The Chain Page 18

  For a moment, Alex thought about mentioning Helena, but a desire to protect her held his tongue—he wasn’t convinced she had been involved in their capture at all. No matter which way he looked at it, it didn’t make sense that Helena had dragged them all the way out to the lighthouse to be captured, when she could just as easily have sounded the alarm when they were in the bell tower, or even when they were just outside the villa walls. If she hadn’t been responsible in any way, Alex didn’t want to get her into trouble. Besides, if she had been the cause of their capture, he was fairly certain it wouldn’t have been on purpose. Perhaps somebody had seen her rowing to the island, or caught wind of what she was up to. Until he saw Helena again, he couldn’t be sure of what had actually led the guards to the lighthouse.

  “You intrigue me, Alex. You and your friends,” Alypia purred. “You are all very talented individuals. Even the weakest among you is still stronger than most, especially the caliber one expects among that motley crew at Spellshadow. I can see the frustration in some of your friends, Alex—the desire to be taught properly, which is something I know you weren’t experiencing at Spellshadow Manor. It isn’t seen as all that important to teach well over there, and goodness knows the place has been run into the ground. Always the bare minimum, copying lines out of textbooks and learning rudimentary magic. It’s not exactly thrilling stuff, that’s for sure, and it leads to sedentary, bored minds. Not the kind of minds required of superior mages. For you and your friends, that kind of teaching and learning is simply not good enough.” She smiled, flashing pearly white teeth, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. There was a twist of displeasure in her voice, leaving Alex to guess whether it was the reminder of her brother that had brought on such annoyance.

  “My friends should never have been brought to Spellshadow in the first place—it’s sick and it’s wrong,” Alex remarked.

  She nodded thoughtfully. “A barbaric necessity, truly, but a necessity nonetheless. We can debate the morality of such things another day, but for now, we must make the most of where we are. See it as an opportunity and not a curse. I know certain friends of yours see it that way. They understand that there are things to be learned here—interesting, wonderful things, that nowhere else can offer,” she murmured, her voice like honey. “But Alex, you are a different notion entirely. I can see a talent in you that was not fully nurtured at a place like Spellshadow Manor. And it could not have been fully nurtured; they simply don’t have the skills or resources necessary to teach somebody like you. Someone with such rare promise,” she whispered, her eyes gleaming with excitement.

  Alex froze, remaining silent. He did not know how much Alypia knew of his special circumstances; he guessed she was suspicious, at the very least, about his Spellbreaker abilities, thanks to the Head’s vague statements about the importance of him being found, though he was fairly certain she already knew precisely what he was. Alypia was not a stupid woman, by any stretch of the imagination. That was why she had referred to him as ‘special’—he had come to realize ‘special’ actually meant ‘Spellbreaker’.

  “You must miss your mother terribly,” she said evenly, switching the subject as she looked him straight in the eyes. “It must be hard for you. I can see why you were so desperate to escape. I don’t blame you, in fact. If it were my mother and she were sick, perhaps dying, I know I would do the same. Quite honorable, really. It’s not the same for the others, is it? At least their families all have each other, but your mother has no one, does she? All she had was you, and then you followed our little French girl through the gates and that was that—she lost you. Tragic, really, as you would never have entered that place otherwise. You were not on any radar, nor did we think we wanted you—but along you came anyway,” she whispered. Alex wasn’t sure if she was taunting him, but the mention of his mother made his throat clamp up.

  “Don’t talk about her,” he snapped. It was clear, as she spoke, that she knew things she shouldn’t know, making Alex aware that she and the Head had spoken further of him and his home life. Knowledge was power, and she held the ace. But there was no toying involved in the way she spoke of what she knew; it was not an attempt to tug on his heartstrings, as Aamir had done with his offer. Alypia was much more matter-of-fact about it, stating what she knew and what could be done.

