Whirl (Ondine Quartet Book 1) (8 page)

"Hey, when you came to get me —" I paused.
"Did you think I was this
sondaleur
person?"

The rest of the car was silent, but I felt
Aubrey and Chloe listening to our conversation.

Tristan hesitated. "I believed you were. But
I wasn't sure until we met." He glanced at me. "Now I know you
are."

I remembered how his eyes had swept over me
in the alley.

"Did my mom believe it?" I said flatly. "When
she contacted you to arrange for me to come here, did she believe I
was the
sondaleur
?"

A pause.

"Yes, she did." His voice was quiet, almost
gentle.

A sickening feeling settled in the pit of my
stomach and I didn't say anything for the rest of the ride.

The Governing House was a ten minute drive
from campus. The car climbed up a winding driveway that led to a
large courtyard surrounded by several official-looking buildings.
The SUV came to a stop in front of a set of polished marble steps,
parking behind a sleek, silver Harley-Davidson. I wondered who the
bike belonged to.

The Governing House was three stories high
with two large wings that extended outward on both sides. Large
towers on the eastern and western ends topped each side wing, and
tall windows graced its exterior. Like the Academy's architecture,
it was ornate and elaborate, constructed in a French Baroque style
that conveyed a stately grandeur.

Tristan stopped me as I opened my door.

"Are you okay?" His voice was low and
concerned.

"Sure, gardinel," I answered lightly as I got
out. Tristan frowned, but didn't reply.

I caught up with Aubrey and Chloe and we
followed the school gardinels up the marble steps to the entrance.
Two Royal Gardinels stood at attention on either side of the
imposing ebony doors and our escorts stayed outside, chatting with
them.

The foyer was massive with marble floors and
a large glittering chandelier hanging overhead. Three hallways
branched off it. One on either side, connecting to the west and
east wings, and one directly in front of us that led to the back of
the building.

A tall demillir, dressed in an impeccable
pin-striped suit, crossed the foyer as we entered. In his late
fifties, with distinguished silver hair and twinkling eyes, he had
an aura of charismatic leadership that made him look like a
corporate CEO.

"Evening, Augustin," Tristan said.

"Nice to see you again, Prince Belicoux." He
strode over with a warm smile and shook Tristan's hand.

"Are you joining us?"

He shook his head. "No. I need to get some
work done in the library tonight." Light blue eyes flickered over
us, his curious gaze lingering just a bit longer on me.

"Chloe Moreaux, Aubrey Rossay, Kendra
Irisavie, this is Augustin Genevieve, the Governor's Chief
Counsel."

"Pleasure, ladies." A broad, charming smile
flashed across his face, displaying a set of perfect teeth. "It's a
shame I'll be missing your lovely company tonight. Some other time,
perhaps."

After exchanging a few more words with
Tristan, he excused himself and headed down the east corridor. I
wondered how someone as likable as him could work so closely with
my cold grandmother. He must have the patience of a saint.

We continued down the central hallway. Fine
paintings and sculptures lined the walls, and there was an innate
tastefulness to the furnishings that appealed to my ondine blood.
Imposing as the building was, its cool elegance soothed me in the
same way water did.

Haverleau's Governing House was the center of
ondine political power in the world. My skin tingled slightly
feeling the brush of Virtue magic in the air. Even the walls seemed
imbued with it.

I recognized it as the residue of old magic,
used when the building was first constructed hundreds of years ago.
It had a strangely empowering and calming effect. The black
darkness in me gradually receded, and I felt more in control of my
emotions.

Tristan took us into an intimate dining room.
A large, dark mahogany table dominated the center. Rhian sat in a
tall and elaborate high-backed chair at one end. She had the same
imperious look as yesterday. On her right, Gabriel, still dressed
in workout gear, sat beside Marcella. He looked even bigger than
usual next to my slender aunt.

"Ah, here they are," a warm voice said.

"Marquis and Marquisa," Aubrey smiled, giving
them a small wave.

"Hi, Dad." Chloe grinned. "Kendra, these are
my parents, Oliver and Miriam Moreaux."

