“That was incredible. You were incredible!” Elise laughed and that quickly put Veaer out of sorts, her head hammering and her legs growing weak. But she knew there was a good reason, and she knew she was happy to be alive and with Elise right now. Alive. “I was afraid that we were going to lose everything.”

  “Everything?” Veaer perked up, and for a moment she felt her caemi ears and tail following suit, before realising that they had hidden themselves again on their trip back.

  “We have discovered ancient history beneath our very feet, in the presence of great heroes. We found those who want to follow in their footsteps and test our limits, maybe even break past them. The world feels like it can fit in my hands now, like… like we can really do it. Be part of the world, not be so tiny. Not just a dot on a butterfly’s wings. Finally, be part of something with Tychon—” Elise drew in a deep, deep breath and leaned in closer to Veaer. “Everything we have. Everything that is ours.”

  “Ours,” Veaer echoed, and she couldn’t help the way her gaze lowered to Elise’s lips, slightly chapped, stained with dark lipstick—and maybe she could call them hers too. Electricity shot up her arms and her mind buzzed with the song of Elise. “But what about… shouldn’t we…” She wet her lips with a flick of the tongue. “They hurt us.” And they have Tychon. They found him.

  “They can’t hurt us.” Elise’s voice grew definite, as if she had just spoken a fact into existence, and Veaer knew it to be true as the warmth of Elise’s body pressed against her own, forcing the grains of bark into her back, into her thighs, into her calves. “They can’t hurt us when we’re together. You and me, Veaer Rosell.”

  “Do you mean it?” Veaer pulled Elise’s face so close. Jasmine flowers and sandalwood and myrrh. Layered and complex, a mystery to undo at once.

  And in a flash of another lifetime, she wondered if they would’ve been ordinary. Not followed by ghosts, just two girls growing up who loved each other, and that was all.

  She would’ve painted portraits, written heartfelt letters and left flowers on Elise’s desk by morning. She would’ve told herself that she did deserve the romance she read in books and saw in shows. Their love may not have been remarkable to anyone but them.

  “I mean it.”

  Elise didn’t need any more words as their lips met and a spark erupted between them, waking every sleeping cell in Veaer’s body. The kiss was hesitant at first, treading gently and afraid to break something, anything. But each passing second, each press of their declaration grew a spring of comfort that deepened the kiss, now urgent and full of feeling. Their bodies drew even closer, melding together and dancing to the wind in the trees and the fire in their hearts. They lost each other and then found one another again, tender, and careful but intense and entirely overwhelming, as if this wasn’t just a second of desire bursting at the seams, but something that had to say everything. All without words, all in the darkness behind their eyelids as they just had to feel, feel, feel.

  And when their lungs demanded air, they pulled apart, just enough to see the mix of awe and disbelief swirling in their eyes, a shared sense of understanding holding them together.

  CHAPTER 29

  ADAIR AND HAIWRIN BOUDREAU

  Overnight, a small sheet of paper slipped under her door and upon seeing it in the morning, Veaer’s heart hammered in her chest. The last time this had happened, she almost couldn’t help the overwhelming desire to take hold of Elise, in several ways.

  But the handwriting was a striking resemblance to Haiwrin’s, asking her to meet him in the Music and Performance Block, at theatre one, at 10am.

  She turned to her alarm clock which read 9:48am so she barely woke up in time to get the message and had to change out of her pyjamas as well. With a rush to her closet, she grabbed the handle, only to lose her footing to pain sparking up her thighs.

  As she crashed into the desk that saved a bad fall, she groaned and clutched her stomach. Her arms didn’t get far before a new pain stung her and her arms seized up. Sweat beaded on her forehead and everything felt exceptionally warm despite her knowing of today’s autumn forecast. Detailed flashes of the crypt reminded her of the poison that still lived in her veins. She didn’t know where it was, where it would go; if it had reached her mind already and if the antidote did anything to stop that.