  “I speak only of her to give you hope, Alex. I don’t mean pie-in-the-sky, fairy-dust hope—I mean real, solid potential. Your mother is still ailing, and yes, she is alone, but her treatment is working and she will be well for a good while longer. She is naturally heartbroken that you are gone, but it’s almost as if the hope of your return is keeping her going—she will not give up until you are home, and I don’t think we should let her down, do you?” she continued. Despite Alex’s feelings toward Alypia, he could not deny that her words gave him courage.

  It was all he wanted, to see his mother again. To hear from Alypia’s lips that she was alive was the greatest gift anyone had ever given him, and he had to thank the Headmistress for that. Night after night, he would dream of his mother and the loss he felt. Sometimes, they would be nightmares, in which he would run down the street and knock on the door, only to find that hundreds of years had passed and his mother was long dead. Others were less farfetched, as when he dreamed he had made it home, only to discover he was a few days too late, and she had died of a broken heart. There were happy ones too, in which they were joyfully reunited, but mostly they were dark, twisted, terrible visions that haunted him long after he awoke.

  “I don’t understand why you’re telling me all this,” said Alex quietly.

  “I have an offer to make you, Alex,” she explained. “I wish to teach you at this school, which is a little non-traditional for us, but I can see great talent in you and your friends that requires the proper tutelage, not some place where you will waste away, your skills never fully realized. You will study here for five years, and at the end of those years, you will undergo the Ascension Ceremony with the rest of your class. If you win, you walk free, back to your mother and the non-magical world if you so choose. If you lose, you will be subjected to the Gifting Ceremony.”

  It was not nearly as generous as the offer Aamir had made to him, under the duress of the golden band, but it sounded like a more honest one. In fact, it sounded so genuine that it made Alex wonder about the offer Aamir had made him, and whether or not it had truly been a real one.

  “You have a stronger chance of survival here, with me, than with any other offer you are likely to receive,” she added, with a slight wink to her words that only made Alex more suspicious of Aamir’s previous offer.

  Alex shrugged. “I don’t know what those ceremonies are. How can I say yes to something when I don’t know what I’m getting into?” he said, playing dumb.

  Alypia’s eyes narrowed, flashing with underlying threat. She was onto him. “Don’t play the fool, Alex—you know very well what they are.”

  “Very well,” he murmured. “What happens to the essences you collect from the Gifting Ceremony?” He figured it was as good a time as any to ask the woman in the know.

  “They are stored for further use,” she replied, the harsh edge of her voice softening.

  The response made Alex think about the row upon row of black bottles and one name in particular.

  “Did Blaine Stalwart come here?” he asked. The question seemed to confuse the Headmistress for a moment as she mulled over the name. “An older boy, tall, very skillful, though he wasn’t ready to graduate yet—he got in trouble for breaking one of the golden lines at Spellshadow and was taken away. We never heard from him again, except the Head said he had been sent to Stillwater House,” Alex elaborated.

  She smiled coldly. “I remember the boy.”

  “He did come here?”

  She nodded. “He was permitted to fight for his survival at a special event, but he could not defeat the skill of the Stillwater student he was pitted against, and so he was returned to Spellshadow Manor to undergo his ow
n Gifting Ceremony—or ‘graduation,’ I believe you call it?” She waved her graceful hand. “His essence is in storage somewhere—though much good it was. He wasn’t strong enough, so the essence was a pitiful one.”

  It came rushing back to Alex—‘Not matured enough.’ Blaine Stalwart hadn’t been strong enough to compete against a Stillwater student and had lost his life, as well as having his essence torn away much too prematurely, all for one twisted rule. A pointless, useless, wasteful exercise. Alex felt the familiar prickle of resentment rising through him.

  “How could you?” he spat.

  “The boy was given a fair chance. He had more hope in my arena than he did in the dusty halls of Spellshadow, believe me,” she remarked calmly.

  He could not deny her logic, and yet he couldn’t shake his anger. Fury burned bright within him, at all of them—all the cruel, uncaring, magical beings.

  “Now, I need an answer,” she pressed, ignoring his distress. “My way or the hard way?”

  Through the red mist of anger, he thought about her offer. It was certainly tempting. “Repeat the terms to me again.”

