TWENTY-FIVE
SAGE
“I’m sorry,” Faelan says in a tight voice. “I never should’ve . . . that wasn’t right.” His body is tense enough to crack. He looks ready to bolt.
“I’m fine, Faelan,” I say, trying to reassure him. “Everything is fine.” But I can hardly believe what we did. Not just the kiss, which was—wow. My legs are officially useless and I’m ruined forever.
But I controlled it. I controlled the hunger. I took that thing in me that I felt this afternoon and forced it down deep until it was barely a buzz in my head. He was right: once I understood it better I could manipulate it. And I did.
And then he kissed me.
Oh wow, did he kiss me.
Not that he’s happy about it. He’s obviously not. I’d be offended by his reaction if I wasn’t so relieved that I’d pushed back this thing inside me.
“Thank you,” I say.
His brow goes up in surprise.
“For helping me.” I can’t keep a grin from surfacing. “I can’t believe I stopped it. I feel so much better.”
He watches me like he doesn’t believe me, and he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop.
But I just smile up at him. “I pictured it like hot coals in a box, and all I had to do was put the lid on top, and poof! It went out. Well, mostly, anyway. It was like the embers in my chest went from a burning ache to simmering.” I want to touch him again, but I’m worried he’ll pull away, so I just add, “I’m really grateful you let me try. I know how dangerous it is.”
“I shouldn’t have let that happen,” he says, pained.
Irritation begins to surface, and I’m about to ask him what’s so wrong with kissing me, and why he looks like he just ran over his neighbor’s dog when he should be happy his experiment worked, but a familiar voice breaks in.
“There you two are,” Aelia says. “Well done keeping her out of eyesight, Faelan.” She looks back and forth between us. “Did I interrupt something?”
“When does this thing start?” I ask.
She smirks at me, not missing my deflection. “Daddy’s just arrived. He’d like you both to meet him in the gallery upstairs. The girls and I will be in the crowd, and you’ll be presented on the second-floor stage, like a real princess.” She touches my arm reassuringly. She’s being nice? “Good luck,” she says with a wink. And then she turns on her heels and saunters away.
“We should go,” Faelan says, his tone heavy. “Are you ready?”
“No, but who cares. Let’s get this done.”
I follow him across the stone and moss pathway, along the line of amber-colored trees. Neither of us speak. It’s a relief not having to look at the panic on his face, since all I can see is the back of his head.
The evening air is full of the sound of hissing torches and gossip coming from the courtyard. It’s an unforgettable sight, the soft golden glow flickering over the beautiful people, their expensive clothes shimmering, their perfect features and figures making it seem like a movie set instead of real life.
The location looks like an ancient Roman temple, with tall white pillars holding up a crescent-shaped balcony. The most striking people are sitting up there, looking down as if they’re watching from Mount Olympus. My guess is that those are the “royalty,” the demis. Like me.
I would laugh at the idea of sitting with them if I didn’t feel like hiding in a janitor’s closet.
We go through a side door into the main building and then over to the elevator. As we step in and the doors slide closed, I can’t help flashing back to the last time we were in an elevator together, a couple of days ago. I was so clueless. It makes me wonder how clueless I am right now. How much more insane will my reality get after tonight?
At least I’m making progress, if only a little. I just have to get this part over with so I can learn how to fully control the madness in me. And then I can get out, knowing I’m not going to accidentally hurt anyone.
This world is never going to be mine. If that horror in the alley last night didn’t show me that, nothing will.
Faelan pushes the button for the second floor, then steps to the other side of the elevator, as far away from me as he can get. I want to tell him to calm down, that it was just a kiss. I consider a thousand things to say, but instead I just breathe and try not to look as nervous as I feel. Nervous about myself, about what just happened between him and me, about what we’re walking into.
“You’ll be fine,” he says quietly, surprising me.
The elevator dings, the doors open, and he’s stepping out before I can respond. I trail behind him, down a hall and into a wide ballroom. Marius is standing near a pair of French doors that appear to open to the balcony where the regal people are sitting.
Marius turns at the click-click of my heels on the wood floor. A smile of satisfaction curls his lips when he spots us. He holds out a hand, and I find myself taking it.
He’s in a well-fitted charcoal blazer and a black dress shirt, strikingly handsome. A beaded necklace is around his neck; it must be his torque, keeping his powers under control. The beads look like tiny seashells, and there’s a copper medallion with a milky blue stone at the center of a wave pattern. The design probably represents water—his element? It makes me want to look at my own medallion again, makes me wonder what keeps it from working right, especially now that Faelan seems just as baffled by the whole thing.
Marius holds my hand tightly, comforting. “My, my, don’t you look lovely, sweet girl,” he says, almost fatherly. He touches my shoulder and then releases me. “Look at our princess, Faelan. How will you survive this transition, boy?” He smiles.
