CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

The orb lights above me glow dimly. It is late in the evening as I reposition myself on the white cushions. I can’t get comfortable no matter how I try. My mind keeps returning to the Great Oak and the safety of everyone there. Did I actually speak with Dorian? Or was it merely a dream? Another of Odon’s tricks? And if it wasn’t, did Dorian believe me? Did he have enough time to warn the others?

Every inhaled breath brings a twisting pain in my stomach that refuses to go away. I hold my breath, tightening my stomach and then releasing the air slowly. The result is a moment of relief before the knot retightens within my gut and the memories replay in my mind.

I look up at the oval door across the room. I get to my feet and climb onto the upper floor, still eyeing the door. I glance backward. Could Odon be watching me? I wouldn’t be surprised, and yet I have to try. I cover the distance to the door and press my hands against it. There is no handle and merely a narrow slit around its edges. After this waste of time, I retreat to the center of the room.

I fall back onto the cushions, sighing openly. The weight of something hard strikes me as I bounce against the pillows. I search my pocket, finding a small piece of bread and Narena’s journal. I chew the bread, which crumbles in my mouth, but at least it fills my stomach.

I adjust my position and open the journal, hoping to find some strand of inspiration within it. My eyes rest upon a page addressed to Dorian.

My son, every day seems to bring further hardships, greater sorrows. You have not yet entered this world, and sometimes I wonder if it is selfish of me to want you to. I feel your heartbeat inside me, the movement of your infant limbs. Your father is so proud. He wants to see you too, but I am frightened. I never thought I would admit that, but I am. Now that you’re here, I am afraid for you, for the future of our world. They say you will be our only hope. I’d rather not say where that path has led others before you. I have lost many friends to this talk of destiny. Somehow I believe you will not follow the same path as those of the past, but I fear in time you may lose your way. It is why I have decided to write this journal, because one day I might not be by your side. One day the weight of fear and anger may overpower you. Dorian, you must admit your fears, your mistakes, it is what separates us from the corrupt. Whatever should happen to your father or me, remember this, if ever you should stray, your only way back is through the eyes of the one who truly loves you.

I shut the book, a shiver passing over me. There is something about those last words that lingers in my mind. Is this information some sort of key for the future? I close the book, feeling satisfied with the passage I have discovered. Placing it inside the satchel, I reach for the canteen that still contains some water. In a few minutes I have finished the rest of the loaf and half drained the canteen. As I am replacing my things inside the bag, the oval door opens. The Odonian enters, a snivel of recognition on his face as he eyes me.

“What do you want?” I ask.

“Master Odon has asked me to check on you. You appear in good health,” he states, sizing me up with distaste.

“That’s a matter of opinion.” I snort.

“You’d be wise to hold your tongue and recognize your place.” The Odonian moves to let the door shut behind him.

“Where might that be?”

The Odonian smirks, watching me from the upper level of flooring, “Below me.”

I burn with rage.

“Control yourself!” he commands and then considers before explaining. “If that simple statement has brought such emotion, then you will most certainly be moved by my further bit of insight.”

I take a breath, holding back my temper and returning to my instincts as a University student, “And what’s that?”

“News of the Great Oak.”

I am completely silent, straining for him to continue.

“Odon’s men have already been sent. In fact, they have probably already done their damage. I wouldn’t be surprise if the whole place is burning to the ground at this moment,” he adds casually.

“You’re lying!”

“You know it to be true. It was you who revealed its location. Foolish Winglet.”

“I didn’t know … how could I … it was a mis—”

“Mistake?” He shakes his head as if I were a misbehaving child. “You’ve been making a lot of those lately, haven’t you?”

I clench my fists, a growl rising in my throat. It is all I can do to keep from lunging at his hideous form. The wraith of a body and featureless face, skeletal in every way save for the streak of blond hair upon his head. It hangs lifelessly to one side like a withered blossom.

I must not let my anger control me. Narena is right, and I’ve experienced it firsthand. I must not resort to anger and give him the upper hand. Yet I’m finding it increasingly difficult, given the situation.

“I can just picture your half-blood burning alive. His lasting memory of your betrayal. Now no one can save you, Odon will live on, and the University will prevail.” His smile is the rictus of a feasting maggot.

“You’d rather Odon win? And I’m the one who’s foolish? You’re just a slave to him! You’re too stupid to realize that! You’re worse than I could ever be!” I jab my finger toward him. I await in pure delight the look of injury upon his face.

But it never shows. The Odonian’s pale eyes look upon me slyly, that slimy smile still wriggling on his face. “Oh, but you are … haven’t you figured that out yet? I should think you might have surmised …” His laugh hisses in my ears.

“What … what did you say?”

“What do you think that scar on your neck is from?”

I reach to brush my fingers against it, recalling the memory of the painful injection. It is still sore to touch. “What is it?” I know I will regret asking.

“You’re one of us now.”

“One of—”

“Little Winglet, you are an Odonian.” In the end he wins, exulting in my stunned stare and then turning and walking out of the room.