Elettra waited for Ivo outside the Dean’s office. They hadn’t said a word since they were caught in the back rooms of the lecture hall-- an area that they didn’t know was strictly off-limits.
When Ivo came out, Elettra looked up at him wonderingly:
“A mere talking-to,” Ivo rubbed the back of his neck shaking head.
“I got the same,” Eletta rose to her feet with a sigh.
“So...” Ivo began as they both slowly walked down the hallway, “you’re coming to dinner tonight?”
“News travels fast.” Elettra narrowed her eyes toward the end of the Main Hall where the bright afternoon light was pouring in.
“Not as fast as how you failed miserably in Stryker’s class.”
“Let me guess: Taro? Locke?” Elettra rolled her eyes, “or any of the thousands of Starlings that swarmed me today?”
Ivo nodded vaguely in agreement: he had seen her almost constantly surrounded.
“Which is why you’ll blend right in when you come to dinner. Starlings always flock together.”
Elettra hated being known as Taro’s fiancee and tried to downplay it as much as possible. Having dinner at the Starling house would only solidify that fact more. But she did like being around Ivo, and Sparrow was oddly charming. More importantly, Taro was the only person at the school that kept her sane—even when he was driving her insane. And the idea of being alone in her rooms or having dinner with Portia and Onyx made her want to cry.
Elettra had only one other class that Monday: it was a small class with her favorite professor. Professor McClare and the other students would all gather in the clocktower’s classroom, where Elettra could look out on all of Haightford and its lovely, stony spires and shining domes. Elettra and the others would read theories surrounding the Mysteries, then try to conjure from what they read.
When Elettra finally walked out of class it was already growing dark. She slowly wandered back to her rooms—her mind still buzzing from the lesson. When she finally unlocked her door, she heard a voice sound from below: it was Sparrow.
Elettra hadn’t even opened her door when Sparrow climbed the stairs, out of breath.
“There you are!” Sparrow gasped. Thick, circular locks fell around her face.
“I didn’t know you lived here…”
“I don’t!” Sparrow pressed her hand next to Elettra’s door to steady herself. “I’ve come to collect you!”
Elettra tried to suppress a smile. “Collect?”
Elettra didn’t like being any more of an object than she already was to her mother, Onyx, and Portia.
“Oh, it’s not like you’re a child—Taro couldn’t make himself,” Sparrow tried to explain.
“He’s not living up to his husband duties,” Elettra let her fingers run along her key.
Then Sparrow took a step closer narrowing her eyes: “Are you two…? Well… I mean, are you both…?
Elettra lifted her eyebrows as she watched Sparrow: she waited for her to say it. Was Taro really in love with Elettra? Did Elettra really love him back? Elettra hated the topic, but to ask for those details was a step too far, but Elettra softened when she watched how Sparrow was trying to arrange her words in a delicate way.
“Taro and I are close, but not romantic,” Elettra wanted to move on from the subject, and she hoped that by finally opening her door, Sparrow would talk about something else.
Elettra was relieved when Sparrow turned her attention to the room – “Is this yours?”
Elettra nodded: the deep damask walls and the plush, golden couch in the middle were the first things that would catch anyone’s eye. Tall, vibrant paintings of roses and tulips and ancient goddesses adorned the walls, and a fresh vase of white flowers were centered toward the back of the room.
“I didn’t know the dorms were like this,” Sparrow glanced at Elettra.
“I don’t think they are,” Elettra admitted quietly, “but if you have a mother like mine…”
Elettra trailed off when Sparrow looked directly at her.
“I’ve heard about the Tariels,” Sparrow nodded, smiling with understanding. “I’m sure it’s not easy.”
But Elettra just smiled: she didn’t need to say that of course it was not easy. Being a Tariel felt like a curse. And whether Sparrow could sense that or not, Elettra was grateful when she said:
“Well, let’s get cracking!” And stepped toward Elettra’s room.
It wasn’t even an hour when Elettra emerged from her room with Sparrow behind her. Elettra clutched her coat around her.
