Dark Heart Rising (6 page)

Rosa followed her and the door shut behind them. Raphael sank back into his chair, his demeanour already altered. He grasped his cup and emptied the contents noisily down his throat.

Then he sat, staring out of the window at the figures working on the gardens in front of him. As he watched, his eyes narrowed and his hands fiddled restlessly with the cup in front of him. One of his headaches was coming; he could already feel the dull throb, so familiar over the past few months. They’d begun when he was first locked away in the palace basements on his return from Earth – the mortal world. Some nights they were so bad he had cried out in pain. The guards, taking it as another sign of his madness, had ignored him. So, Raphael had borne the pain, while slowly a plan hatched inside him.

Soon, Celeste’s face had turned from anxious to hopeful as she made her nightly visits. Eventually she had dismissed the guards hovering outside Raphael’s room and had sat comfortably talking to her great-son for as long as an hour at a time.

Slowly, surely, Raphael had convinced his great-mother – Queen of the Seraphim – that he was completely cured. A model of rational remorse. He had shed so many tears in front of her – tears that had him wincing in self-loathing as soon as the door had shut behind her. Celeste was now assured of his rehabilitation. She so wanted to believe it, and Raphael had made it so much easier. He had always been her favourite. There was nothing she wanted more than to restore him to his rightful place. The eventual heir to the whole of the Celestial Kingdom.

Raphael rose from the breakfast table and stood looking down on the palace gardens. In the field just beyond the garden wall, a couple caught his eye. The boy was tall and graceful, his brown hair blowing messily in the breeze, the girl handsome, with honey-coloured hair in a neat French plait, dressed in loose trousers and a light T-shirt.

Raphael rubbed his temple. Luca, the one who had saved him from committing a terrible act. He had hated the boy at one time. Or had it been jealousy? For all that Luca and his family symbolised the ethos of Nissilum – the great ‘sacrifice’ that Raphael despised – he had to admit he almost felt a little sorry for him now. Luca was soon to be married to a girl he barely knew and couldn’t possibly love. Not so long ago Luca had nearly followed the same path as Gabriel – falling in love with the mortal girl, Jane. Even Raphael had been swayed by the intensity of their feelings for each other in the end. But of course, it couldn’t be allowed. Not if Luca’s mother had anything to do with it. Under pressure from Celeste, who had a soft spot for the wolf-boy, Raphael was obliged to host the marriage, though it would sicken him to do it. He looked coldly at the pair as they walked arm in arm through the field. Luca was insufferably good. So ready to be compliant in the suffocating future his family had laid out for him. And now Jane was dismissed. Raphael shook his head. Not so hard-hearted that he couldn’t see the injustice in that.

Raphael turned from the window. His headache was getting worse; he screwed up his eyes and put his hands to his head, pushing back his thick blond curls – it would soon be agonising.

Slowly, the boy made his way up the back staircase to his bedroom, and collapsed on to his bed. He just had to wait it out and then start gathering his trusted few, begin preparations for the final act of rebellion.

‘And so Hanni will arrive in the half moon,’ Lila said, leading Luca to a public seat nestled against the palace wall. She smiled at him, small pretty dimples appearing in her cheeks. ‘Our two families will make a fine union … Your mother has been in discussion with my parents for a long time.’

‘Yes.’ Luca returned her smile, hoping it didn’t betray his lack of enthusiasm. ‘It will make our families very happy.’ He dropped his head and focussed on a blade of grass on the ground in front of them.

‘You don’t say much.’ Lila leaned playfully into him. ‘Hanni always tells me to be wary of a man too fond of the sound of his voice, but still … I wonder you don’t just find me dull.’

Luca lifted his head to look at his fiancée. ‘Please don’t take my silence as anything sinister, Lila,’ he told her. ‘Perhaps your mother is a wise woman.’

‘She is.’ She put her hands in her lap, before turning away a little coyly. ‘But some boys might be proud of a girl who chatters. I will make a good hostess.’

Luca struggled with how to respond. He had a sudden, painful longing for the awkward sincerity of the girl he could not think about any more, for the dark-grey eyes he could have looked into for ever.

