Oriana's Eyes (5 page)

 CHAPTER TEN

I feel a soft breeze against my cheek. It rustles my hair. And the sun, it must be the sun, has warmed the grass around me. My cheeks burn slightly. The air smells of flowers and grass and dirt and all that is natural.

I open my eyes, close them, and then squint until they adjust to the sunlight. I don’t think I am dead. I can’t be, because I recognize the smiling golden flowers of the garden. They all sit beside me, each with the same grin upon its petals.

“Hello,” I say to them.

“Good morning,” they answer, but I soon realize that the real greeter is Dorian, sitting across from me on the stone bench.

I press my hands into the grass to raise myself from the ground. My joints feel stiff, and I fight off dizziness as I struggle upon weak legs. Without a sound, Dorian is by my side. I use his arm to steady myself. What is wrong with me? I feel like an infant just learning to walk.

I hobble toward the bench with help from Dorian. A turn of my head leaves me retching behind the seat. I lower myself sideways onto the bench. I rest the side of my face on the cool stone. It eases my headache, and I sense Dorian beside me.

“I knew that stuff would be strong,” Dorian says in a disgusted tone, “but at least you’re finally waking up.”

I open my eyes, and a throbbing begins behind them. “What … what do you mean … stuff?” My voice vibrates in my skull, and I decide to talk as little as I can.

Dorian holds up a water bottle and shakes it to draw my attention to the liquid inside.

“What is …?”

“I found it in your bag, I think it has some sort of numbing drug in it—highly addictive. I admit I wasn’t sure you’d make it …” He looks down and tosses the bottle into my bag, happy to be rid of it. I watch it as if it might escape to attack me. After I am sure it hasn’t moved, I close my eyes to speak.

“I suppose they will come looking for us …” I wait for my head to calm down. “How long have I been here?”

Dorian gets up from the bench and paces in front of me. He avoids my gaze, and my stomach sinks, “We’ve spent the night here.”

My eyes wide, I sit up too suddenly, but the terrible ache of my body is less important.

“A full night?!” There’s no escaping this. My mind races with excuses but finds nothing substantial. I’m dead—no, my fate is far worse than death. I am cursed! Odon will punish me. This goes beyond the Odonian, beyond a drug to numb my brain.

“How could you let this happen? Has anyone
seen
us?”

He is silent as he crouches and wrings his hands. He seems to be in deep thought, staring at the flowers.

“Dorian …” I breathe, a comforting sound in the silence.

He looks up at me, and our eyes connect. I see the hurt in them. “Oriana, I had to. I couldn’t let them win like that … There was no other way to free you. I’m certain of that.”

Shaking with fear, I nod in agreement. “I know, but what am I going to do now? There is no escaping the Odonians. I wouldn’t be surprised if Lenora reports me the moment she spots me. No one can be trusted, and the University is completely guarded. We should just leave. That is the best chance we have.” I am forced to lie down once again on the bench as the pain becomes unbearable.

“We can’t leave now; it isn’t the right time. You must wait until the Rebirth. It won’t be safe until then.” Dorian’s mind seems to be flipping through the past, present, and future like a thick novel. His hands fumble with an invisible object.

There’s no time to get the whole story so I change the subject. “Even if I can convince Lenora of some lie, how will I get in again without the guards detecting me or the Odonians seeing? I was lucky that one time …”

“I’m used to sneaking around, and I’ve discovered the one fault of all the many guards and Odonians. It’s their schedules. They keep to them exactly.” His face hints of pride. “I’ve figured out their patterns and can avoid them. That’s how I brought you here.”

I flash my eyes at him. “You’ve learned every guard’s routine?”

“It’s simpler than it sounds. A bit of math and counting, although it has taken a while to learn,” he adds cleverly.

My doubt begins to diminish; maybe luck is on our side. Perhaps somewhere, someone is watching right now, watching and willing us to succeed, to survive. The thought is enough to heighten my spirits, and the pain in my head recedes.

“You’re still very pale, Oriana,” Dorian says, handing me another canteen of clear liquid. I hesitate at first, but feeling parched, I accept it anyway.

“It’s normal water from beyond the University’s walls,” he assures me with a confident grin.

My eyebrow arches as I begin to sip the cooling liquid. It seems to slide through my veins, healing all the way. Another question to add to my list: Dorian has already been beyond the University walls?

I drain the canteen and slowly get to my feet, feeling rehydrated.

“You’ll still need to take it easy.” Dorian sits down on the bench and motions for me to rest beside him. An odd breeze picks up and dishevels our hair.

“You must return soon. The Rebirth is closer than you realize. You have to be there.” His eyes go gray, and I’m weighted down with curiosity.

I dare the question, “Why?”

“You will stay safe. It’s best that you remain until the ceremony.”

“What do I tell Lenora?”

