CHAPTER FOURTEEN

I shade my eyes as they adjust to the light of the sun. It seems to burn more brightly than ever before. When I am able to fully see, I drop my hand, eyes wide, taking in colors I have never witnessed before. We’re in a garden, except it is wild, untamed. The trees tower far above the trimmed foliage of the University. They are not set in a row but have instead sprouted at will. Along the ground grows an array of soft moss, some in deep emerald, some in blue tones, in a variety of textures.

I gasp at the sight of a small flower tucked beneath the shade of a stately pine. It is a beautiful tint of pink, the color of the setting sun. I kneel to examine it and notice that at its center is a deep crimson. I reach to graze its delicate petals but withdraw, not wanting to damage its purity.

“Come, it’s not safe to rest here.” Dorian calls to me, breaking some connection I was unaware of beforehand. I turn to respond and find that I am seeing him for the first time. The sun seems to make everything clearer. I’ve seen him only either in shadows or the intense glare of the University. I never saw him like this.

His hair is disarranged and intertwining like the branches of the forest canopy. His eyes are blue and sharp, nothing reflecting in them. Instead they have become deep wells absorbing the nature around them. His expression seems to have matured since I last saw him. Maybe it has been happening all along, yet now I see he is no longer the smiling boy I first met. Something is aging him faster than time.

I look past him to examine Azura, a girl whose unique features were hidden in the darkness of the cave and then distorted by the light of flames. She has slanted green eyes and long brown hair that curls into unruly ringlets. She presses her pink lips together and glares at me. Somehow I know this look will become familiar.

The young stranger beside her does not look back. I feel uneasy about his presence but decide to remain silent. He is after all one of my rescuers.

I get to my feet and hurry after them. We head into the woods, moving as quickly as we can manage, weaving in and out of branches and bushes. I marvel at the many different species of plants.

Above is a sharp cry that startles me, and I look up to find the silhouette of a bird, its wings are spread, allowing sunlight to glisten through. I yearn for its freedom, its beauty and mastery of the sky, yet I know it will never come to pass.

Soon we’ve put many layers of forest between us and the cave’s exit. We start up a hill, determined to put it even deeper in the past. As we reach the crest, Dorian and the stranger together guide Azura to the base of a fruit tree and help her sit on a large boulder.

As the part-blood turns to face me, I see that his hair is a deep auburn. Not the brilliant red I saw in the cave’s firelight, but the deep red of blood. He looks up at me, noticing my gaze and I see that his eyes hold the same color.

I realize how strained my muscles are as I take a seat on the mossy ground. I let out a sigh of relief. Leaning back against the trunk of the tree I gaze up into its fruit-laden branches. Red ripened spheres ornament the teardrop leaves, some still green in places where they have not reached their peak. Hidden among the green leaves are smaller orbs, healthy, fresh, and awaiting their time to drop.

“Would you like some?”

I notice Dorian kneeling beside me. He holds a plump fruit before me, offering a chance to taste its sweetness. I nod, and he grasps both ends of the fruit, twisting in opposite directions to split it open. Juice escapes down his wrist as he hands me one half, the white center gleaming temptingly on top. I take it gently, first watching Dorian take a large bite and then hazarding a taste myself. It is much richer than the bland, gritty foods I am used to. I’ve only read about the fruit of trees. As I swallow the sweet center, I feel as though I’ve been accepted by the forest. My white robes take on the white of the fruit, the white of blooming flowers or the birds singing to the sun.

“Are they going to meet us here?” Azura asks between bites of fruit, which she retrieved from a branch overhead. “They can’t expect us to walk all the way back by ourselves; we’re already exhausted.”

Dorian stands to his full height and stretches his arms over his head before tossing the core of his fruit into the nearby foliage. “I was hoping they would be here already …”

Just then, Dorian’s fruit core hurtles toward him from behind and hits the back of his skull. He flinches, rubbing the sore spot and turning to face the source. “I guess I spoke too soon.”

Then he smiles as the branches part to reveal a man of great height whose face glows triumphantly. He is followed by a young boy and a girl, clearly chuckling over the recent jest. The tall man approaches Dorian, grabs his hand, and claps him on the back in welcome.

