Chosen (9781742844657) (42 page)

He'd written a list. He'd listened to Qasim's comments on the Academy's top scriers. He'd even made a point of talking to a few of them, although only Aristea had really stood out, odd and unusual as she was.

Then she'd crossed Qasim and landed herself right in front of Renatus's eyes.

Fate.

Then she'd turned out to be the only scrier in the whole cohort. The best scrier of her age anywhere.

Fate.

Then she'd been both reserved and outspoken, both self-doubting and quietly confident, both obedient and stubborn, a medley of paradoxes and contradictions that reminded him so, so much of the person he most needed to replace.

Fate.

It seemed –
seemed
– as though he'd already found what he was looking for.

As it turned out, he hadn't really known what he was looking for, because Aristea was nothing like the cold, fierce, self-powerful male he'd imagined he'd need to win his war. Instead, she was emotive (an Empath!), trusting, and of course, she was a girl.

She was perfect.

And he'd hurt her. That was reason enough to feel ashamed, but even more, he'd hurt her by the act of hurting
himself
. Remembering his sister brought up old feelings of guilt, inadequacy and loneliness, which had for years simmered and festered in his dark, tortured soul and reformed themselves into a single emotion. Now when he reflected on his old life he generally only felt self-hatred, because, really, all the other feelings were only going to lead there anyway. Might as well skip to the good bit.

Speaking of skipping to the good bit…

Renatus let his head fall against the window, staring out across the dark estate. Eventually he'd have to talk to Aristea about this, and it would be awful. She'd be upset, like she was tonight, and she could be angry and distant. If he left it until tomorrow night's detention she'd have a whole day to ponder which nasty emotions to bring with her. He'd seen into that imagination. Best not to let it go too long.

The right thing to do would be to go and find her right this instant and tell her everything.

Yes.

It would be the right thing to do.

Right now.

A minute passed and Renatus didn't move, his forehead still against the window glass. He was a coward, a pathetic coward, and he deserved all of this agony, every little twinge of it.

But Aristea wasn't, and didn't. He straightened and walked to the door. He froze at the doorway, procrastination striking again. What exactly was he going to do? Walk into her dormitory and ask her to step outside for a talk?

He wasn't good at this.

Why did Aristea have to feel so much like the past when she looked so much like the future?

‘Fate,' he reminded himself. There would be no future until he buried the past, or otherwise dealt with it appropriately. He couldn't bring himself to walk the path into the graveyard, and as a result he was drowning in the darkness of his own past, but Fate was throwing him a lifeline.

He raised a hand and the door opened. He had barely taken a step when a familiar presence registered with his senses.

Aubrey?

His fellow councillor exited the stairwell and approached down the hallway.

‘Renatus, can I have a word?' he asked brusquely. He was no Empath; he couldn't guess what an emotional mess the Dark Keeper was at that moment, how inappropriate this time was for any sort of “word”.

‘Uh,' he responded, torn. His colleague didn't seem to find his sudden lack of articulation concerning or surprising.

‘Lord Gawain wanted your opinion on something,' Aubrey began, tensely. He was already wondering, thinking about Teresa's task, worrying, and Renatus grabbed those thoughts right from his mind before he could verbalise them.

‘You can tell him I know already,' Renatus said. He glanced down the empty hallway. ‘She already told me.'

‘Did she, or was it your idea?' Aubrey demanded, his expression stony. Renatus turned his attention to him, and their icy gazes locked.

‘If it's a good idea, does it really matter?'

‘You're putting her in unnecessary danger,' Aubrey said, his voice barely controlled. ‘Emmanuelle is handling the situation fine.'

‘Emmanuelle handles everything fine. It isn't the point. I'll talk to you later.' Renatus went to step around him, his thoughts with his distraught student, but Aubrey took a step forwards, blocking his way.