“I hate this dress,” Elettra muttered.
“You look amazing in it.”
“It’s a dinner,” Elettra was trying not to protest against Sparrow’s kindness, “not a ball.”
“It’s going to be fun tonight!” Sparrow reached for Elettra’s dark fringe that covered most of her eyebrows. She let her fingers dance through them making them a little fuller. “They bring out your eyes.”
Elettra hated her own eyes—large, bold, and dark. Her mother thought she always looked angry. “You should look softer!” And with the tapered ends of her heart-shaped lips, Elettra also thought she looked imperious. Imperious and angry. It wasn’t that Elettra was trying to make friends, but she preferred not to look so obvious about it.
Sparrow grabbed Elettra’s hand, and Elettra was pulled through her room, through the hall, and out the door and into the cold air. Eventually, Sparrow stopped pulling her, and the two girls briskly walked toward the edge of campus. Sparrow was describing to Elettra how she met Magnus. Elettra figured she would hear the story sooner or later, but it wasn’t as annoying as she thought it would be: but Sparrow was sweet, and it didn’t seem Magnus was totally indifferent to her.
When they arrived, the tall Starling house was lit up. Its light blue exterior had white birds in flight painted along the sides. And what was once a lush vine of ivy was now a brown spider-like covering over the front. It still looked charming with the candles in the window and the golden light flooding out from each square window. They passed through the little gate, and the double, red doors were already inviting. Sparrow stamped whatever residual snow and mud on her boots: Elettra was grateful that Sparrow didn’t outfit her in uncomfortable shoes. She kept on her pointed black boots that laced her ankles. The leather had molded around her feet with time making them the only comfortable shoes that Elettra chose to wear during winter. When Sparrow pushed open the door, Elettra could hear life from within—racing feet, voices, laughter bubbling from over the banisters. She could also smell stewed cranberries and glazed ham. To the right, Elettra saw a long table with white linen and the table set. To the left were a group of Starlings, flashing light, and threads of magic swirling in the air and crackling. All the boys were dressed in their Starling-blue sweaters, while all their girlfriends and boyfriends either glittered or shone in velvet.
“See,” Sparrow whispered as she peeled off her coat, “you’ll fit right in.”
But Elettra still clutched her coat. Sparrow had chosen a deep teal dress—a distinctive Tariel color that reached and softly gathered around her jaw and wrists. It was mostly lace until the bodice and skirt that brushed around her calves. The color made her pale skin and rosy lips stand out more from under her dark hair.
“Take it off,” Sparrow instructed firmly but smiling.
The only thing that reassured Elettra in that moment was this: Locke wouldn’t be at dinner.
That was the one consolation.
Elettra slowly peeled off her coat, and once she had hung it up, Sparrow grabbed her hand and they crossed over to where the other Starlings were.
Elettra wanted to whisper that this was a terrible idea, but she didn’t have to. As soon as Elettra stepped into the room, it grew quiet as all eyes fell on her. In the mess of people, she spotted Taro who was seated by the fire –“Finally!”
He leapt up. Elettra could see in his dark, caramel eyes that he had already drunk quite a bit. He slipped Elettra’s hand through his arm, “I didn’t think you’d make it!”
“Sparrow can be persuasive.”
“We hear it all from Magnus,” Taro nodded to Magnus.
Sparrow dug her fingers into her tear ducts and Elettra just exhaled, exasperated.
“What?” he asked, “What did I say?”
“Is it almost time to eat?”
Elettra noticed that most of the Starlings had already fallen back into their conversations, and she was grateful that she was no longer the center of attention.
“Don’t be coarse!” Taro pinched her chin and then tossed his head to have her follow, “first, you drink.”
Taro grabbed a decanter with a magenta-colored liquor and poured Elettra a too-full glass.
“I’m not going to drink all that!”
Taro was about to protest that he’d drink all that when a woman in long brown dress and a shock of grey approached the threshold holding a bell. She rang it three times—“Dinner is served.”
