Billow (21 page)

"Any ideas?"

"Not yet."

"You should give a selkie name."

"Oh, please. You selkies always think your language is the best."

"I thought you would've learned it by now."

Was he teasing me?

"Why would you think that?" I played along.

The smile lit up his face. "Because I don't underestimate you."

I couldn't help feeling a tiny bit pleased over that statement.

"I barely understand French." I turned to him. His eyes were warm, relaxed. "It'll take a lot of time to get your freaky language."

The corner of his mouth twitched. "It's not freaky, it's really old. Have you studied the ancient regions in history?"

Why did everyone keep harping on the one class I was failing?

"Since our language is an archaic form of French, there's not a wide vocabulary. Words have multiple meanings depending upon the context. For example, selkie family names come from phrases."

"Like?"

He considered. "Like Ewan. His family name, Vellucar comes from the word
Veillcara
." The way he pronounced the word sounded like wind whispering through trees. "It means watchful friend."

Given my gardinel's tendency to act like a worrywart, he may've taken its meaning a bit too seriously.

"Let me guess," I said. "Garreth's family name means something like hard as a rock."

He laughed and the sound did funny things inside my chest. "Not bad. Percailou comes from the word
Pierrcaislou
, which means stone castle."

Well, that one was pretty obvious.

"So what does your name mean?"

Tristan's name had to mean something amazing. Maybe something to do with royal power. Or a warrior's courage.

His smile faded and a shadow crossed his face.

"My family name comes from an ancient phrase of our people.
Belcough
." He rolled the word and it sounded like the distant roar of the ocean. "Belicoux means beautiful war."

He ran a hand through his hair. "It's a horrible phrase. An oxymoron."

His voice took on the same hard tone he used when he spoke with his father.

"My people say it comes from the start of the war, when our race committed to becoming the protector of elementals. It was a rallying cry of great honor."

But it hadn't been.

Because the term hadn't included the possibility of a war that would stretch for hundreds of years with devastating consequences.

It hadn't included horror or pain. It hadn't included the cost of killing your own brother.

I knew what it was like to be branded with a name you didn't want.

I didn't want him to feel that way about his own.

"Your language depends on context, right?" I said slowly. "So maybe you're looking at it wrong. Maybe the phrase doesn't mean beautiful war."

My mind traced the contours of his features. Heard the music he gave me, the words he'd said.

I shoved my hands deep into my pockets to keep from touching him.

"Maybe it means beauty in war." I cleared my throat and met his gaze. "Maybe it means hope."

His mouth parted and for a long moment, Tristan looked shocked.

And then his face softened, eyes rich with something so wondrous I was almost afraid to breathe.

"What about you?" His voice was husky. "What does your name mean?"

Irisavie meant iris of life.
Sondaleur
meant I would end the Shadow.

But that wasn't what he was asking.

Something inside peeled away, the tiniest part of the wall giving way to the power only he had.

"I'm still figuring that out."

The back door opened, breaking the fragility of the moment.

Garreth stuck his head out. "Your Highness? The king is leaving."

Tristan nodded. "I'll be right there."

Garreth left and I suddenly felt a ridiculous urge to grab Tristan. To stop him from going back in there, to all those people who needed and demanded things from both of us.

"Are you coming in?"

I shook my head, embarrassed at what I felt. "Need a few more minutes of fresh air and then I'll head back to the Academy."

"It's cold out. Are you sure?"

I waved my hand. "Yeah."

"I'll have Ewan take you." He headed for the door.

"Tristan."

He froze and I realized it was the first time I'd called him that since his return.

He turned with a questioning look.

There were so many things I wanted to say. That I didn't want to be there with Julian. That I wished he'd told me about his birthday. That his father was wrong and if anyone could lead his people to a different life, it'd be him.

But I didn't say any of it.

"Happy birthday."

The same words he'd spoken the night we first met in California. A meeting that set me on my predetermined course as
sondaleur
.

His face remained unreadable in the shadows of the night. Finally, he gave a short nod and returned to the restaurant.

I watched his back as he walked away and wondered if the sight of it would ever get easier.

SEVENTEEN

The rest of the week was a cycle of repeating disappointments.

Nights brought the unbreakable black dream and the inevitable mornings of frustration and physical pain.

Afternoons meant constraining my Virtue and getting my ass kicked by the gardinels. It also meant enduring pitying looks that said an ondine shouldn't be an elite in the first place.

Evenings were spent with Tristan, Jeeves, and Rhian going over the investigation. Discussions that were useless because we had nothing to go on.

And each day continued to pass with no contact from Gilroy. Even Aubrey and Ian's combined skills couldn't find a way to track him down.

Meanwhile, another kidnapping took place. A human female vanished from the southwest section of Lyondale.

With each hour, my desperate need to do something grew.

I didn't want to sit in Haverleau. I wanted to go to Lyondale and search out every Aquidae. Rip them apart until I found Callan and his group.

And then I'd do the same to them.

Sometimes, I caught Tristan or Aubrey watching me with strange expressions. I focused harder on controlling my face to show nothing.

But it was difficult to manage the teeter-tottering balance between choking panic and devouring rage.

I exited the dorm on Saturday morning to grey skies and dreary weather. Nexa sent a note asking me to meet her at the Academy parking lot.

The Quad was empty, the dismal weather keeping most students indoors.

I didn't see Julian after our disastrous date because he was away on another chevalier mission. I wasn't sure what would happen when he returned, especially since I wasn't ready to talk to him.

For an Empath, you sure have a lousy read on people
.

The words left an unpleasant echo that didn't go away. And a nagging suspicion he might be right.

Aubrey and I made an effort to include Chloe in everything. But each time we asked her to join us, she rebuffed our efforts.