‘No,' he said, angry. ‘There's no need for what you're doing. You've chosen to risk Teresa in order to protect Emmanuelle, and you've somehow convinced Lord Gawain that it's a great idea. Teresa isn't prepared for this risk. Now, I don't know what your game plan is, but ever since you started involving Emmanuelle in it she's changed. We can all see it. Jadon is going to flip out when he hears about this. We can't trust you, and we can't even trust Emmanuelle anymore. Do you really think we're going to leave you and Emmanuelle alone with Teresa and that ring?'

For fuck's sake…

Renatus would have done it himself, weeks ago, if he'd thought it was possible. The fact remained that Teresa was a better illusionist than he was. It was why she'd been chosen to replace him on the White Elm for that exact position when he'd been stepped up into Lisandro's empty seat.

‘Still unable to perceive the difference between what is best for the one and what is best for the whole?' Renatus asked coldly, taking care to glare
down
at Aubrey, who was only slightly shorter than he was. Sometimes people needed to be reminded of the status quo. ‘I asked if she thought she could do it; she says she can. She knows the stakes. If you and Jadon are so worried, make yourselves present when Emmanuelle goes to make the exchange. I won't be there.' He deliberately dragged his gaze from Aubrey to check the hallway again, and when he spoke again, his voice was dripping with sarcasm and resentment. ‘Make sure I don't send a pack of wolves with her, won't you?'

With a furious scowl, Aubrey turned and stalked away. Renatus watched him leave, disappointed in himself because defeating Aubrey had made him feel better, stronger. Confrontation would have weakened a good man like Lord Gawain.

Just another snippet of evidence to suggest that Renatus would never be what the Master had hoped he'd be.

Aubrey entered the stairwell and paused, looking down a few steps.

‘Isn't it a bit late for you to be up here?' he asked somebody. Renatus extended his senses and was deeply surprised by who he detected.

‘I left my book in detention,' Aristea explained as she moved past her spell-writing teacher. ‘Good night, Sir.'

Aubrey echoed her farewell and descended the stairs. Aristea stepped out of the stairwell and stood still, facing Renatus from the opposite end of the hall.

‘So, you've proved you're the better of us,' Renatus commented, unsurprised by this conclusion. Of course she was. She was the child, and yet she was the first one to go back and face the problem. While Renatus had deliberated, she must have walked to her room, stopped at her door and walked straight back.

‘Sir, I'm sorry about before,' she said, deciding it was best to be straight up. Renatus could read most of her thoughts as she thought them.

Is he mad at me? Why did I have to overreact like that? Why did he?

‘Aristea,' he said, using a very clear and precise voice, ‘if you ever apologise to me again without good cause, you will be excluded from this academy. I've spoken to you about this before. As much as I want you to stay here and fulfil your potential, I am tired of your self-worth issues.'

‘Oh, you're a fine one to talk,' she snapped, forgetting for a moment who she was talking to. She quickly remembered, eyes widening, and opened her mouth. ‘I'm–'

‘Ah!' Renatus raised a hand, forbidding her from continuing. How could she apologise for such brutal and necessary honesty? ‘No apologising. You owe me nothing. If you voice an opinion, I want to hear it. I do not expect an apology. I don't want one. You should never apologise for having independent thoughts. Nor for curiosity. If you have a question, ask it. I don't want to talk to you about this again. Are we clear on this?'

‘We're very clear, Sir,' she said, voice small again. Like Ana, after blowing up at their father.

‘And I don't want to hear “Sir” anymore, either,' he added. ‘Do I look like a knight to you?'

‘No.'

‘Good, so we're on the same page,' Renatus said. He regarded the teenager momentarily. She didn't really look much like Ana, except for the long hair and the similar height. It was really just the demeanour, then, and that aura. ‘I am the one who is sorry. I forgot about your sensitivity. I lost control. I promise I will be more careful in future. I'm sorry for what I caused you to feel.'

Aristea looked away, struggling with his words for a moment. She didn't like being apologised to any more than he did.

‘Perhaps it's better if you don't say sorry to me, either,' she suggested. ‘That way it's fair.'

He nodded obligingly.

‘That's fine.'

‘And since I can ask you anything,' she continued, thinking of ways to make things equal, ‘you can ask me anything.'

