Ice Crown, Kay L. Moody [ap literature book list .txt] 📗

classroom had dried them all up. No matter how she stared at the graveyard, they stayed back, stealing the emotional release that tears usually provided.

“What did they say after I left?” Talise asked. She hoped Wendy wouldn’t guess that they really just meant Aaden.

“Nothing,” Wendy said in her usual timid voice. “No one said a single thing, and Mrs. Dew looked at them all really sternly in case they were thinking about it.”

Talise tried to smile. She was grateful Wendy had come for her. She was even grateful Mrs. Dew had given stern glares.

“What does your recommendation say?” Talise asked.

Wendy’s eyes lit up with a grin. “I’ve been recommended for military shape training. General Gale wants to work with me himself.” Her smile looked too big for her face and somehow, it made her look even sweeter than ever.

“You deserve it,” Talise said. Her words had never been more sincere, but that didn’t stop her from choking up.

“Oh Talise,” Wendy said, throwing her arms around her. “You’re still going to win; I know you will.”

Talise opened her mouth to speak. Sniffed. Felt tears welling in her eyes. And closed her mouth again.

Wendy hugged tighter, seeming to sense her distress. “You were just distracted because of Marmie’s funeral, and it made you mess up in the middle of your demonstration. You’ll be more focused on competition day. You’re going to win. Then, when you visit Marmie’s grave, you’ll be a Master Shaper, and you can leave four marks on her grave. One for each element.”

The tears subsided for a moment as Wendy’s words sunk in. Talise had forgotten Master Shapers were allowed to leave four marks. That lifted her spirits slightly.

“Do you really think I have a chance?”

Wendy pulled away and nodded emphatically. “You only messed up because you were thinking about Marmie, right?”

“Yes.”

“See? Then you still have a chance for sure. We all saw when you messed up. The rest of your demonstration was perfect except that one part. Even General Gale said the judges were divided on who should win. On competition day, the emperor is the only one who matters. As long as he likes your demonstration better, it doesn’t matter what happened today.”

Talise wrapped a hand around her elbow and pulled it close to her body. What if the emperor liked fire cherry blossoms more than fire ribbons? Talise was almost certain he would. Ridgerock Palace was known for its cherry blossoms and the emperor loved them. How could he appreciate dancing ribbons more than his favorite trees? The only thing he liked better than those blossoms was his crown.

“Your skin seems warmer than usual. Is that still from the demonstration?”

“Um,” Talise pulled her elbow even closer to her body. “Yes,” she lied. The fever inside her had been growing worse, but she chose to ignore it. If she didn’t get some rest soon, it would become an even bigger problem. One she couldn’t deal with at the moment.

“Come on. Let’s get you to the kitchen so we can get some ice to cool your body.”

Talise allowed Wendy to tug her along. As they walked, Talise glanced back at Empress Isla’s grave. Even with over a thousand marks, it still looked sad. So many strangers had left marks that the ones from her real family members were impossible to spot. The memory of them seemed to be buried along with the empress herself.

The walk to the kitchen building seemed longer than usual. At first, Wendy’s presence had been welcome, but now Talise wanted to be alone. Her mind was wrestling with too many things at once.

Could her fire ribbons beat Aaden’s cherry trees? Did she even care when Marmie’s death was so fresh? How could she not care when Marmie had died to get her this far? How should the mark look that she would leave on Marmie’s gravestone?

Wendy’s chatter kept interrupting her thoughts and each time it felt more intrusive. When they reached the kitchen building, she told Wendy to go on and get the ice while she stayed outside. She needed a moment.

What she really needed was for Marmie to be alive and all this to be a horrible nightmare, but Talise didn’t think that would happen.

She pinched herself just to be sure. The pain brought a scowl to her face that only deepened when Aaden appeared in front of her.

He blinked as his chest rose and fell against his fire orange tunic. It took her a moment to realize why that seemed so strange. Aaden was out of breath.

He stared at her like he had found what he was looking for. And yet, his shoulders pulled back as if unsure whether being in her presence was what he really wanted.

She eyed him carefully, hoping her gaze would make him squirm like he had after her demonstration. Sadly, her gaze seemed to have no such effect on him. Even worse, he took a step toward her with his shoulders rolling forward.

“Your demonstration was impressive.”

Talise curled her lip into a snarl and jerked herself away from him. “I don’t need your pity.”

Aaden let out a sigh and glanced over his shoulder at the instructional building. It may have been her imagination, but he seemed to focus on the window to Mrs. Dew’s office.

When he turned back, he shrugged, and a look of resignation fell over his features. “Look, I’m glad I won, and you lost. I won’t deny it.”

Talise clenched her teeth as a hot anger boiled from her toes all the way up to her bobbed hair. “Is this your way of trying to make me feel better? Because if it is, you’re failing miserably. And don’t think I’m only upset about losing.”