  Pins and needles attacked her feet and she silently screamed into her palm as her soles refused to lay steady, threatening her balance. A final brushstroke in this baroque canvas of twisted arms and grandeur. She swayed to the side and toppled to the floor, her side saved by the edge of her bed.

  She clawed at the carpet as she inched towards her desk again, where the amber glass bottle sat in the far corner near the wall, so as to not accidentally break it if it fell upon her chair or somehow the carpet shattered it instead. Tears ran down her cheeks when her bones felt like they were on the verge of breaking, but silent she remained. No sound, no alert.

  A flute played from somewhere else on the ground floor, and a violin joined in upstairs. Usually, she found music practise to be a suitable addition to the manor’s depiction of prestige and speciality. In these times, the instrumental only layered upon irony.

  When reaching up from the floor, her body held up by a shaking forearm despite its protests and creaking, she could barely scrape the desk’s top. She would have to climb her chair first. Her ounce of optimism came from the idea of having a proper seat and resting her aching back while she administered the shot.

  Eventually seated and out of breath, she concentrated every synapse into her arms and unscrewed the bottle, poured a shot into the lid and then threw her head back as the caramel liquid slid down her throat. Calming, healing, sanctuary.

  Everything numbed and cooled down. She could feel her limbs again and knew that her heart was beating.

  Somehow the experience lasted forever, but the clock read 9:53am.

  She took a deep, shaky breath, hoping that Elise had taken her medicine upstairs, and then resumed her routine to meet Haiwrin.

  The Music and Performance Block was impressively polished and decorated with a grand circular lobby, details never missed in even the ceiling. Each of the other three doorways, apart from the entrance, led to a different section of the block. Even peering through the wooden doors with tall glass windows revealed a beautifully dim-lit hallway lined with lamps, beckoning newcomers and familiar faces to indulge in the space and get lost for many, many hours.

  Veaer was determined to make it to Haiwrin punctually, but she feared that she was already past the designated meeting time due to her oversight and lack of early wake ups on Saturday mornings.

  She continued straight through the lobby which brought her to a wider corridor than the rest. Theatres had more foot traffic than the instrumental music studios, or the theory classrooms, and so the academy made room for loving parents and lasting academy patrons to attend presentation, play and screening nights. She especially enjoyed the water features indented into the wall, which always reminded her of swimming pools. The smell refreshed her mind and motivated her to get a hurry on to the end of the hallway where the sign for theatre one was lit up, indicating it was occupied.

  When she burst through the double doors, she was pleased to find Haiwrin at the other side of the theatre, pacing the stage from end to end, only a couple stage lights illuminated. She couldn’t tell much else from here, but she did note Haiwrin as a blue and black blob, his very own marker of caemi heritage as a blue fox even without his ears and tail.

  As she drew closer, agitated muttering joined his sharp steps across the wooden plank stage. He stopped every so often to hum a scale of notes, but then fell back into the frantic set of actions. He didn’t seem to realise that she had arrived.

  “Hai?” Veaer called and waved her arms, her shoulders slightly shrinking into her centre from a second-hand feeling of… something. Embarrassment, sadness, confusion?

  It was then that he really stopped and swung around, a smile suddenly dawning on his face, which appeared strange at first, but the relief in his loosened eyebrows and ultimate flow in his movements in climbing down from the stage calmed Veaer as well.

  “Oh, Veaer, you made it! I was worried that I put the note in the wrong door, or if you weren’t in your room, or you slept in…” He paused and placed his hands on either shoulder of Veaer, like he was making sure her entire being was there. Then he shifted her left to right, glancing behind her. “But Adair’s not with you.”

  “She’s meant to be here?” Veaer’s immediately switched back to alert, knowing that Adair wasn’t one to be late to these things. She hoped something hadn’t happened; the number of ghosts in this academy seemed to increase every day, she felt it. But only Tychon followed her.

  Haiwrin’s frown only deepened. “We need to have a very serious conversation.”