Perhaps it was strange that a powerful White Elm sorcerer in his twenties should be so pleased to see his friendship with a seventeen-year-old girl developing so well, but Renatus didn't care.

‘Alright,' Renatus agreed, determined not to let this opportunity go to waste. ‘Would you like to stay a while and talk? I think we have a few questions for each other.'

Aristea nodded, and walked over. Renatus waited for her to pass him before following her back into the office.

‘Absolutely anything, right?' she asked warily as the door closed behind them. Renatus nodded, steeling himself.

‘Absolutely anything,' he agreed, detecting her question long before she asked it. Why did she have to be so fixated on that awful place? ‘Ana is just one of the people buried in the graveyard in the orchard. She and my parents died together seven, nearly eight years ago. And before you ask that,' he added, overhearing her next wild thought train, ‘yes, they died in the orchard.'

They were just facts. He didn't have to feel them. Perhaps this wouldn't be as painful as he'd feared.

‘Which is why it feels so…' Aristea searched for the right word, and Renatus tried to hide his reaction to what he heard in her head.
Alluring? Magnetic?
‘…dark?'

Now it was Renatus's turn to hesitate and think of an appropriate response.

‘Partly,' he admitted, but refrained from going into detail, because it would mean admitting to the very worst he'd ever been, and he didn't want to be that, ever again. ‘It definitely could be.'

But probably wasn't.

‘My family died during a freak storm,' she stated, unexpectedly. She hadn't planned on saying this; it had just come out. She crossed her arms across her chest and leaned back against the closed door. ‘My mum, dad and brother were all killed. I was fourteen and my sister was nineteen.'

Her voice was detached and distant. She was recounting facts, too, choosing not to feel them. She was an observant learner. When Renatus answered a few moments later, his voice had the exact same tone.

‘By “freak storm”, you're referring to the kind of wild storm that wasn't predicted or even typical of the season,' he said. He wasn't expecting an answer, and she didn't yet give one. ‘You're talking about a massive storm that rolled in so quickly and unexpectedly that nobody had any time to think about what to do. The winds were so strong and fierce that whole branches were ripped from trees. Trees uprooted. The rain was sharp and heavy, and the wind flung the raindrops around like nails. And everywhere people ran, or went, or thought they might be safe, danger followed. Suddenly you felt their deaths, successively, like three rips through your soul. Suddenly, you were alone. And just as quickly as it hit and destroyed your whole life, the storm just drifted away.'

There: the whole dark tale, as horribly poetic as it deserved to be told.

Aristea blinked, her mouth hanging open. She wouldn't, couldn't have described the event as he did, but his words painted a picture in her mind that he read and recognised.

It was the same story. He'd suspected it – no, deep down, he'd known it must be…Fate had orchestrated this whole thing – but her face confirmed it. This was the first time she'd thought of her past in his presence, and he saw that in this one aspect, it was a mirror to his. Was this why Fate had brought them together?

Her thoughts were a wild mess even he could barely follow. He caught wisps here and there but he had no chance of keeping up.

How did he know? Did he read through my memories the same way he reads my mind? Had he guessed? No…description was too real…too detailed…Was he actually there, out of sight? Why didn't he help? He couldn't have stopped the weather, of course, nobody can…could have at least pulled Angela and I free of the wreckage of our home, instead of leaving us to dig our way out…

‘How do you know all this?' she eventually asked. Her hands were shaking with the effort of trying to rein in her insane imagination. Good to know she did actually try. Somehow, despite it, she hadn't actually realised the truth of the situation. Of all her wild theories, she hadn't connected the dots.

‘Aristea,' Renatus said, calmly, firmly, gently. ‘I was not there. I promise.' He waited a few seconds as she calmed down.
Relax…Relax…
'What I described was not your experience. It was mine.'

He tentatively reached out and touched her forearm, hoping to soothe her. She met his eyes but Renatus barely noticed, because his attention was drawn to another vision.

Nobody had any time to think…

Whole branches were ripped from trees…Trees uprooted…