“I see you’ve made it in one piece,” he says in a deep commanding tone. His rich chestnut eyes twinkle with humor. They are shadowed by sandy curled hair that reaches below his ears, and as he steps further into the light, I notice his wide grin displays two charismatic dimples. He is older than Dorian and I, but still fairly young.

My mind automatically labels him as a part-blood. In fact, the others are part-blooded as well, all with shades of brown hair. As they approach Azura and the other part-blood in greeting, I’m awkwardly drawn to Dorian’s side, not sure where I belong among these new people. I wish to contact his arm and feel the warmth of his skin. I begin to realize that he is from this completely different world and just as much a stranger as the others. Instead I hover, one hand extended noncommittally from my side.

The tall part-blood’s attention turns to me, and I fear I will be trapped in his gaze. But his look is comforting, and he regards me with compassion, something that will take a while to get used to.

“So this is the Winglet.” He takes my hesitating hand into his darker one. It is warm like his eyes. Looking deeply into mine he kisses it. I pull it, as politely as possible, away and gain the courage to reach out and take Dorian’s. A heat rises in my cheeks as I study the ground.

I smile and venture, “My name is Oriana; what might yours be?” meeting his eyes once my face cools.

“She speaks! Oriana? Yes I know, but until now I didn’t realize how well it suits you. I am Tor.” I have never met a part-blood like Tor before. He is so alive and confident in his skin.

I’m not sure what he means, but I smile at him, hoping he will accept it as my own attempt at friendship.

I see him give a wink to Dorian before addressing the entire group. “I suppose we should hurry home, before the dark settles.”

There is a murmur of agreement as the young boy goes to assist Azura to her feet, the red-haired man already beside her and helping as well. The small girl makes her way to where Dorian and I are standing. She has large black eyes and wavy dark brown hair, not quite black.

I have never seen a part-blood Finlet before; in fact, I only once saw a pureblood Finlet, a young girl somehow lost in the Winglet playground. Our elementary schools contained both races, with only a thin barrier between us. Her skin was a deep shade of tan, and she had flowing, silky black hair and eyes that were as black as their pupils. I remember how she was teased, her hair pulled with distaste for something the children had never seen before. The poor girl was in tears before an Odonian had corrected things.

The girl before me resembles her in many ways but cannot be pureblood. The lighter aspects of Winglets have leaked out into her hair and skin, although her eyes could not be any darker. I am hoping my stare does not show judgment. She dares a glance in my direction before addressing Dorian.

“It is amazing what you did. I have to admit, I was worried you wouldn’t make it.” The girl smiles. I can tell she is much younger and wonder how she is not at the University, sitting in class. Then I realize I am absent as well; it’s a strange feeling, knowing that everything there is continuing as always.

Has anyone asked where I am? Do they worry what has happened to me? Or do they act the same way they always have when someone disappears suddenly? I’ve never reacted when someone went missing. I can only remember being thankful it was not me.

Dorian gives a modest smile. “Anyone could have done it, if they spent as much time as I have. I only wish Azura could have been rescued sooner. It did make saving Oriana easier.” He steps aside, forcing the young girl and me to face each other. I gaze at her blankly, as if she were a wild animal. “Oriana, this is Malise. She is a friend of mine.”

I smile immediately, determined to make a good first impression. She looks sideways at me, as if I were a new species as well. “Nice to meet you,” I interject. Malise nods in response and then hurries to catch up with Tor and the others who have already begun down the gradual slope, further into the forest. Watching them leave I feel pressure on the small of my back and realize Dorian remains beside me. I look up at him questioningly.

“Malise doesn’t see many purebloods,” Dorian explains, probably noticing my look of dismay.

“But how …,” I begin. Wasn’t Malise born and sent to school as all of us are? Is there any alternative?

“She was not raised in Odon’s schools,” Dorian answers and then begins to follow after the others.

I feel his hand slide from behind me, hanging back a moment to consider his answer. “Then where was she raised?” I finally ask.

Dorian stops and turns. There’s a spark in his eyes. “Come, I’ll show you.”