Things had somehow shifted and it added to my sense of uncertainty. I thought apologizing would make things right, but it didn't.

Instead, I got the feeling Chloe needed something else from me.

I just didn't know what that was.

No matter how much I thought about it, I kept coming back to her relationship with Cam. Their breakup didn't make any sense.

I tried talking to Cam again, but his fist nearly took out my jaw. If Ryder were here, he and I could've come up with something…

My stomach twisted. But he wasn't here. Not anymore.

Because they took him and they need to pay
.

The rage whispered, the hunger like a dark, gaping hole inside me.

Soon. The time would come soon.

Nexa waited with a gardinel next to a school SUV. Both the car and the selkie appeared gigantic next to her tiny form. Bright, periwinkle eyes glittered like jewels in the ashen morning light.

I quickly rearranged my features.

"Took you long enough."

What was she talking about? "I'm here exactly on time."

"There is no such thing," she snapped. "Time is not exact. It's immeasurable."

Great. Our lesson hadn't started yet and she was already being snippy and weird.

I suppressed a sigh and got in the car. "Where are we going?"

She sat next to me in a thick cloud of alcohol, salt, and stale cigarette smoke. "You have an appointment."

I waited for more details.

The gardinel started the car and slowly exited the lot.

"Who do I have an appointment with?"

She began humming the theme song to
Restless Passions
.

I wanted to bang my head against the window.

After a few minutes, the imposing, familiar sight of the governing complex came into view. "We're meeting my grandmother?"

Her brow crinkled in confusion. "Why would you think that?"

I gave up. Better to just shut up and wait.

The car stopped in front of the three-story building that housed the Council Chamber. Nexa hurried inside and I had to hustle to keep up. The old woman was pretty spry for her age.

I followed her through one of the doors leading directly to the ground level.

Built like an amphitheater, the Chamber's multiple levels of seating looked down upon the central floor. Two long white marble tables were arranged to form the letter T. Every step echoed in the cavernous space.

Nexa's hands wrapped around a small lever jutting out of the west wall. It wasn't that far up, but she stood on the tips of her toes to grab it.

I hurried over to help and she yanked the lever down with a strength that belied her age.

I staggered back with a surprised yelp.

A small section of the stone floor opened, revealing a dark, square pool of water.

"The tunnels underneath the complex lead out to the ocean." It didn't seem to bother her I'd almost fallen in. "It's a Summoning Pool, dear. Nothing to be frightened of."

I glared. "A little warning next time."

She went on like she didn't hear me. "Jourdain requested a meeting with you."

I froze.

"Jourdain? As in…you mean that weird dessondine?"

Nexa eyed me. "Of course, dear. The Mother of our race wishes to speak to the
sondaleur
."

But she's creepy
.

The last time I'd seen the dessondine High Priestess was one I'd hoped would be the last.

My eyes involuntarily shot to the tall, glass tank of water next to Rhian's chair. Remembering the strange creature that floated in there made me nervous.

I looked down at the pool of water and wondered if Jourdain's disturbing eyes would show up. I hastily took a few steps back.

"What are you waiting for? Get in."

I must've misheard her. "Excuse me?"

She pointed to the water. "She's not visiting you. You're visiting her."

Dessondines were immortal creatures who lived deep underwater. I was an ondine, a mortal who lived on land.

Meaning I needed certain basic things. Like air.

"Go on, dear."

I stared at the pool of water then back at her. "Drowning wasn't on my list of things to do today."

"You're an ondine."

I raised my brow and waited.

She sighed. "You're a water elemental. A being of magic. You won't drown."

That was impossible. All elementals were strong swimmers. We were born knowing how to move through water.

But we still had to breathe.

She gestured. "Touch it. Announce yourself."

Frowning, I knelt by the edge of the Summoning Pool. Fingertips skimmed over the water's surface, its cool silkiness caressing my skin.

"Announce yourself," she repeated. "Tell the water who you are."

Was this really going to work?

I dropped my hand into the water. Closing my eyes, I concentrated and introduced myself.

I'm Kendra Irisavie.

I waited.

"Saying your name doesn't do anything," Nexa said dryly. "This is not a social event."

Oh.

"You have to connect with it. Show the water you belong to it. Come from it."

The whole thing seemed ridiculous.

One look at her expression stopped my retort. It was the longest I'd ever seen her go without a cigarette. She looked ready to snap my head off.

Taking another deep breath, I closed my eyes again. This time, I let instinct guide me.

I released the filters on my Virtue. With a gentle nudge, I sent the magic through my hand and into the water.

Some ingrained knowledge told me not to push. No magic could ever encompass the eternal timelessness of water. If I tried to dig into its heart, its essence, I had no doubt it'd kill me.

Delicate filaments of Virtue stretched out, lightly threading through the millions of drops.

Empath's thin strands cajoled and grazed, stroking the water with a calm, rhythmic persuasion. Asking it to trust me.

Water recognized my magic as one of its own.

It understood. And it returned.

Thread by thread, water bound to me though my Virtue and the tightly knit grid grew in size and complexity.

When it locked into place, I opened my eyes.

The pool now lit up with a pale white light. I examined my hands, my body. Everything looked exactly the same on the outside.

But I sensed the intricate lattice connecting me to the water. Like an inner diving suit, it lay just under my skin and clung everywhere.

The finespun web felt tenuous enough to snap at the slightest amount of pressure.

Nexa gave a satisfied nod. "Jourdain's waiting. Hurry up and get in."

"My clothes —"

"Will be fine. Accept the water." Her eyes turned sharp. "Trust it."

I reluctantly removed coat and shoes as doubt continued to ricochet.

How could I count on something so fragile? What if that binding suit broke while I was deep underwater?