She took a deep breath and lowered her hands. As much as she might wish to return to the comforting familiarity of her clouded vision, she had to learn to live in this new world.
She opened her eyes and searched her face in the mirror. Her reflection still struck her as strange. It was the face she had always pictured in her mind’s eye, but then again not. When her vision had been clouded, she thought she had a good notion of herself, between what she could read with her fingers and how others described her. But her returned vision added details she hadn’t imagined.
She ran fingers through her brown hair, so dark it could be misconstrued as black, but within its shadows were golden strands, as if a sun lay hidden somewhere within. Her complexion was a richer color of polished amber, her lips rosier, and her eyes bluer, speckled with flecks of silver.
In many ways it was a stranger in that mirror, but maybe therein lay another measure of hope. Maybe she could set aside the girl she was, the meek and beclouded girl. And become the woman in the reflection, the one stranded in gold and flecked in silver.
“I can do this,” she tried again.
She almost believed it.
Almost.
She firmed her resolve to redouble her efforts on her lessons. If nothing else, the hard work had pushed the fear nestled inside her deeper and deeper. Collapsing into bed each night, exhausted and mind-numbed from studying, she slept soundly. No more screams or visions of arcane rituals under a swelling moon plagued her slumbers. She refused to even utter the word moonfall. She certainly hadn’t shared any of this with the prioress, especially as that strange bat had never returned to haunt her rafters. How could she try to explain her inflamed memories, of the sweet taste of milk on her tongue, the spicy warmth of pelt and wing, the red eyes glowing across to her from another nipple?
She wanted to dismiss it all as a fevered dream from her poisoning, to put that darkness behind her. Instead, she concentrated all of her efforts and energies on the immediate task ahead of her.
She ran her hands down the robe one last time. The contrast of black and white represented the choice facing her over the next year. Once she completed her ninthyear, she must pick a path forward. To take the black of alchymy, or the white of religious studies. Once she had chosen, she hoped one day to achieve the status of Highcryst in one order or the other.
Or maybe both.
She pictured the two halves of her robes merging to the gray holiness of a Shrive—then shook her head at such foolishness.
Let me just complete my ninthyear.
Determined and knowing Jace was waiting for her in the next room with a stack of books, she wiggled the robe over her head. Standing in a simple shift, she neatly folded the garment and gently returned it to its lacquered scentwood box. She closed and clasped it, securing all her hopes inside.
She placed her palm atop it.
I can do this.
* * *
NYX ROLLED THE nub of sharpened charcoal between her thumb and forefinger, both of which were grimed black as she struggled through the last of the morning. She squinted at the triangular shape that Jace had jotted down, along with the numbers written on two of its sides. She had been instructed to divine the length of the third and the space held within all.
“Remember the dictum of squaring the triangle,” Jace offered.
She huffed out her frustration. “I know, but what damnable use is any of this?”
He reached over and forced her hand down and drew her attention toward him. His green eyes sparked with sympathy and amusement. “Knowledge can often be its own reward, but more often it reveals the inner truths of the outer world. It can raise a lamp and lift the shadows around us to show us the beauty within.”
She had to look away from his intensity, sensing a more personal meaning behind his words. She noted the warmth of the hand still clasping hers, the way his touch lingered. She withdrew her fingers and returned to the problem drawn on paper, a matter more easily resolved than what had grown between them.
Jace straightened. “As to squaring the triangle, it is the magick behind much of everything around us. Used by builders to reckon the slope of a roof and the position of walls. Sailorfolk tap its power to chart their course across the seas. Mappers do the same to draw coastlines and borders.”
Inspired by his explanation, Nyx set about solving the problem with renewed vigor. She scratched her sums with her nub of charcoal and worried her way through to the end. Once done, she turned to Jace, who smiled proudly but with a slight sadness in his eyes.
“Very good,” he said. “In no time, you’ll be leaving me far behind.”
It was her turn to reach to him. “Never,” she promised. “I can’t survive my ninthyear without you at my side.”
“I failed my fifthyear,” he reminded her, the smile dimming. “I think the girl who survived the poison of a M?r bat can face anything.”
She wanted to believe him, but this reminder of the attack, of the nightmares that followed, further unsettled her. Still, she sought to reassure her friend. “Jace, you’re far more than your stumble in your fifthyear. Prioress Ghyle recognized your potential by keeping you here at the Cloistery, working at the scriptorium, aiding me these past years. I wager you know more than most of those who will be crawling alongside me to the top of the school.”
His grin returned. “You are kind to say that. But of late, I’ve struggled to keep abreast of you. I know it. But I will admit that I have learned much on my own, not only by studying beside you, but also by copying faded ancient texts in the scriptorium, preserving them before their ink vanished. Some volumes were shockingly blasphemous. Others so raw in subject that it would make the vilest whoremonger blush. It’s certainly been a tutelage very different than any path up the tiers.”
“And no less important.” She patted his knee. “And that is how you will get me through my ninthyear.”
“But what after that?” Jace asked, his voice going softer. “Where will you go then?”
She heard the unspoken query: What’s to become of us?
“I don’t know,” she answered, addressing all of those questions. “I hadn’t dared look past what’s in front of my nose. I would hate to leave my dah and brothers, so perhaps the prioress would allow me to continue my advanced studies here at the Cloistery.”
Jace drew taller in his seat, hope brimming in his eyes. “I would like—”
A blast of horns cut him off. They both turned to the window of her borrowed room. A steamy drizzle hung in the air, all that was left of a storm that had been blowing through the swamps for several days. As they stared, another bright trumpeting echoed across the breadth of the school.
“What is it?” Nyx asked.
Jace gained his legs with a heave. “Let’s take a break and find out.”
She happily stood. Jace crossed and grabbed her cane, but she waved it aside. She would need to learn to walk on her own. She had to adjust to the strange dimensions and sights of her new sighted world. Plus, she had Jace if she became too overwhelmed.
They abandoned her little cluster of rooms and headed through the physik’s wards. They drew more of the curious in their wake. Once they reached the open air, they crossed toward the tier’s main stairs. Further bursts of horns urged them onward, now clearly rising up from below.