  “You will study here, with your friends alongside you, for five years. I will teach you and make sure I can find somebody who can assist with your particular skillset—I will build you all up, until you are ready to compete in the Ascension Ceremony, at the end of your five years. In that time, you will have free rein of the place, and be treated as any other Stillwater student. At the end of the ceremony, if you win, you walk. If you lose, you will undergo the Gifting Ceremony.”

  “No hidden surprises?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

  Alypia shook her head. “I ask only that the bargain be upheld. There are no hidden surprises, but if, at any stage, you or I should break the terms of agreement, then the offer will change.” She smiled icily.

  “How will it change?”

  “If I break my side of the treaty, I will let you and your friends go home, no further strings attached. If you break your side of the treaty, your essence will be immediately forfeit,” she declared, her cold tone making Alex shiver.

  Unbelievably, Alex thought it seemed fair. Plus, it meant he had more time, in a safer environment, to come up with a plan for how to get his friends safely home. Within this magical world, he still wasn’t sure how to get back to the real world, but he knew he could research portals and travel techniques with the great library at his disposal. Knowledge wasn’t only a weapon Alypia could use—he could use it too. As much as he hated to admit it, the more he thought about it, Stillwater House seemed to be a far better prison than Spellshadow Manor.

  Slowly, hardly believing the words coming out of his mouth, Alex made his decision. “I agree to your terms.”

  Smiling, she pulled a scroll from the top drawer of her desk and pushed it across the marble toward Alex. It had the terms of the offer already written upon it in an elegant, italic hand, which made it seem all too real. Frowning suspiciously, he suspected the scroll to be magical in some way, to ensure the agreement was carried out, but, as he pressed his hands to the words, he felt that it was nothing but paper.

  The contract was between them alone, and neither was sure of the other keeping their side of it.

  Chapter 22

  After signing the contract, Alex was swiftly dismissed from the Headmistress’s office. Princess Alypia watched him as he was led away, toward a different wing of the villa. Through the windows, he could see that it was late morning, with the sun not quite at its highest point in the sky, and though he and his friends had only been captured less than half a day before, he felt as if he had been awake for weeks.

  The walk was long but scenic, as Alex took in the intricate tapestries that draped the walls of several hallways, showing ancient scenes of battle and beautiful maidens bathing in lustrous forests, being watched by sprites and mythical beasts. It reminded him of a gallery trip he had been on during high school, where they had been asked to pick a painting and sit in front of it with a sketchbook and pencil, to try to emulate the far superior work on the wall. The images on the tapestries and in the large murals that adorned the villa were of the same exceptional artistry, and though he was tired, he marveled at the beauty of the place. Everything was thought out, to the smallest detail. Hanging baskets full of fragrant, vivid flowers showered the neutral masonry with much-needed color, filling the air with a heady, sweet scent. Fountains babbled pleasantly in the piazzas as he stepped across the sun-dappled tiles, listening to the running water that flowed from the tilted urn of a perfectly sculpted statue.

  Although it couldn’t yet be midday, the sun was warm on Alex’s face as he followed his guard out into the courtyards and semi-open walkways, emerging from beneath archways only to duck back into the cool shade of other cloisters and down endless corridors of the same beautiful, pale stone. Wherever he was being led, it was a long way from the Headmistress’s office.

  After heading up some stairs into a well-lit, glass-fronted hallway that looked out over a small square, filled with a few benches and slender trees that shaded any sitters from the hot sun, the guard paused beside a door marked with a golden “43.”

  “This is your room,” stated the guard, a six-foot Adonis with wolf-like gray eyes.

  “Thank you,” mumbled Alex. He pushed open the door.

  He was expecting a dormitory, much like the one he had shared with Jari and Aamir back at Spellshadow, but was surprised to find it was a single room—small but comfortable, with a bed against one wall and a desk that sat beneath a large, shuttered window. There was another door at the far end of the room that led to a private bathroom, complete with a tub. Everything was simple, clean, and elegant, much like the rest of Stillwater House.