With a receding hairline and the beginnings
of a middle-aged paunch around his waist, Oliver had a kind,
slightly tired face. His brown eyes gleamed with good humor.

"It's a pleasure to meet you at last,
Kendra," he said.

Miriam had the same coloring as her daughter.
Silky platinum hair and startling eyes, though the color was a
slightly lighter shade of blue. The mild spring weather was
comfortably warm, but she wore an elegant, long-sleeved cashmere
turtleneck and her pale skin looked clammy and cold.

"Welcome home, Kendra." She extended her hand
to me and I shook it gently. She looked so fragile I was afraid I'd
hurt her. Judging by the way Chloe and Oliver fussed over her as we
sat down, her health hadn't improved.

Henry and Lydia Rossay were as obnoxious as
Aubrey had described. Overbearing and bossy, Lydia's shrill, nasal
voice grated on my nerves. Henry reminded me of a mole. Overweight,
bald, and much shorter than his wife, he seemed to have a severe
sweating problem. Every few minutes, he swiped his greasy skin with
a grey handkerchief while his sniveling voice agreed with whatever
Lydia said. Aubrey visibly winced at several of their comments.

I sat at the opposite end of the table,
facing Rhian. Remembering what Chloe had said, I did my best to
focus on my food. Smiling was too difficult for me to pull off, but
I did manage to keep my mouth shut. Since I really wanted to punch
Rhian for what I'd discovered about my mother, I considered my
control to be quite a victory.

Most of the conversation revolved around
politics and after a few minutes, I completely tuned out.

Tristan was unfailingly polite to everyone,
and I was a little surprised to see the ease with which he spoke to
Rhian, Marcella, and Gabriel. Rhian ate with such stillness of
movement, she looked like a freaky statue that occasionally moved.
She never smiled and barely participated in the conversation,
making only a few remarks to Tristan or Oliver.

"Well, we had a great time driving through
Vegas," Marcella said, continuing some story I hadn't been paying
attention to. "Although we couldn't stay long because of the whole
desert thing."

She rolled her eyes as though she couldn't
believe Vegas had the nerve to be situated in a desert rather than
along a coastline. "Gabe had a ball trying out the new bike."

So that's who the Harley belonged to.

"On the way back, we spent time with my
family in Portland," Gabriel added, taking another bite of grilled
steak. That got my attention.

"You were human?"

Ondines could only mate with those of human,
or partially human blood. Although most ondines chose to mate with
a born demillir, some chose a completely human man. During the
binding process, a magical bond formed between the pair,
transforming the human male to a demillir.

"One hundred percent born and raised."

"Gabe was in Special Forces," Marcella told
me. "We met while I was vacationing in Okinawa, Japan. He was
attending a special meeting at the military base."

She gave him a look of such tenderness. I
glanced away at its intimacy. Those two were crazy about each
other.

"Once Gabe became a demillir, his military
training was an asset to the chevaliers," Tristan said. "He soon
became Head Chevalier."

A plan began to take shape in my mind. It
wasn't as crazy as most of my other ideas. Whether or not it would
succeed was another matter entirely.

Across the table, Marcella gave me an
encouraging smile. "How was your first day, Kendra? Have you been
able to adjust?"

"It was fine," I answered stiffly. "I've
changed schools a lot so I'm used to being the new girl."

Lydia Rossay's sneer was unmistakable. "I'm
sure an elemental school is vastly different from human ones." I
gripped my fork tighter to keep from throwing it at her face. "The
adjustment must be quite difficult for you. From what I've heard,
you don't even understand some of our basic moral codes."

Aubrey's eyes flashed. "Aunt Lydia—"

"Don't interrupt me, dear," she continued.
"I'm sorry your poor mother didn't have a chance to educate you so
that you could be better prepared for Haverleau life. But making
offensive statements in public does not make you look good."

Her implication was clear. She'd heard about
Broussard's class. And given the complete lack of reaction around
the table, she wasn't the only one. These people must have spies
everywhere.

I clenched my teeth. "I was just expressing
my opinion."