“You got your wish, my lady,” Taro stuck out his elbow to Elettra to take. When Elettra took it she realized that it was Taro needed steadying.
“Are you going to survive?” Elettra whispered trying not to laugh. She didn’t want to laugh. She was furious: how could Taro be too intoxicated to help her through a dinner with people she didn’t even know.
When they drew closer to the table, Elettra saw that the table had name-cards. Hers, of course, was next to Taro. But before she could notice, a delicate hand reached for the name-card on the other side of Taro. Ivo suddenly and surreptitiously switched the name cards so that he could sit next to Taro. When Elettra met Ivo’s gaze he was already smiling back at her.
“I saw how much he had to drink,” Ivo whispered and shrugged.
People began filing in as Elettra and Taro were just pulling out their chairs. But when Taro spotted Ivo he loomed over him, squinting his eyes as though he didn’t recognize him.
Ivo was whispering up at Taro about something that Elettra couldn’t quite hear as she was tugging at his arm to sit. She half hoped that Ivo was berating Taro, but Ivo seemed anything but angry. When everyone was almost at their place, Taro finally conceded and collapsed into his chair like a limp doll. Finally, Elettra could pull out her chair to sit. And just as she was doing so, she heard the rush of feet, a few brief apologies, and the chair across from her scraping. When Elettra finally looked up, Locke was already seated across from her and staring right back. A vague, knowing smile stretched across his lips. It wasn’t a look of embarrassment, but one that seemed self-assured.
Elettra stared back in shock. It was the only thing she could do in that moment.
Before she could let another second pass, she dropped her gaze to her napkin, which she dropped into her lap. Elettra was utterly mortified—mostly at herself. Why had she let this person become larger than life in her imagination that she could only stare back him dumbly?
Then she remembered Stryker’s class—how he watched her. Possibly laughed at her. How he stared at her on the train. How he seemed to know exactly where she was in the lecture hall.
No, she smoothed her hands over her napkin, she’s just imagining things. She had to stop this.
And when Elettra looked back up, Locke still had the same self-assured smirk, but his gaze suddenly switched and his eyebrow cocked as though he had heard something at the other end of the table that was interesting. Elettra had nowhere to look without making it obvious where she was looking. Her eyes were turned toward the grey soup that was placed in front of everyone. She concentrated on it for as long as she could, but when she knew she was beginning to look ridiculous just staring down at her spoon and soup, she slowly lifted her eyes: Locke would be the first person she saw, and the table was narrow enough where she could easily reach out and touch him. And when she was ready to look at him he was leaning forward a little, saying her name—Elettra.
But the blood was rushing through her head. Locke nodded a little ways down the table, and Elettra had not seen what was clear—Sparrow was waving at her, saying her name loudly.
Elettra felt her cheeks burn hotly.
“Sorry,” she stammered and put her soup down.
“You seem so far away!” Sparrow’s eyes were bright with laughter and amazement.
Elettra shook her head with a smile. Her fringe shook with her, “sorry! I was thinking of something else…”
“Or someone else!” Sparrow teased, and the other guests that were surrounding her brightened with the same bubbly intrigue.
Elettra dared not look at Locke, but she felt he was burning a hole into the side of her head.
“No one else,” Elettra admitted weakly.
Sparrow burst out laughing, “You’re a terrible liar!”
The guests in between watched the volley between them.
“What gives you that idea?” Elettra’s voice trembled. She was not doing well at all. Elettra was cursing herself for coming at all.
Taro was drunkenly singing to himself, and Elettra had no idea if Ivo knew that she was in distress.
“Go on! Tell us!” Sparrow reached her hand across but couldn’t quite touch Elettra.
“She’s blushing!” Elettra heard one of them laugh: it was Cecily Veremond. She was one person over from Locke. Cecily placed her long arms on the table as she ran her fingers through her long pearls and seemed to be staring at Elettra from under her long doe-eyelashes, “She’s absolutely smitten!”