Dorian has a quick response, “You must lie so they believe you. Act as if …”

I laugh ruefully, “As if I’m still numb? Yeah, I’m used to that.”

With regret he continues, “Tell her you lost the water and passed out. You don’t know for how long, but someone found you and was able to revive you with some of theirs.”

“I’ll have to become
her
again,” I say with complete disgust. I remember a time when she was all I knew, when I was one of them.

“It won’t be for long,” I wait for him to go on, but he remains quiet. I stand next to him awkwardly, and for a moment I wonder if I can trust him. Why is he so determined I should go back?

“Now listen carefully. I will tell you how to get past the guards.”

The numbers replay over and over in my head as I approach the University with a sickening speed. The grass seems to blur beneath my feet, although I am walking as slowly as I can. My head is in a haze, a brewing cloud of memories and fear that pricks at my skin like a thousand needles. I stop short. Was it three counts or four? I search my memory frantically, and I chase any recollection until it disappears beneath a dark horizon deep within my brain. A single second of idleness could be the difference between life and death.

It was three. I take a deep breath. It was three counts. The second reassurance is as ineffective as the first, if not more so. My feet are moving again, my mind spinning. I reach the door and nearly walk into it, but the shadow of the building awakens me before I have a chance to.

I raise my eyes to the sky. The sun is almost completely hidden by the building. It’s then that the counting begins. I reach for the slate that Dorian gave me to slip within the door, as he did that first night. The sun is a slit of an eye dozing above the horizon. I hold my breath as it disappears.

My hands fumble for a moment, and then I am slipping the slate into the doorframe and sliding until the click of the alarm. With my other hand I press the cool metal handle. A feather whisks down my back. I open the portal and step over the frame—hand still on the slate, slate still on the tripper. The door isn’t open long, and still it is open for too much time. My spirit shivers as something seems to escape through, but I can’t tell if it’s from me or the University, maybe both. The feeling passes, and I close the door and remove the stone. Silence; the sterile halls are lifeless. I don’t breathe, trying not to show I’m even living. Better to blend into the white. There is a grass stain on the hem of my gown. I’ve only noticed it when all the white returned. Focus. Still there is silence.

My heart is gagging. Where are the footsteps? I cannot start counting without the footsteps! Focus, breathe, listen … silence.

 CHAPTER ELEVEN

A slight gurgle escapes in my throat as I struggle in the silence. My ears seem to hear only the thumping of my heart, which sends me into a panic. The footsteps! I have to listen to the footsteps! My distress only causes my heart to beat harder and faster. It taunts me, my own heart the cause of such terror. The frustration nearly causes me to cry out. I look down each corridor frantically.
What did I do wrong?

And then there is an off-step in my heart. An extra beat, it seems at first, but then my ears manage to discern the sound from another source. One …
I say in my head, my heart slowing and the heat in my blood slowly cooling. Two … I close my eyes, preparing myself to spring with the final sound. I hesitate in between when I remember the inner conflict. Maybe it was actually four. What if I’m wrong? But it seems that my heart can’t wait any longer. It has me taking off toward the hallway ahead, slightly to my left. As I run I manage a glance to my right, where the shadow of the guard plays upon the opposite wall as he makes his final steps into the hallway. I was right! But I don’t hear the fourth step or any other for that matter. I’m already in the next hallway, and a new set of numbers begins to play in my mind.

I reach the corner of a hallway that’s perpendicular to this one. In my mind I have reached ten. By twelve I will hear a new set of feet. Eleven, twelve … The echo of a guard entering and crossing through to another hallway can be heard. By the fifth step I cover the last part of the hallway to my room as quietly as possible. I reach the pale door.

I grab the handle and, before entering, allow myself a sigh of relief. I made it. Now I have to convince Lenora. It won’t be easy. I turn the knob. I open the door in complete silence. I force my breathing to be calm and even. From somewhere inside me, I find
her
, the other me. I thought she was completely gone. But somehow I do.

Cross-legged, Lenora’s wraithlike form takes up less room than the four open books that surround her on her bed. She blends into the white, almost disappearing. Even her blond hair seems to have absorbed the paleness of her skin. She looks up with ghostly eyes that startle my breath away. They seem transparent, yet they see straight through me.

“Where have you been, Oriana?” Her voice is a rush of air, and the force behind it causes me to blink. My skin turns cold beneath her icy stare, and I can’t disguise an uncontrollable shiver.

Without answering I begin to busy myself with something on my desk, not wanting to look back at the cold mask on Lenora’s face.

The silence becomes unbearable. I attempt a response, “I …,” I begin, but my mind goes blank. Finally, I gain control and take a breath, clearing myself of emotions. I realize it’s the only way to survive. Lenora might be conveying anger, but she is in complete control of what her body conveys. I cough to maybe cover up the previous short-lived statement. My back is now facing Lenora so I will not have to experience her reaction; her body lies anyway.