"That may be." Rhian's voice cut through the
air like sharp steel. "But sometimes it is wiser to hold off on
expressing an opinion when you don't have all the facts yet."

I gave a harsh laugh. "I didn't realize
stating an opinion was against the law in Haverleau, Governor. But
I forgot. You locked my mother up in a psych ward because she
expressed her own opinion, didn't you?"

Rhian paled, her skin blanching to the color
of parchment. Shocked silence descended upon the room. Everybody
looked stunned that I had dared to mention my mother's past. Well,
why not? If people gossiped and talked about it behind my back, I
might as well bring it out into the open.

Tristan stared at me and I wondered what he
saw. A pathetic seventeen-year-old who knew less about her own life
and past than total strangers? An ondine who might be as mentally
unstable as her mother? Gabriel's eyes flickered and I detected the
tiniest spark of sympathy on his face before he looked away.

"That wasn't what —" Marcella's voice was
strained.

"No." Rhian cut her off, fastening that
familiar steely gaze on to me. "I will not dignify that with an
answer. Your undisciplined behavior is —" she paused, "unfortunate.
But you have just arrived back to Haverleau,
sondaleur
."

Both the Rossays and Moreauxs startled at
Rhian's use of the term.

"I suggest you start understanding the
responsibility you have toward your fellow ondines and the Irisavie
name."

The old woman was determined to shove
responsibility down my throat each time we met, and calling me
sondaleur
was just another way of doing that. The word was a
mark, a cage in which to hold and make me do things that I didn't
want to do.

All the choices, all the freedom I had so
carefully controlled in my life were being taken away.
Responsibility? I wasn't responsible for anyone but myself.

Seething, I was about to tell my dear
grandmother to fuck off when I caught Tristan's gaze. His
expression was hard to read. Maybe he was trying to tell me he
understood what I was feeling. Or he might have been telling me now
was not the time to keep fighting. I didn't know, but at long last,
I dropped my eyes and stared at my plate.

It was difficult, but I exhaled and glanced
back up at Rhian. Wordlessly, I gave her a short nod.

The tension visibly dropped and the dinner
continued, though the conversation was more awkward than before. I
kept my eyes on my plate, refusing to speak or look at anyone. The
Moreauxs made an effort to keep the subject matter light, and they
soon had others at the table laughing at some of their stories.

After dessert, Gabriel excused himself,
saying he had some work he needed to finish at the Training Center.
Once he left, I clumsily stood and muttered an excuse about needing
to use the restroom. Hurrying to the foyer, I caught up with him
just as he exited the building.

"Hey…um…Gabe! Wait up!"

Gabriel turned around and frowned.

"Is everything all right?"

I thought carefully about how to phrase this.
"Yeah. I just…I need your help."

He raised his brow. "What is it?"

"I want to enter the Chevalier training
program," I blurted out. Clearly at a loss for words, Gabriel
stared at me and his expression became troubled.

"Ondines will never be trained because it
goes against this stupid idea of what we're supposed to be," I
continued quickly before he could argue. "But if I'm a chevalier
recruit, I can train and fight. I'll prove myself, pass the exams,
and get inducted by the same standards as all the other
recruits."

Instead of insisting that ondines develop
their own fighter corps, I thought the best way to circumvent the
issue was to get into the chevalier program. If I passed and
displayed the same level of skills as the others in the program,
then they couldn't deny me the right to be a recruit.

I may not be able to fight as an ondine, but
I certainly could as a chevalier.

Gabriel didn't reply for a long moment. His
jaw clenched and I noticed a throbbing vein above his left eye. It
was oddly fascinating.

Finally, he sighed. "Kendra, you're asking me
to break the law. Haverleau law specifically states that only
demillirs can train and join the chevaliers."

My heart sank at this information. I opened
my mouth, but he cut off my protest.

"You're an ondine. You can't change who you
are."

"The law is wrong," I shot back. "You grew up
in the human world. The law that an ondine can't become a chevalier
is stupid, old-fashioned, and racist." Gabriel's face hardened.
"You were in the military. What if there had been a law that
prevented someone from joining based on their race or their gender?
It isn't fair."