Faelan clears his throat and gives Marius a stiff grin.
My gut clenches.
“Sir,” Faelan begins, his voice tense, “some feelings have changed and I need to be clear—”
I break in before Faelan can let his boss think that I might’ve fired him. “I need to ask you something, Marius,” I say, even though I don’t want to get Faelan in trouble. I just need to get my head straight. Too much is happening all at once. “It’s important.”
Faelan glances sideways at me.
Marius raises his brow. “What is it, young Sage?”
I consider what I want to know before walking out into the lion’s den. I have a million unanswered questions. So much I don’t get yet. But one question rings in my head. “What happens if I don’t want to take on any kind of royal thing? Like, in a few weeks when this is all said and done, when I’m supposed to decide which house I want to commit to and all that, could I choose to just, like, be a real estate agent instead?”
His eyes narrow. “Why are you asking this?”
“I don’t want to be some sort of princess,” I say, trying to be as honest as I can. “I want to just chill and be me. I’ve always wanted to help people. I thought about going to school to be a psychologist for a while, to work with kids.”
Marius doesn’t seem to know how to process what I’m saying. “Chill?”
Faelan steps forward, like a guard. “She’s overwhelmed, sir, that’s all.”
Marius keeps frowning at me. “You wish to live a human life still. Even knowing what you are? Why?”
“I just want the choice,” I say.
“If only it were that simple.” He considers for a moment. “There is a sacrifice for your blood, young Sage. The order of the Otherworld is old and carries many benefits, but a demi cannot live a fully human life without a heavy cost. Most Otherborn have tasks in society to keep our fingers on the pulse of culture or creativity, even politics. But no one is ever truly free when they are born of Other.”
His words fall like shattering glass in my ears. The understanding of what I’ve been pulled into hits me full force. No one is ever truly free . . . “I can’t do this,” I say, shaking my head, suddenly very sure.
Faelan gives me a panicked look. “Yes, you can. You’ve got to.”
I meet his gaze.
“You can do this, Sage,” he says, sounding sure. “You’re strong. You can become iron. Just make them believe you mean it, even if you don’t, and you’ll find a way to get what you want, just like we talked about. Take the power from them. Use it.”
“I’m not strong,” I say. All I want to do in this moment is the same thing I always do: run.
Strong people don’t run.
“You are,” he says. “I’ve never met anyone like you.”
His words filter around us, and I feel them in my bones. It almost makes me believe them.
“Whether you do this tonight or not,” Marius says, “your blood will Emerge soon. Either you’ll learn to control it here with us or you’ll go hide in the human world and end up hurting people. Likely killing them.”
My mouth goes dry.
“Listen to Faelan,” Marius adds. “Let the journey begin and see where it takes you.”
I stare past them both, through the glass doors and out into the night. The crowds are too far away to see, the royal beings out in the veranda unclear through the glass. “I need Faelan with me out there,” I say, surprising myself.
“What?” Faelan asks, sounding as shocked as I feel.
“Of course,” Marius says. “I will present you, and once that’s finished you can claim him as your protector, then he’ll come out to stand behind you.”
Faelan steps forward, saying under his breath, “But Sage, I thought—”
I cut him off, still talking to Marius. “No. I want him with me the whole time.” It suddenly feels important for everyone to see him beside me from the beginning.
Marius doesn’t look sure but he nods. “Very well. Are you comfortable with that, Faelan?”
Faelan shakes his head. “That’s not what you wanted, Sage.”
He’s sort of right, but he’s been there for me during all of this mess—even after he thought I rejected him, he was there, showing me how to be okay. I’m not used to that, so I don’t think I really noticed it until right now. But I’m sure as hell not going to pretend it doesn’t mean something to me. “I’m asking you to be my protector, Faelan. Will you?”
He studies my face.
“Yes or no?” I ask.
Marius looks between us, concern filling his eyes. “What’s going on, Faelan?”
Faelan shakes his head again. “Things have happened.”
“What things?” Marius asks, his voice low.
“He’s not sure what to do with me,” I say, not looking away from Faelan.
His neck muscles tense. “That isn’t right. And you know it.”
“Are you backing out of our agreement, Faelan?” Marius asks.
“No, sir,” Faelan says.
“I’m asking you to be my protector, Faelan,” I say more gently, trying to figure out how to explain better how I feel without saying too much. “I’m not asking because I have to, but because I trust you—I don’t know why, I barely know you, but I do: I trust you. Whatever else I feel. Right now, in this moment, in spite of everything, you might be the only person here that I do trust.” It’s amazing. And terrifying.
The tension slides from his features.
“You’ve already helped me,” I add. “And protected me, and saved me. At least get the credit. Walk out there with me and do what you promised.”
“If I go out there with you,” Faelan says, “it’ll look like we’re equals. And we’re not.”