“I know.”

This time, she took a step toward him. It took everything in her not to slap his smug face. She crossed her arms over her chest to keep them from acting on their own. “My Marmie died and I just want to put a mark on her grave, but the funeral isn’t until a week after the competition. I’m having a hard time concentrating. It has nothing to do with you. Nothing!”

“Marmie?” His voice sounded hollow. When she braved a glance toward him, his face looked hollow too. Gray and ice seemed to spread through his skin as he looked at her. The question sizzled in his eyes, almost begging to be contradicted.

She turned away.

This wouldn’t do at all. She liked being angry with him much better. As she had said earlier, she didn’t want his pity. It only made her feel pathetic.

“There’s something I think you should know,” he said.

Before she could ask what he meant, he turned and waved at her to follow.

She glared at his back, trying to decide if she should. He was probably just trying to mess with her head. He was probably trying to ensure that she failed when they did their demonstrations for the emperor next week.

But a tiny piece of her, way down in her gut, trusted him. She planted her feet and scolded that tiny spark in her gut. What did it know? How could she trust him? Him?

Aaden kept marching on, and it became clear he wouldn’t ask her again. If she wanted to know whatever mysterious information he thought she needed, this was her last chance.

The spark in her gut seemed to make the decision for her. She sprang forward, rushing to catch up with him.

He stopped directly under the window to Mrs. Dew’s office. Pressing a finger to his lips, he pulled the window out so the sound from inside drifted out to them.

“What did you say to her exactly?” Mrs. Dew didn’t sound happy. She wasn’t the sunshine and roses type, but this seemed even more serious than usual.

“She doesn’t know. I swear on the emperor, I didn’t give anything away.”

The owner of the second voice was harder to place. Talise recognized it but couldn’t remember from where.

“I’ll have your guard status revoked if you try to sidestep my question again!” Mrs. Dew shouted.

It wasn’t until the guard replied that Talise finally placed him.

“I told her the funeral would be a week after the competition.”

Mrs. Dew scoffed. “She would never believe that. She isn’t stupid.”

Talise’s gut started thrashing inside her, pinging off all sorts of warning signals to her brain. Why had she believed it?

“I’m very convincing,” the guard said, and she imagined that he wore a charming smile as he said it. “Trust me, she still has no idea.”

“You don’t understand what will happen if she loses. Talise needs to win.” When Mrs. Dew spoke again, it sounded like her jaw was clenched. “If she finds out the funeral is the same day as the competition, she’ll lose for sure.”

The guard said something in reply, but Talise didn’t hear it. She was too busy unraveling from the inside out.

The same day?

She pressed her back against the wall of the building as she sunk to the gravel. Her knees were pulled up to her chest, and her chin rested on top before she dared take a breath.

Why?

Why hadn’t Mrs. Dew told her from the beginning? Why had the guard lied?

Why did Marmie have to die this close to the competition?

A shiver ran up her spine thanks to her fever. Anger jabbed her in the stomach, and then it stabbed her in the chest.

Aaden shifted on the gravel once he closed the window. She wasn’t angry at him. How could she be when none of this was his fault?

But he was nearest, and the anger inside her was slamming against her insides, desperate to spring on anyone or anything.

“You disgust me.” Her voice sounded more like the hiss of a snake than a human. “You only brought me here to make sure I’d lose.”

Aaden looked mortified by the mere suggestion. It didn’t matter if she didn’t believe her own words or not.

“I hate you,” Talise said, and for a moment, she did.

Aaden gave her one last glance before he stalked away. The glance held not even a shred of pity.

Her stomach dropped. Now her anger had nothing to latch itself to. This wouldn’t do at all. This was too much.

People in Kamdaria said that life wouldn’t give you anything you weren’t capable of handling. But they were wrong. She’d seen it in the Storm and now she felt it firsthand.

All she could do was give up because this was too hard.

How could she possibly choose between Marmie’s funeral and the competition?

 

TWELVE

 

 

 

IT DIDN’T TAKE TALISE LONG TO PACK her belongings. Just one extra dress, a handful of toiletries, and a stack of letters from Marmie. Her tote bag had long since been lost, but a pillowcase worked just as well to carry her things.

She was running away.

Forget the competition. It had brought her nothing but anxiety anyway.

Hours had passed since the pre-competition demonstrations. Everyone let her go to bed with no idea that she was falling apart. But she knew she had to act now before she lost her nerve. The curtain of night would aid in her escape.

She pushed open her bedroom door and peeked out. Empty. With the bulging pillowcase over her shoulder, she crept into the hallway as silently as she could.

If she was caught off academy grounds and in the Crown without an ID card or pass of some sort, she would get arrested. Since she was under eighteen, she didn’t have a card yet, but she didn’t have a pass either.

Her only hope was