  Often Haiwrin said that as a joke. Sarcasm was one of his quickly equip weapons. But in this sudden call to meet, and Adair running late, she had every right to believe this was a proper serious conversation.

  “Do you want to talk about it before she gets here? Maybe we can run through what you’re going to say.” Despite Haiwrin and Adair being twins, their minds were not the same. A writing and literature student versus a music and performance student. One who wore light, breezy clothing, and one who wore dark, thick outfits. Even in mind, Veaer played mediator to ensure the two wouldn’t consume each other like twins sometimes did in the womb.

  Haiwrin took a deep breath and shook his body from top to bottom on the exhale. Then he stood with his feet together and clapped his hands together once. “Uh…” He stammered for many more moments before throwing his head into his hands and mumbling something. The tip of his ears brightened.

  Veaer chuckled and stuffed her hands in the pockets of her jacket. She could feel her collar way too much but refrained from fidgeting for Haiwrin’s sake. “Sorry, could you repeat that?”

  “I…” His eyes darted. Veaer’s did too, lest Adair appeared out of nowhere. “I want to leave the academy and take you and Adair with me.”

  Tychon’s ghost started to cry in her ears as if an alarm set off. Her eyes widened and her heartbeat raced, just like it did when she was being attacked by poison. A hand flew to her chest. Her folios and classes, the years she spent perfecting art styles she hated and writing essays on historical artists in preparation for the Adraredon Academy entrance exam, and now she could see the finish line where she would go on to another prestigious art university with a revered diploma in hand.

  Tychon stopped crying, but he hid in a dark corner of the stage, wrapped in webs and silk.

  “You want to leave the academy,” Veaer repeated, slowly. To buy herself more time for thought, or because she already knew what she would say and didn’t want to admit it. “With all three of us. Why would you take me? Where would I go?”

  The easiest questions to ask were the ones that related to her livelihood outside of the academy. She did have a parent to go back to, a couple younger siblings who were growing up too fast. But she didn’t speak to them very often, didn’t take up the school’s payphone service that connected each building and the academy to the outside world.

  And that didn’t consider where she would complete the last three quarters of senior year. If she could even jump ship that easily and continue where she left off.

  In these walls, it was easy to forget everything else outside, and easy to remain attached to everything that Adraredon Academy had to give.

  “Of course, all three of us. Adair’s my sibling, yes—but you’re my best friend, Ve.” He smiled but his eyes were swirling with conflict. Veaer instinctively glanced downwards and regretted it. She didn’t realise Haiwrin saw her so importantly in his life. “I didn’t—I haven’t thought about that yet. But we can go somewhere together. We could… could rent a nice apartment in the town and then work on applications to a great program somewhere else in Syriphia.”

  Her heart clenched with the desperation yet hope in his voice, the ideas flashing in his mind, a dream surrounded by fluffy clouds and butterflies.

  “I don’t have the money for—I can’t, I mean my family… we’re so close to—?” The sentence tapered off with a whine and she squeezed her eyes shut. She was yet to mention the most important question. “Why do you want to leave?”

  Haiwrin turned around and silently climbed back up the stage. He sat on the edge and hoisted Veaer up after him. “I’ve had a lot of time to think about life recently.”

  “Life?” She couldn’t help the chuckle in the back of her throat. Life was so vague.

  “And death. I guess the rumours going around have caught up to me. Maybe he really is gone.” Haiwrin didn’t need to mention Tychon, for he lingered by the stage curtains, and kept getting closer. “I know these things aren’t common and maybe we don’t have anything to worry about. But I don’t want to spend the rest of the year looking over my shoulder, wondering if something will happen to Addie, or you, or me, at any moment. Tychon disappeared and no one knew.”

  Specks of dirt fell onto Haiwrin’s shoulder, and she reached out without a second thought, only to realise nothing was there and she was just holding his shoulder for what she imagined was Tychon’s doing. She squeezed to make up for it and Haiwrin gave her a look of appreciation.

  He took another deliberate breath. “I think I’m scared, Veaer. I’m scared to leave you and everyone behind.”