“It will ruffle feathers,” Marius says. “But the House of Brighid doesn’t tend to worry about such things.”
“I can walk out there alone,” I say, “but I’m not above anyone. I won’t pretend that I am.”
“Come now,” Marius says, gripping Faelan’s shoulders. “Our princess is asking you to be at her side.”
Faelan looks a little ill, but he gives me a nod. “Fine.”
“Very good,” Marius says, jubilant. “I’ll go out and announce you. And you and Faelan can follow as soon as you hear your name. Once we’re all out there, they’ll ask you a set of questions, and you’ll answer simply, then we’ll be finished.”
“What questions?” I ask, nerves sparking again. I didn’t think there’d be a test.
“You’ll do fine,” he says. He gives me one more smile and takes hold of the door handle. “Are you ready for the chase to begin?” A sparkle of mischief lights his eyes as he opens the door.
Then he walks out into the spotlight.
My stomach churns. I’m about to go out in front of a hugely powerful—and deadly—group of people and act like I fit in with them. When I really, really don’t. And at this point, I hope I never do.
“Why did you change your mind?” Faelan asks.
“I didn’t,” I say.
He gives me a doubtful look.
I shrug. “You assumed I wouldn’t choose you.”
He shakes his head, obviously agitated. “The time of Emergence will pass quickly,” he says, maybe just as much to himself. “In the end, tonight is a small thing.”
“Then why does it feel so monumental?”
“Because you’re entering the unknown.”
I can see Marius, speaking out into the courtyard. He begins talking about the goddess Brighid. Her powers, her goodness. How she’s given them a new gift, how she’s my mother.
God help me.
“But things will play out,” Faelan says. “One way or the other.”
I hear my name, and Marius turns and looks back, nodding at us.
“For good or bad?” I ask.
Faelan faces me, his mouth set in determination. “You’ll just have to trust in the good.” Then he moves aside to let me go in front of him.
I allow myself to feel the strength in his eyes and step out onto the balcony.
It’s surreal. The cool night air brushing against my skin, the stunning beauty of the onlookers, the soft torchlight on their upturned faces—so many faces looking at me.
There are at least two dozen regal figures seated along the balcony railing, on either side of the small raised platform that Marius, Faelan, and I are standing on. They crane their necks to look at me.
And then I spot him. Last time I saw him it was in a shadowed alley, and only for a few minutes, but that face is seared into my mind.
The dark prince, Kieran.
Marius is speaking, but my pulse is too loud in my ears to hear what he’s saying. Everything around me is going blurry. I can’t look away from the silver eyes staring holes through me from several seats away. He doesn’t look angry, but his intensity is obvious. Like he wants to pin me against a wall again.
The black-haired woman sitting beside him leans over and whispers in his ear, her dark red lips nearly touching his cheek. A slow, dry smile tips his mouth.
My insides squirm.
Aelia’s words flash in my head, how he thinks I belong to him because of some ancient claim. But what does that even mean? After what Marius said about my freedom, or lack of it, it makes the idea of Kieran marking me that much more terrifying. If that’s true, then I can’t get out of this place fast enough.
I back up a step to get away from his searching eyes, but I find myself pressing into Faelan. His hand grips my arm, and he leans close, whispering in my ear, “Steady now.”
My skin warms at his touch. I make myself breathe.
Kieran’s jaw tightens. His nails look like they’re digging into the wooden arms of his chair.
Marius’s voice comes again, and this time I catch my name. “. . . a child lost in the fog of humanity, we’re so grateful to our goddess that she’s been found—our Princess Sage.”
A tempered applause fills the air, like they’re all too highbrow to show emotion. I have a sudden fear that I’m supposed to curtsy or something.
But Marius holds out a hand for me to step all the way forward. “Let’s begin, shall we?”
I pull my mind from Kieran and slowly move in front of Marius. My feet don’t work very well, and I almost trip. Is this balcony stable? It feels like everything around me is shaking. Or maybe I’m shaking. Yep, I’m shaking.
“Have you come of your own free will, Princess Sage?” Marius asks. I nod, and he says under his breath, “You must say it aloud.”
I try to project to the audience. “Yes, I’m here of my free will.” I’m stunned by how normal my voice sounds.
“Very good,” Marius says. He bows as he lifts my hand to his lips, brushing my knuckles with a gentle kiss. He looks up at me and smiles. “Welcome, young one.” And then he lets go of me and backs away, moving off the stage.
I start to follow him, but Faelan keeps hold of my arm, whispering, “Not done just yet.”
I notice a man moving to stand in Marius’s place. He’s wearing a green hooded robe that drags on the floor behind him; I’d assume he was a monk if I didn’t know better. Instead of a cross around his neck, he’s wearing a pentagram, and there’s a leather strap across his chest from shoulder to belt. It’s holding a dagger. A white stone bowl rests in his palms. He steps in front of me as a woman in similar robes walks up behind him. She holds a thin stick in her hand.
