Page 86 of Daughter Of The Ninth Line
I cleared my throat, shaking off my own disbelief. “For the next year—until we graduate and go off to our respective Lines for our familial duties—we share Avalon Halhed.Ifthat’s what she wants,” I added quickly. This might be all extremely redundant, considering pinning down Avalon was like catchinga shooting star. She mightn’t want either of us, let alone both of us.
Vylan stared at me for so long, I was sure he was going to disagree. In which case, I’d have to sneak into his dorm in the middle of the night, incapacitate him, then take him out to sea and drown him. Consequences be damned.
Finally, as if he was just as shocked, he nodded. “I guess you’ve got a deal, Taeme.”
I smirked, feeling suddenly lighter. This felt right. “If we’re going to be co-boyfriends, you should probably call me Hayle.”
He groaned, burying his face in his hands. “I take it fucking back already.”
Oh, maybe this would be fun.
chapter fifty-three
Avalon
The musclesof my legs felt like they’d been seared in a firepit as I climbed the stairs to the atrium roof. I’d told Vox that I would meet him there tonight, mainly because I’d wanted to lie in the bathtub and hope that my body magically regenerated. The instructors had drilled us hard to assess our stamina in training today, and now I couldn’t feel any of the muscles below my navel.
At least I hadn’t vomited over the rail, like half the class. I’d waited until we were dismissed, then puked in a bush just off the path back to our rooms.
Vox’s jacket was bundled tightly in my arms, though I’d picked it up and put it down at least three times before leaving my dorm room. I wanted to keep it so bad; something about the scent of Vox that remained in the fibers was soothing. Which was creepy as hell, and borderline stalkerish. It had been that line of thought that had me grabbing it as I walked out the door.
Besides, I wouldn’t want to be accused of being a thief, and who would believe that the Heir to the First Line had voluntarily given me his jacket?
No one. Even the concept was ridiculous.
Climbing the stairs to the Upper Line dorms slowly, I kept my head down, but obviously the Goddess wanted to add to my misery today. As I made it to the fifth floor, I had the misfortune of running into Ephily Ingmire and a group of her friends.
Fuck.
Keeping my head down, I tried to scoot around them and up the next set of stairs, but she moved herself into my path. “Um, excuse me, are you lost? What are you doing above ground level? Dirt scrabblers aren’t allowed up here. It’s the only place the Upper Lines can escape your stink.” She curled her lip in disgust as her friends tittered behind her.
Goddess, I hated this entitled little witch.
My brain scrambled for an adequate excuse to be up here. Ephily wouldn’t believe that it was at Vox’s invitation. Besides, I didn’t even want to tell them what he was doing up on the roof. I’d seen how excited he was last night, seen the joy that staring at the stars brought him, and knew that it was something private, something he didn’t want to share with anyone else.
So I held up his coat. “I found his jacket and was told that I should bring it up to the First Floor dorms. He insisted on it.” My voice sounded higher than normal, but I doubted Ephily would know that.
She reached for the jacket. “I’ll take it. I was going to see Vox anyway,” she purred, and I could just imagine her sashaying into the First Floor dorm like she was the savior of outerwear.
I looked at the beautiful woman in front of me, who was definitely the type of person that Vox Vylan would marry. Connected, gorgeous, biddable. I’d never seen her look like anything other than a painting created by a master artist. Her clothes were tailored to fit perfectly, her makeup expertly applied with a practiced hand, making her look naturally flawless.
She’d look so good in those First Line portraits that were distributed to all the Lines, like we were meant to salute their visage every morning. It was how I’d known what Vox Vylan looked like before I even arrived at Boellium. I’d watched him grow through his official family portraits.
However, the Vox of last night, his eyes alight as he described meteor showers and constellations, looked nothing like the boy with the sad eyes in those paintings.
Suddenly, I wanted to deny Ephily any chance of getting her hooks into him. She would smother any joy that was left in Vox Vylan; I knew it in my gut. Shaking my head, I gripped the jacket tighter. “He insisted it should be me. I don’t want to be punished.”
The lie left my mouth so smoothly, a result of years of practice. Lying to avoid punishments. Lying to avoid my father, or the guards who knew that they could kick me around a little and my father wouldn’t care. The ones who hated they weren’t in a position of privilege, yet I was, so I was an accessible outlet for that impotent rage.
Ephily glared at me. “I’m sure it will be fine.” She tugged at the jacket, and I held it tighter. We weren’t outside, so she couldn’t use her terraforma powers on me, though someone more powerful from her Line might’ve been able to bend the stone from the walls. But Ephily wasn’t an Heir. She was just like the rest of the conscripts—a sacrifice.
“No.” I met her eyes. I would not be moved on this.
She glared back at me, then smirked. “Fine. I’ll walk you up. Wouldn’t want you getting ideas and stealing from the Upper Lines. I know that’s how you dirt scrabblers get by.”
I was going to punch Vox in the chest for that stupid name. It was usually used against the Eleventh and Twelfth Lines, because it was very dry out west, where there were vast fields of desert.
However, the Ninth Line Barony was near the mountains. If there was any dirt for us to scrabble in, it was under three feet of snow and frozen solid.
