Page 28 of Shadebound
“What about the other two?” I didn’t really care, but I figured I had to ask.
“One is alchemy. They teach us how to make potions, charms, or whatever else we might need that our own magic can’t do. But that isn’t on for a few more weeks; there was a fight in the classroom last Tuesday, and it burned down. Hightower’s minions are currently finding a new spot to rebuild ‘cause they couldn’t repair the damage.”
“How delightful.” I grinned. “I do love a good arson. Is the final class anything interesting and dangerous, or is it droll?”
“It’s a fun class, I guess. We do music, art, dance, and stuff like that. It’s basically a creative arts thing that lets us pretend we can still have hobbies and fun. And it also gives Hightower something to take away from people if they misbehave; we won’t have it for a month. But that one usually happens once a week. She doesn’t want us to be too happy.”
It was infuriating, but I was actually looking forward to that lesson. I enjoyed music, especially piano. The idea of never being able to play for the next century was unappealing. But if I got the occasional class here, perhaps I wouldn’t feel the need to break my own fingers off.
“Sounds interesting. Anything else I need to know?” I asked, as I wiped my bloody fingers on the inside of my pocket, and pulled my hand free.
Maya nodded. “Zayden said he’d get the rest of your stuff cause he knows your dress size and preferences.” She talked fast, like she was ticking off a list. “Oh, and I enchanted your sheets with pearl powder so they block out nightmares. I figured... it might help.”
I didn’t say anything. I just moved and sat on the edge of my bed, fingers curling around the edge of the blanket.
She joined me, not sitting too close, but close enough. Her presence was gentle, but not fragile. Like she knew exactly what she was doing here and how to give me space without making me feel alone.
She’d always been good at that. Not pushing me. I’d always presumed Bells had given her a rundown on how to deal with me without wanting to cry or pull her hair out.
“That bed’s for your brother.” She pointed to the one opposite with almost nothing on. “He didn’t have any supplies dropped off, so I stole some of Zayden’s stuff, and we can help him get whatever else he needs. I didn’t realise he was signed up to come here too.” She glanced at me, clearly confused. “We followed your trial when we could steal newspapers. But it never mentioned Draven.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose, ignoring the budding ache behind my eyes. “Draven was dragged here by the magic. He’s not supposed to be with me.”
Her expression softened as she stood and smoothed the sides of her top. “I’ve got moon swim in ten with the rest of the chorus. It’s this siren group I’m in. But I’ll be back after if you want to stay up and have a chat about things. Or, you know, if you’re more in the mood for an early night, that’s fine too. I don’t know what Zayden told you, but initiation nights are not fun.”
I nodded. I remembered moon swims—some siren ritual under the highest point of the moon each night. All of them swam together. I didn’t understand it, but I wasn’t a siren, so I didn’t need to.
“I might have a nap,” I said. “Then chat. We’ll see how I feel. You can tell me all about the initiation and the rest of it later.”
Maya nodded and headed out.
She hesitated at the door, hand on the frame. “Jinx... it’s good to see you. I know it’s weird. But for what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re here. I... I missed you.”
I looked at her and gave an almost imperceptible nod. For a second I debated telling her the same. That I’d missed her and would enjoy her presence. But that wasn’t how I operated. I just hoped she understood that Iwasglad. Even if I didn’t show it.
She offered a ghost of a smile and then left me to explore further.
On my pillow, a friendship bracelet waited—pink and white threads knotted tight. I stared at it for a long moment, wondering why on earth Maya had started making these again. She and Bells used to knot them constantly as kids, their fingers quick, their laughter quicker. The thought was... sweet, I supposed. Sweet enough to make something twist in my chest. But I couldn’t bring myself to wear that much colour. Especially with a bracelet that looked like the one my sister had worn on her wrist, to match with Draven. Instead, I slid it into the only drawer on my side table, where it could be safe and out of sight.
Only I found something in there already. A battered book of poetry. A mixture of authors, from Frost, Poe and Plath. To Shakespeare and Homer. I flicked open the tattered thing out of curiosity, picking a random page.
A snippet of Shakespeare greeted me.
Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove.
Next to the first line, tucked underneath in tiny handwriting—speak for yourself, Will. I alter plenty if she’s pretty enough.
The corner of my mouth twitched, a laugh threatening, until my gaze caught on the scrawl beneath the stanza. The smile died in my throat —but gods, I wish this were true.
An odd softness plagued my gut for a few seconds before I put the book back. Unable to handle the thought of the predecessor to my bed having such...emotions.
Once I shut the drawer, I instantly lay back on my bed, the rune-glow painting soft shadows across the ceiling. As I tried to slow down my thoughts, I stared up at the patterns carved in the stone, trying to make sense of my new cage.
Death,I wondered when I was met with nothing but silence from my shadows.Is this what life feels like when you’re dying? Is this a bed that simply predates my coffin?
