago. But now my robes have been cloaked by the darkness, welcomed into the black so that I’ve become one of her children.

Beneath me a chest rises and falls. Hot breath brushes the nape of my neck and I can feel the warmth of a living body. The dark conceals this being as well, and now this dark becomes a thing to fear. I no longer wish to hide, to be sightless; now I am suddenly aware of this new danger.

The guards have not ventured far from the light, and like moths they hurry back to it in hunger. Have the other students awakened? Did Lenora open her eyes to find me missing? There is no time to wonder. No sooner does the door shut than I have slipped quickly from the arm that binds me. The hand still holds my wrist, and I wrench fiercely as if it is on fire.

“Oriana,” come the hissing words, “it’s me!”

I stop and then squint my eyes as if it might help me see through the darkness. “Dorian?” A whisper, but it sounds so loud, and it feels like ages since I’ve heard my own voice.

In the darkness it is impossible to see his face, but the voice is recognizable, and the familiar smell that I realize had always been lingering leads me to identify him.

“How did you find me?” I ask, keeping my voice low.

“I was about to go inside, lucky for you,” he answers smartly.

A silence follows as we slip through the line of bushes. With no sign of wind, the rustle of our feet and bodies against the leaves becomes the only sound. We escape the cover of foliage and pad down the hillside of damp grass. He leads me to the garden, his hand still clutching my wrist, but I do not fight its hold. A sense of calm settles over me, even more so than during my usual walks to the garden.

I know this trip is far more dangerous, yet I am relieved to feel the lack of eyes upon me. The night encloses my face, my body, everything that shows my identity. I am someone else, a nameless shadow.

The walls of the garden loom above us before I realize we’ve come this far. Now that I’ve reached it, now that I have accomplished my goal and I am with him—what comes next? I’ve merely wondered how I might escape the University, how to reach this very spot. When I finally place my feet upon the soft ground and face the entrance to a night much darker than I thought possible, I hesitate. The garden walls seem less inviting in the dark, resembling a square jaw awaiting my entrance before snapping shut on me. Is this what I wanted? Would I have come, knowing it would lead to this?

Dorian feels a tug on our linked hands when he tries to move onward into the garden. It is hard to determine clearly, but by the faint moonlight I can see his head turn to glance behind. I recover and follow, knowing nothing worthwhile waits for me back in my dormitory. Knowing that turning back can only mean digression, returning to a life that will leave me unsatisfied.

I pass through the shadows of the foliage and emerge once again beneath the night sky. I realize now that the garden is no darker than the outside air; that considerable blackness grips only the entrance. In fact the slate pathway catches the glint of the moon, which gives the rocks a soft glow that brightens the entire garden.

Dorian steps on the first slate, and the slab goes dark in his shadow. I wriggle my wrist in earnest, as it is awkward to follow from behind. He drops it quickly as if just now realizing that he is still holding it.

A deep intake of breath greets me with the smell of those sweet golden flowers, in neat rows with their constant shining smiles. I want to be those flowers, always happy, always carefree: a race of beautiful perfection.

We reach the familiar stone seat, and I lower myself upon it. The rock is cold, much colder than the night, and I hug myself, waiting for it to absorb my body heat.

Dorian stands beside me watching, his blue eyes glowing like two moons in the night of his black hair. At last he speaks.“Why are you up so late? And sneaking around the school like a felon?” He grins when I give him a glare.

“You invited me; don’t you remember?” I look down at my feet; the thought encourages a blush upon my cheeks. I have admitted to arriving at his bidding alone. But it wasn’t just the letter, “What you said … before. Tell me what you know.”

He sits down next to the flowers and leans back, propping himself on his elbows, “You want to know? About what?”

“About what’s happening to me …”

He thinks about this for a moment and then gets up and sits beside me on the bench, “About your feelings?” he asks, his face close to mine.

He kisses me and then pulls back slightly. “What do you feel?”

“I don’t—”

He kisses me again, and I sink into the bench.

“Oriana …”

“Yes?” I barely respond, but he hears me, we are so close.

“Tell me.”

He attempts to kiss me again, but I pull back.

“What—what are you doing?” I gather my thoughts. “What are you trying to prove?”

He looks at me, his eyes showing an emotion that I have never witnessed before, and yet I know what it represents. I am shocked into a memory.

I’m sitting, a young girl, too young to determine what’s right, a young girl not yet understanding womanhood. We are alone hidden in an alcove of a hallway. I can’t remember the day, time or reason for us meeting. Aurek smiles broadly, like a glutton, like a greedy glutton. His hand is bound tightly around my arm. It hurts a little, it’s uncomfortable, but I don’t move or try to pull away. I’m thinking this is right, that this should be happening, but my own mind is telling me it is wrong.

I remember pulling away from that kiss and seeing his eyes. Blue eyes, filled with victory, filled with triumph and my own I know are filled with nothing.

Dorian looks at me, concern embedded deeply in his features, and the bitter memory has etched itself upon my own. His eyes are the same color as Aurek’s, but they are so different.

“What’s wrong?”

Then my tears are streaming in an endless blinding flood. Has it ever happened before? I can’t remember the last time I cried, and it feels so good. Dorian’s arms encircle me and I try not to feel ashamed, the touch is so unusual. I discover soon that any efforts to hold back the tears are useless. Yet although I can’t end them, I make sure not a sound escapes my lips. It seems I can lose no more of myself. I am no longer the Oriana I have known. Or has she always been lying just below the surface?