“I was having another one of those fits. Luckily I managed to explain to a part-blood to get me the water from my bag.” I glance at her from the corner of my eye. She is motionless. “Then I spent the night at the medical center.” By saying it was a part-blood I will be excused from any explanation about who it was, and that will save me a lot of trouble. A pureblood is not expected to know a part-blood by name; most don’t bother to learn or remember.

“Where is your bag?” Lenora asks, stone-faced.

“My … my bag?” I look around, holding my breath, hoping it has somehow sprouted legs and followed me here. “I must have left it at the medical center.” I shrug, but it seems more of a cringe.

In a flash I see Lenora’s demeanor change. There is a clever smirk curving at the edges of her lips.

“Oh,” she replies with a fake surprise ringing in the word, “well, that’s odd.”

“What’s the matter?” I ask, feigning nonchalance by slouching on my bed and writing some nonsense into a notebook.

“Oh, well.” Lenora seems to act as though I had shocked her out of deep thought. Her reactions are flawless. I know she’s really just waiting for my response so she can pounce. I hear a whisper of movement, and I look up. Our eyes meet squarely; she doesn’t blink. “Oriana, the first place I looked was at the medical center. You weren’t there the whole day.”

I freeze. My hand stops writing, my muscles are too tense to move. Lenora is silent, letting it sink in. My mind is racing but not with ideas, only the instinct to run and escape. Yet my body is planted on my bed, fear cementing it there.

“Lenora, I … passed out for a while … I don’t …” My jaw is shaking, and my hands are fumbling with the pen and book. They finally drop to the floor lifeless. I look at them with envy.

Lenora gets up from her seat on the bed. “Excuse me for a moment, would you?” she says sweetly, sliding porcelain feet into white slippers.

“Where … where are you going?” I try to act as though the answer doesn’t interest me by staring into the words on my notebook, words whose meaning I can’t seem to discern.

“Bathroom,” Lenora states carelessly and slips out.

My brain is on fire. Should I leave? I think back to what Dorian said: “Just until the Rebirth.” He said I’ll be safe here; he said to wait. I take a breath and let it out slowly, hoping it will help keep my legs from carrying me straight out the door and back to the garden. There is a sinking in my stomach, a feeling that something is not right. I should leave … I should …

But time has run out. Lenora returns and shuts the door behind her carefully. I watch from the corner of my eye as she sits on her bed and lets her slippers drop neatly to the floor. I hold my breath as another silence takes hold of us. It seems to squeeze the life out of me.

“Oriana.” Lenora’s voice is a whisper, barely audible. “What really happened?”

“I told you … I—”

Lenora doesn’t waste any more time. “Oriana, don’t play dumb. I know you’re hiding something important from me. You’ve been acting so strange lately, ever since that night at the garden. That’s when this all started. You never were out that late before a big test.” Lenora is in turmoil and her face is flushed. She isn’t exactly yelling, but it seems as though her words are stabbing me harder than if she were. She doesn’t move or stand, just remains rigidly perched upon her bed.

I’m frozen in place, watching the storm that had taken over Lenora suddenly pass.

My eyes grow warm, and I recognize the tears. This is not a time to cry, but it’s hard to stop, to think, to breathe, when the emotions are so layered inside me. I’m realizing what a disadvantage they are. If only I could escape them, somehow release them from my body. I wish to tear them from within. They quickly transform into a boiling rage. The anger of my weakness burns up any tears, and I face her: my roommate, my friend, my enemy.

“Lenora, let me leave,” I reply calmly, steadying my voice. I’m almost impressed with myself.

Lenora, mouth gaping, shakes her head, “I can’t. You must tell me … I need to know. Why won’t you?”

Just then there is a knock on the door. I almost scream, “Who is that, Lenora?”

She doesn’t look at me or the door. Just shakes her head, “I can’t let you … you can’t go … this is how it should be … I am pureblood … I am a Winglet … I love Odon … he is everything … he is—”

“Who did you tell? Lenora! What have you done?” I scream and scream without anywhere to go. I can’t seem to find my way around the room, and the knock on the door has turned to a pounding in my ears. I can’t breathe, yet my screaming continues. The white of the room blinds me. There is a crash and thud as the door is kicked down.

The white gets brighter and brighter. It suffocates me and then swallows me up, starting at the tips of my golden hair.

A crowd of figures surrounds me. They are a blur of shadows in the white. I can’t make out their faces, but I don’t need to recognize them to know who they are.

Lenora is yelling behind me, begging me for answers.

I kick and yell in fury mixed with fear. They grab my arms, and I can’t move. Tears are streaming from my eyes and nose and choking me. There is a deafening thud as something cracks the back of my skull, and a sharp pain ushers me into darkness.