Elettra opened her mouth to protest.
She wasn’t smitten! She was uncomfortable.
“We’re forgetting, Spare” Locke sat back in his chair. His voice cut through the buzz like it did in the lecture hall, and Elettra now was forced to look at him, “that Tariels don’t have hearts.”
Elettra felt her hands grow cold. But it was better than an interrogation.
His chin was tilted toward his chest, but he looked up her.
“Is that the grand conclusion you came to when you were freezing in Grey Peaks? Because then Haightford just wasted a scholarship on an answer they could ask any simpleton in Cerilleum.”
The words tumbled out of Elettra before she had time to consider them. And to recover she bent toward her soup spoon pretending to eat while the table erupted in whispers.
It would be a coward that wouldn’t look up from their soup spoon. She had to look up.
And when she did, Locke looked surprised, but he quickly concealed it with an amused smile. He returned to self-assured.
“And the Grey Nightingale. Incidentally, I hope you enjoyed my lecture.”
Elettra’s jaw twitched.
“I only learned that you did nothing in the way of preserving them.” She cocked her eyebrow.
Locke slowly began to lean forward; she had to elaborate.
“You only captured them, traumatized them no doubt, instead of actually preserving them.” Elettra knew she no longer had the upper hand taking the conversation in this direction: she looked as though she were about to have a tantrum.
“Oh no,” Locke returned in an almost whisper, but each word dripped with gravity, “I didn’t capture anything—they came to me willingly.”
Elettra’s nostrils flared.
“Which begs the question,” he sat back, letting his finger run along the stem of his wine glass, his head tilted slightly to the side as he stared at her, “what kind of creature would wish to be seen at the risk of death?”
His eyes trailed down to her bodice then up to her face again.
He was asking her.
It took a moment for Elettra to realize that the whole table was deathly silent as everyone waited for her response.
But Cecily Veremond had other designs.
“Well, you two are done fighting,” her long, slender arm reached for Locke’s shoulder and squeezed it, which only inflamed Elettra, “I want to know…”
But Elettra didn’t hear her. Suddenly, it seemed as though Elettra was no longer the focal point; everyone erupted into a buzz of conversation again, and Elettra was left staring down at her napkin.
Sparrow’s hand flailed within her periphery.
“Don’t let him get to you!” Sparrow mouthed.
Elettra shot a glance at Locke, who was completely absorbed in whatever Cecily was saying to him. She could see that his whole face had softened, and he was smiling at her in way that was charming and inviting.
Suddenly, Elettra felt Taro’s shoulder press into her, and when she turned to look beside her, Ivo was already grasping his shoulders to straighten him: Taro had fallen asleep while humming a little tune.
“I’m going to get him some water,” Ivo hesitantly released Taro letting his hands hover to see if Taro would stay as he rose. And once Ivo had disappeared, asked one of the Starlings sitting next to her where the bathroom was. They said something and pointed to the corner in the hall. Elettra rose without lifting her head, and quickly threw her napkin on the table. A corner of it had fallen into her half-eaten soup, and Elettra could detect movement across from where she was seated: it was attention. Her rising from her seat was noticed. But Elettra forced herself not to look. She quickly crossed into the hall to where the coats were hung. She grabbed hers, her heart thrumming in her chest. What was worse than disappearing suddenly from a dinner party was being caught and having to explain why you’re leaving.
I’m leaving because it would be too humiliating to stay.
I’m leaving because I have never felt more defeated in all my life.
I’m leaving because I finally hate Locke Amory.
Elettra didn’t even put on her coat: she heard footsteps and the scrape of chairs in the other room. She twisted the handle to the door and bolted out of the Starling House.
It had started to snow. It caught on her lace sleeves and neck, and it fell like a thick veil over her hair. When Elettra looked back, she could still see well within the house where she didn’t close the door: and there in the middle of the entryway stood Locke mid-step. Was he surprised? Satisfied that she was leaving? Elettra flung her head back toward her dark path to Haightford.
