Page 168 of Wings of Ash & Flame
Alaire turned sharply toward her, eyes narrowing. “Don’t even start.”
Dimples popped into Kaia’s cheeks, but before she could respond, Alaire cut her off. “If you say one more word, I’ll very loudly announce how I had to wipe drool off your face while you were unconscious. I’m sure Caius would haveplentyto say about that.”
Kaia’s grin faltered. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Oh, I would.” Alaire smirked. “Care to test me?”
“Fine, you win.” Kaia slumped with a dramatic sigh.
“Smart choice.”
“Ha. Ha. Ha,” Kaia muttered. “By the way, Dawson’s trying to get your attention.”
“I know.” Out of the corner of her eye, Alaire caught him leaning off the wall, mouth set in a grim line.
“I don’t particularly care to talk to him after being stabbed.”
“Al, you weren’t stabbed. A needle pricked you. And it wasn’t just you—it happened to all of us.” Kaia gestured to the line of novices. “It wasn’t his choice.”
“Everyone always has a choice.” Alaire tugged at her collar, refusing to meet his gaze. Embarrassment prickled hot under her skin. She winced at how easily Dawson had slipped past her defenses, how quickly she’d melted at a hint of affection.
What humiliated her most was how much she’d wanted it. Weeks of him freezing her out after the ball, and at his first sign of thawing she’d practically curled into his lap, purring like a kitten.
The tips of her ears burned.
“You’re being petulant and dramatic,” Kaia said.
“Whose side are you on?” Alaire grunted. But stewing in her own emotions wouldn’t help. Whatever she felt, she had to shove it down.
“Yours. Someone’s got to tell you to get the stick out of your ass. You woke on the wrong side of the cement floor, for whatever reason. But look—we’re alive, not in shackles, and stuck with two of the most impressive male specimens I’ve ever laid eyes on. Things could be worse.”
Kaia’s relentless optimism tugged a reluctant smile from her.
“Fine, you win,” Alaire muttered, echoing her friend.
She finally turned to Dawson. He was wringing his hands—something she’d never seen him do. His jaw worked, tense and restless, before he exhaled heavily and let his shoulders slump.
I’m sorry, he mouthed.
Alaire shook her head. It wasn’t what he’d done. It waswhenhe chose to leverage leading up to it. But none of that mattered now. “It’s okay. You didn’t have a choice,” she whispered, low enough for his ears—and probably Caius’s too.
“Don’t bother trying to contact your celestials. You won’t reach them until we’re above ground,” Professor Ross cut in. “Let’s move.”
“Where are we going?” Alaire asked.
“Can’t say. You’ll see.” Mischief glinted in his eyes.
He led them through winding stone passages. Anticipation stirred amongst the novices as they whispered questions about their destination. None of the veterans answered.
“Silence,” Professor Ross barked.
After that, only the scuffle of boots and occasional drip of water echoed through the labyrinth. At last they reached a set of stone stairs, and without another word, Professor Ross began the ascent.
The novices emerged into an entirely different world. Theclickof Professor Ross’s soles echoed across a slab of marble patterned like clusters of stars, streaked with swirls of purple, pink, and navy that bled into blackness. An imposing obelisk rose before them, carved from the same mesmerizing material, as if hewn directly from the night sky.
Behind it churned angry slate-grey clouds, swirling violently like titanic whirlpools. Thunder rolled from their depths.
Branching from the obelisk’s center were paths veiled in mist, each painted in shades matching the marble swirls.