Eventually he put his hand over Lila’s. ‘And I like your chatter,’ he said, feeling bad for her. ‘And proud to be with you.’ He stopped short of saying he was proud to be marrying her. That, he couldn’t manufacture. Not yet, maybe not ever.

The two of them fell quiet, Luca reflecting on how seamlessly Lila had taken Jane’s place in the eyes of his family – how popular she already was with anyone who met her. No one, not his parents or his siblings, nor any of the Royal family, had spoken of what had happened, or of the girl he brought to the Great Ball – it seemed like a lifetime ago now. It was as though Jane had been erased from everyone’s memory.

Not mine, though
, Luca thought.
Nobody can make me forget her, even if I never speak of her again
.

‘Look.’ Lila spoke, sitting up and turning in the direction of the palace garden gate. ‘There is your brother.’

Lowe lolloped towards them, that familiar insouciant expression on his face. For a change, Luca was relieved to see him. At least Lowe, with all his insensitivity, would break the intense atmosphere.

‘Lila.’ Lowe nodded, giving her the full benefit of his superficial charm. ‘What a pretty picture you are. Let’s hope some of your radiance will infect your husband-to-be.’ He smiled maddeningly at his brother.

‘What are you you up to, Lowe?’ Luca asked, refusing to rise to the bait.

Lowe drew himself up grandly. ‘I am on my way to the stables,’ he said. ‘Raphael and I are going riding today with a few of the palace boys.’ He paused, his chest puffing out slightly. ‘He particularly asked for me as a companion …’ Lowe left a deliberate pointed pause.

‘Well, go carefully with him,’ Luca replied gravely. ‘We cannot be sure he isn’t still fragile.’

‘He is such an old man.’ Lowe addressed Lila. ‘Be warned, Lila, Luca is against fun on principle. You may have to make your own entertainment once you are married.’

Lila frowned briefly before coming to Luca’s defence. ‘I admire his reticence,’ she said seriously. ‘He will make a thoughtful husband. And it is kind of him to be so concerned with Celeste’s great-son.’

‘Well, then.’ Lowe kicked at the ground beneath his feet. ‘I will leave the two of you to sit in joyless silence.’ As Luca turned to him, he caught the cruel mischief in his brother’s eyes. Lowe was clearly enjoying the sacrifice Luca was enduring.

Why has he grown to despise me?
he wondered. Lowe’s very existence cast doubt on the notion of family love. He was quite sure his brother didn’t love or care for him. Not any longer.

Lowe leaned forward to kiss Lila on both cheeks, and gave Luca a curt nod. ‘Have fun!’

‘T
his is a day for you to familiarise yourself with the college campus,’ said Mr Farrelly, the college principal. ‘And to meet your tutors.’ He paused, looking around the hall at the throng of new students. ‘I hope you’ll take a minute to get to know each other,’ he added. ‘This is a time not just for learning, but to broaden your social horizons, too.’ He smiled at us. ‘Now, does anyone have any questions?’

As hands shot up in the air, I took the opportunity to look at my fellow students. It was a while since I’d been in this situation, and I was relieved to find that it was bearable. In fact, it was actually liberating. A chance to reinvent myself. The last time I had sat in a classroom, I had been fourteen and the subject of one girl’s constant bullying. Sarah Emmerson had made my life hell every day, all because I didn’t look or act like her or her Barbie clique. In the end my parents had taken me away and home-schooled me. It was early days, but it seemed like here nobody looked at me like I was a freak. Maybe I could now be the confident sociable Jane I had never been before?

An Asian girl called Tammi introduced herself to me. She was studying the sciences. She seemed sweet, though we wouldn’t have any classes together. A red-haired bespectacled boy told me his name was Tom. He was studying Art, English and History, like me – though he was taking Maths too. He seemed OK, if a bit nerdy.

Then there were the twins, Ashley and Emma, wearing tiny little dresses and heels – who looked me up and down and, clearly deciding I was absolutely no threat whatsoever, dragged me to the cafeteria to get some hot chocolate before we all went to meet our tutors.