  Me too.

  She pulled him closer and hugged him tight.

  The double doors slammed open, a flurry of footsteps rushing towards them and a familiar heave of breath permeating the hall. Veaer released her arms.

  “Haiwrin! Ve!” Adair’s hair was a mess, and she was still wearing her uniform, so she either didn’t change from yesterday or decided to dress this way for a Saturday. She picked at her lips as she slowed her approach and glanced between them. Something was clearly wrong. “I’m so sorry for being late.”

  She shuffled over to Veaer and grabbed her palms, kissing the back of her hands. Then she hopped over to Haiwrin and laid a hand on his knee.

  “Did I miss very much?” she asked when no one said anything.

  Haiwrin continued to look elsewhere, and then met Veaer’s eyes. Help.

  Veaer nodded slowly. “Not too much. But I think this is a difficult topic for Hai to share… take a seat?” At first, she gestured to her own lap and when the twins broke into chuckles, she shifted over to allow her a space between Haiwrin and herself.

  Just as Adair was getting into her spot, Haiwrin blurted out, “We’re leaving the academy.” A beat of silence. “Wait—”

  “I think that came out wrong,” Veaer immediately noted and stared at the side of Adair’s head, as if she could go into the caemi’s mind and hold the gears in place so Haiwrin had enough time to recover.

  Adair lifted her hands to fix her hair but dropped them as soon as the words processed.

  “I didn’t mean it that way,” Haiwrin added. “This is supposed to be a discussion, not an announcement.”

  Adair narrowed her eyes. “Then discuss,” she said carefully.

  He explained again the same as to Veaer, with more composure. About life and death, about renting an apartment in the next town over, about applying to new programs, and being safe. About love and being scared.

  “I’m not leaving.” Adair’s expression was hard and set into a small, straight lipped smile and her eyes still trying to read her brother and Veaer like they were really joking, and she was meant to figure it out.

  “And?” Haiwrin noticed words unsaid. His fingers climbed his arm in anticipation.

  Adair jumped off the stage and turned to Haiwrin with her fists on her hips. “Are you serious? We’re almost done with our studies, what’s another few months?”

  Flashes of blue and orange hair, Veaer’s head flicking from side to side. The theatre became their grounds for debate and Veaer was nothing but a potted plant in the corner, listening but without a mind for a say.

  Haiwrin: “A few months? And in those few months I might never see you again.”

  Adair: “I can’t believe we’re having this conversation. You really think we’re just going to leave everything behind? C'est n'importe quoi! I thought a performance student like you would be better at looking at the bigger picture of things.”

  Haiwrin: “You don’t understand—”

  Adair: “I do understand.”

  Haiwrin: “And don’t you dare bring our majors into this. What if I were to say you focus on the details way too much with blue curtains and yellow wallpaper? Literature students make me laugh sometimes.”

  Adair: “Okay, you’re telling me not to bring it into the discussion, and then you bring it in? Much of a hypocrite.”

  Haiwrin: “Adair, I don’t think you’re taking Tychon’s disappearance serious enough.”

  Adair: “Haiwrin, you’re telling all of us—not just you, but all three of us—to just leave everything behind?”

  Haiwrin: “What even is everything? The tests, the essays, your books, this hall, Veaer’s portfolios, which are portable, actually, and the trail of imminent death?”

  Adair: “Mes dieux! You’re being dramatic.”

  Haiwrin: “You’re being difficult!”

  Adair and Haiwrin: “Veaer! What do you think?”

  Two sets of eyes stared at her, pleading in their own senses. Adair’s cheeks flared red, the tip of her ears bright as well. Haiwrin’s gaze was glassy, and his hands shook in his lap.

  Veaer inhaled loudly, like she had just broken the water tension of an incredibly still pool. She couldn’t bear to continue looking into their souls and instead stared at her empty palms. Her arms began to numb.

  “I think that…” The tension surrounding her was palpable—her lungs constricted and her breaths sounded raspy in her lungs.