  When Alex turned around, he saw that the guard had gone, leaving him to get acquainted with his new living space. The bathtub called to him; he could feel the layers of grime crawling along the surface of his skin, begging to be sloughed off in a deep pool of hot, soothing water.

  He was about to turn the faucets on when a light knock came at the door.

  “Come in,” called Alex cautiously.

  Aamir poked his head into the room, a broad grin on his face. “I’m just next door—thought I’d come and see how you were doing,” he explained.

  Alex frowned. “I thought you were in the infirmary?”

  “I was. They ran a few spells through me and released me with the prescription of ‘bed-rest,’” he replied. “I do feel pretty worn out… It has been a trying few weeks,” he added with a sheepish expression.

  It was the understatement of the century, but Alex was warmed by the awareness within Aamir’s eyes; it was as if his former friend were coming back to him, piece by piece, the real Aamir gathering strength every day.

  “What happened to you back there?” asked Alex, plopping onto the soft sheets of his new bed.

  “With the Headmistress?” Aamir replied.

  Alex nodded, realizing he could have meant any number of things when it came to Aamir. “Yeah. Did she make you an offer you couldn’t refuse?” he joked, doing his best Godfather impression.

  Aamir chuckled. “She did. I never expected to be making another deal with the devil, but, honestly, this one seemed almost… reasonable. Five years and a fifty-fifty chance of survival. Is that weird?”

  “Not at all. It’s one of the most reasonable offers I’ve heard.” Alex shook his head, glancing at Aamir with curiosity. The older boy was struggling to look Alex in the eye, and Alex thought he knew why. Seizing the opportunity, Alex dove in. “Speaking of offers… did you mean the one you offered me, back in the ballroom at Spellshadow, when you were still Professor Escher?”

  It was a question that had been bugging Alex for some time, especially as it kept coming up. Even Alypia had seemed amused by the notion of Aamir’s offer, when she alluded to it in her office. But, more than that, Alex couldn’t get out of his mind how strange it was that the golden band on Aamir’s wrist hadn’t buzzed or c
rackled or made Aamir wince, when he had made the offer, which it surely would have done if he had been doing something he wasn’t supposed to be doing. Which begged the question: had Aamir been acting on his own impulses, or had he been instructed by the Head to make the offer, never meaning the words he had spoken? It hadn’t occurred to Alex at the time, that the band hadn’t made a peep when Aamir offered freedom, but the longer he had thought about it, the more it bothered him.

  Aamir shifted uncomfortably, a plea in his eyes to not be made to answer.

  “Tell me the truth, Aamir. You owe me that much,” pressed Alex, trying not to let frustration taint his words.

  Aamir shook his head miserably. “The truth is, Alex… I don’t know. I don’t know if it came from me or if it came from the Head and I was merely his pawn—for what awful purpose, I cannot tell you. The lines were blurred back then; my mind was as much his as it was my own. It was like he was in there, moving things around without my say-so. I was a puppet, being forced to say and do things I would never have done, had I been in control of my own mind. But I was not in control, Alex. You have to believe me when I say that.” Aamir looked at Alex with wide-eyed desperation. “When the curse was broken, it jumbled everything—I couldn’t tell you which thoughts belonged to me and which to the Head. And though I know you don’t believe me, there are many memories that are shut off to me now… It’s like the curse being broken locked pieces of my mind away that were not intended for my own eyes. Everything was all mixed in together and so hazy I couldn’t think straight. I am still trying to fix it all back together. Do you understand?”

  “So you don’t know anything. Is that what you’re saying?” asked Alex, somewhat dejected.

  “The golden line on my wrist had such a strong hold over me—I can’t be sure if my offer was genuine or not, and for that I am eternally sorry,” murmured Aamir wretchedly. “But please believe that I would never have done anything to hurt you. I would like to hope it was the real me coming through, trying to set you free before anyone powerful found out what you are, but I can’t promise it was. The memory of it is like a fuzzy, warped picture in my mind, and though I wish I had a better answer for you—I am afraid I do not.”