“Have you chosen a protector?” the man asks. His voice is coated with age, and his face is stoic, older features sagging a bit.
“Yes,” I say, feeling more sure now.
“Name him,” he says. “So that he may be presented.”
“It’s Faelan,” I say.
The priest guy furrows his brow and keeps staring at me like he’s waiting for more.
Should I have said Faelan’s full name? I don’t remember how to pronounce the whole thing. Instead I point behind me to my new shadow and add, “Him.”
The priest frowns and the woman behind him bites her lip, like she’s holding back a smile.
“Very well,” the priest grumbles. He looks at Faelan. “Step forward to take the vow, Faelan Ua Cleirigh. You have been called.”
Faelan comes from behind to stand next to me.
The priest holds out the stone bowl. “With blade and sacrifice, let the shield be true.”
Without a word, Faelan reaches out and pulls the blade from the sheath strapped to the old man’s chest. He holds his other hand over the bowl and slices into his palm like he did when he swore to Marius. Blood runs into the bowl.
My pulse quickens at the sight of the crimson filling the white stone.
A young girl comes from somewhere on our left, a long strip of red silk fabric in her hand. She holds it out to Faelan with wide eyes. She’s probably twelve or thirteen, dressed in a flowing white gown, a wreath of tiny white roses in her long braided hair, like a girl in an ancient wedding ceremony. She’s the first child I’ve seen since I got here. It reminds me of what Faelan said about his own childhood in this world. Somehow it seems wrong for someone so innocent to be a part of all of this.
Faelan holds out his wounded hand to her, and she begins wrapping the red silk round and round his palm with her elegant fingers. When she’s done, she ties it with a knot at his wrist, and gives a quick kiss to his knuckles before letting go with a giggle. Then she backs away and slips into the rows of onlookers.
Next, the woman holding the stick steps forward, her robes dragging behind her. Faelan moves to stand in front of me. His eyes meet mine, and my insides heat with the intensity in them. The memory of his lips, his taste, grips me, and I have to focus on not hyperventilating.
“You’re sure?” he whispers.
I nod. But how can I be sure when I barely know what it all means?
The woman places the stick in his palm, and he shifts it to hold it like a paintbrush, dipping it into the bowl of blood that the priest is holding. He hesitates for a moment, then brings the blood-covered tip toward my head.
I pull back a little.
“It’s okay,” he whispers. “This is how I’ll cover you, protect you.”
I go still and he puts the stick to the center of my brow. My skin tingles at the touch of the blood, and with slow, deliberate strokes he begins to paint what feels like a crescent shape on my forehead. Its slick warmth spreads across my face, and the familiar minty smell of Faelan fills my senses.
“My blood covers yours,” he says loud enough for everyone to hear.
My pulse speeds up again, shaking me as I watch him. His green eyes seem to glow for a moment and gravity shifts under me, pulling me toward him. But I lock my knees and force my body to stay still.
“May the blade that aims for your heart pierce mine,” he says, his voice reverent.
My throat tightens at his sincerity, and the stark reality of it all hits me like a fist to the gut. He’s promising his life—his life to protect me. A girl he barely knows. I want to say something, to respond, but the only words in me right now are I’m sorry.
He gives me a slight tip of his head and steps away.
The priest comes forward again. He faces the audience and asks in a stern voice, “Who is your bloodmother?”
I search my brain. Not Lauren, she was my fake mother. “The goddess Brighid,” I manage to get out, trying not to tack a question mark on the end of it.
“What is your primary bloodgift?” the priest asks.
My mind races around the word bloodgift. After a few tense seconds, I say, “Fire,” hoping it’s the right answer. “I start fires.” It sounds completely ridiculous. And yet everyone stares at me like it’s no big deal.
“Do you have a secondary gift?” he asks.
I could have more than one? I shake my head. “No.” Another so-called gift is the last thing I need.
There’s some whispering in the audience, like they didn’t expect me to say that.
The priest is unfazed. He reaches out and places a hand on my temple, closing his eyes. He whispers under his breath for several seconds. My eyes find Faelan again, and the mark on my forehead buzzes.
Suddenly the priest declares, “All is set aright!” so loud I nearly jump out of my skin.
“Blood, spirit, water, fire, and bone, the Balance is kept,” he continues. “All is as it should be. She is Otherborn, she is now one of us.” He motions to my head, then surveys the audience dramatically for several seconds, both the lower courtyard and the royal figures surrounding us on the balcony, like he’s trying to catch every eye in the place. “Her guard holds true,” he says. “Anyone may vie for her fealty, but only one House shall win this beauty’s honor. May the contest commence!”