‘Everyone calls us A&E,’ said, Ashley, giggling. ‘You know … like Accident and Emergency? Because we’re always getting into trouble. And we’re pretty clumsy …’

I genuinely smiled then. At least they weren’t arrogant.

Sitting in the canteen, I listened to A&E’s chatter, wondering how long it took them to get dressed and make themselves up every morning. My jeans and V–neck wool sweater seemed woefully understated. Everyone, I realised, was making some kind of fashion statement here. Everyone but me.

‘You have such pretty hair,’ said Ashley, attempting to draw me into the conversation. ‘Do you tong?’

I shook my head, self-conscious, and made a mental note to do a drastic wardrobe makeover. Looking like you’d been to a fashion camp was clearly the way to fit in here.

Finally a bell rang, telling us to make our way to our respective subject classrooms and tutors. Saying goodbye to A&E, I walked with Tom, who talked so quickly that I could hardly keep up with what he was saying. Something about taking his Maths A-level early … Every so often he’d glance at me and go a little red, then apologise for talking too much. I wished I was the kind of socially-gifted person who could have made him feel at ease. But years of being a hermit had taken their toll.

Needless to say, Tom and I were both relieved when we arrived in the Art room and scurried off to find empty seats some way from each other.

Flopping down at my desk, I opened my bag and started riffling through it to find a pen and a notebook.

Around me, the chatter of students was a novelty. I hadn’t yet decided whether I was enjoying it or not.

I bent over my bag, scrabbling around trying to locate my pen. The room fell quiet. The teacher had arrived and was clearing his throat.

‘Good morning, everyone.’ I processed a familiar voice, but was still focussed on the contents of my bag. ‘Your assigned tutor has, I’m afraid, been taken seriously ill over the summer holiday and I will now be teaching you over the next college year.’

I finally found my pen and looked up to the front of the class. When my eyes rested on the young man standing addressing the room, my breath froze in my throat.

‘My name is Mr Balzac,’ he continued. ‘But please feel free to call me by my first name. Soren.’

Black eyes found mine and a slow smile crept over his handsome angular face before he turned his attention elsewhere.

‘Let’s begin by going round the room and introducing ourselves,’ he went on. He pointed at Tom, sitting in the far corner. ‘Let’s start with you …’

The Art orientation class lasted a very long forty-five minutes, during which I tried hard to focus on what I was there for and not cast dagger-like looks at Soren Balzac. I had to admit he seemed to know his stuff, he sounded convincing enough, so that part of his story was true. As to the rest of it, I didn’t care whether it was true or not. Now that I had got through most of this day and actually not disliked it, I decided I had no choice but to stop moping after the past. I tapped my pen on the desk as Soren wound up his coursework itinerary, every so often nudging studious-looking black-framed glasses further up his nose. My eyes rolled in a bored fashion.

‘So,’ he concluded, ‘does anyone have a question they would like to ask? Has there been any confusion in what I have been telling you this afternoon?’ He looked casually around the room. I waited for his gaze to arrive and settle on me, which it did.

‘You.’ He pointed at me, then bent and pretended to study the list in front of him. ‘Jane … Jonas? You look a little confused … Is there something of concern to you?’

Stupid question
, I thought, my eyes narrowing in response. I gave a barely perceptible shake of the head, as though dismissing him.

‘Nothing?’ His mouth widened into a broad grin. ‘I was mistaken then.’ His eyes lingered infuriatingly on me before he checked his watch.

‘So … I look forward to seeing you all again in a few weeks’ time,’ Soren said to the room. ‘Please now make your way back to the school noticeboard, where your next orientation class will be listed.’ He removed his glasses, placing them in a case, and started packing books inside a leather bag. The rest of the class trailed out, and I waited until the last student had left the room before I stood, slung my bag over my shoulder and walked slowly to his desk.

‘What do you think you’re doing?’ I hissed as he put on his corduroy jacket. Looking at it, I gave a short derisory laugh. ‘Just because you’ve got the geeky jacket and glasses, Soren, you’re not going to fool anyone you’re an actual teacher. You’re nineteen, for heaven’s sake.’