He holds up his hand. A red smear streaks down his thumb. “Is this part of acclimating?”
“Actually, yes.”
With him so near, I catch the familiar scent I’d smelled on Hildi earlier in the night. She’d reeked.
Of Armin.
I smile at my brother, knowing his little secret. He’d spent the night in very close proximity to the Valkyrie. I’m not the only one acclimating.
Agis shakes his head, muttering curses about me being a whore. Rupert simply focuses on the map. Miya holds my eye. “Do what you have to, Marshal, but understand why we’re here. The longer it takes to find the stone, the longer we’re bound here together.”
I shrug. “Give me a job and I’ll do it. Whatever you want, I’m at your service.”
Armin rests his hand on my shoulder and says, “No one is asking much of you right now other than focus—"
“And to keep your fucking trousers on,” Agis spats.
I nod, willing to agree to get him to back off. There’s a difference between me and the other Immortals; I’m ready to save the world just like they are, but I definitely plan on having fun while I do it.
25
Hildi
The note tells me to head down the main hallway after breakfast and turn at the multicolored banner. It’s signed by Agis.
Although Marielle wasn’t exactly pleasant when I woke up this morning, she wasn’t quite as hostile as the night before. I suspected we both nursed headaches from that cherry-flavored alcohol and regrets about our behavior over men. Marshal wasn’t my only problem. There had been the awkward moment waking up wrapped in Armin’s body. His strong, muscular, amazing body.
At breakfast I down a cup of coffee, grab a pastry, and head down the main hall. As I scan the walls for the multicolored banner, I take in my surroundings. It’s the first time I’ve really done so. This isn’t the academic wing or how we get to the dorms. It’s a little more formal and I assume it’s where the administration offices are located. Like the rest of the school, there are gray stone walls and wide archways, but here things are more intricate. Stone carvings hover over doorways and plaster sculptures are mounted in narrow
alcoves. The sculptures remind me of the large one outside, the faces twisted into a demon's scream. At the base of the main double-sided staircase is a circular landing, with a set of stairs going up and two hallways leading away. The stairs are made of marble, with a thick carpet runner. Hanging over each entrance is a banner with a symbol woven on each one. The banners are solid colors; red, green, black, and white. I turn and see the staircase that leads down. A similar, but different, banner hangs over head. It’s a rainbow of all the colors.
I move in that direction.
The staircase is steep and filled with more statues, tapestries, and dark paintings of violent battles. Before long I reach a platform with a closed door. It’s no more ornate than any others in the building. It’s made of a thick wood and carved with symbols. A thick, iron knob and keyhole are at waist level. An uneasy feeling settles in my bones the longer I stand in front of it. A whisper tickles the inside of my ears—a warning. One I ignore.
I try the handle, it doesn’t budge.
Well, great.
“Agis?” I call out. Nothing but my voice echoes back. I try the door again but it’s locked. I head back up the stairs and study the artwork, wondering if something in here is a clue.
The images are bloody, something I can handle. I’ve been in terrible battles before. I scan the artwork looking for symbols or something connected to the stone. It would help if we knew what it looked like? Plain like a rock? A crystal? A jewel?
What I do notice, and haven’t before, is the repetition of colors; white, black, red, and green. Footsteps echo on the hard steps and I file that information away for later. I turn, expecting Miya to come down the steps, but it’s another familiar face.
“Luke?” I frown. “What are you doing here?”
He runs his hand through his black hair. “Looking for you, actually. I was waiting to talk to you after breakfast and you took off.” He glances around, eyes flicking toward the door. “You know students aren’t allowed down here, right?”
“No,” I say, innocently, “I didn’t. I just got turned around and then I saw the artwork. I kind of got distracted.”
He looks over my shoulder at the painting. “Sometimes it’s hard to remember why we’re here, but then I see these paintings and it brings it back home, you know?”
“Yeah, it’s pretty jarring.”
He reaches out and does the unthinkable. He touches the ancient painting, running his fingers over the oil. “Once a year I visit my father. It’s part of the condition he made with my mother. She didn’t want me living in hell. They created a compromise. I live most of the year at the Academy. A month with my mother and one with my father.”
“What’s it like?”