Lies and Prophecy (21 page)

“You should rest,” Grayson said. Julian opened his eyes again and nodded. “There will be a nurse in to check on you. They have care of your physical condition. At the moment, I'm in charge of your psychic condition. As I said, right now, the only shields on you are there for your protection. My intention is to keep it that way.” She gave him a measuring look. “Don't give me a reason to change my mind.”

Fear spiked through the haze of the drugs, and his fingers dug into the stiff sheets. “I won't.”

The professor nodded. “I didn't think you would. I
have
noticed your interest in my shielding classes, and it isn't hard to guess why.”

Julian held his breath. There was no law saying he couldn't study the subject, and other people, ones with more authority over him, knew what courses he'd taken; Grayson couldn't be the first person to put the pieces together. If she chose to make an issue of it, though….

She didn't. At least not for the moment. “I'll be back later,” Grayson said, and left the room.

Alone except for the machines monitoring his every heartbeat and breath, Julian sagged back against the pillows, drained even by that short talk. There were things he needed to worry about—if not Grayson, then other things, like the memories that had been returned to his mind—but he was appallingly weak, and unstable to a frightening degree. Too much of his self-control had broken under the strain. He had to get that back.

Step one was to rest, and hope that sleep restored him. After that … he would deal with it when it came.

~

The sunlight felt strange on my face as I stood at the edge of the Arboretum. Had the past few days been cloudy, or had I been out mostly at night? Maybe it was the events themselves that made the days seem dark.

I dusted snow off a large granite rock and sat down to eat the muffin I'd picked up in the dining hall. The chill breeze nipped at my cheeks, but I needed the fresh air to wake me up; I'd slept like the dead after the healing circle. I sat in the morning sunlight and tried to release tension from my shoulders. When I was done, I decided, I'd call the hospital again. As of a few hours ago, Julian had still been sleeping, but he might be awake now.

I wondered what I would say to him if he was.

He'd let me touch his mind. Not like after his shielding exam, when he was in control of himself and what I saw; this was real vulnerability. But despite being crazed to the point of violence, he hadn't hurt me.

He trusted so few people—me, Robert, Liesel to an extent. Some wilders, surely. I felt, instinctively, that he would not have allowed even Robert to do what I had done.

It wasn't that my feelings had changed, so much as I'd finally realized—finally admitted to myself—what they were. Had been for a long time, maybe. But the evidence on hand wasn't enough for me to be sure he saw our connection the same way. There was a gap between us still, and I suspected I'd have to be the one to bridge it. That, or live forever wondering.

But did I have the nerve?

My surroundings were incongruously peaceful, few students out and about, the snow muffling all sound, as if there were nothing to fear in all the world. And with Grayson in charge of the problem, I could breathe again, knowing the burden dropped on me last night was no longer on my shoulders. I finished off the muffin and closed my eyes, drinking in the scant warmth of the sun to counteract the cold.

There was no sound to warn me, but with my nerves wire-tight, the inhuman presence was enough.

Leaping to my feet, I thrust one hand in my coat and pulled out my athame. I didn't have the first clue how to use it in combat, but if it came to that I could always try. The person standing awkwardly in the snow, however, wasn't Falcon, nor one of the Unseelie.

It was Julian.

He stared blankly at the knife in my hand. I threw it to the ground next to my bag, then flung myself at him.

The move was instinctive, and for one heart-stopping instant I wondered if it was wrong. But Julian didn't recoil from my hug. My hands on his back could feel every rib, every vertebra, the bones of his shoulders barely concealed beneath a thin layer of muscle. No coat to get in my way; he'd freeze, at this rate. He didn't even try to disguise the way he leaned on me for support. Instead he buried his face in my hair and stayed there. I could feel him trembling. He must have walked here from the hospital, the fool.

“You're all right,” I whispered, stupidly. No he wasn't, but he was here, and awake. It felt like a miracle. “I was so afraid … you were
gone.
I didn't know if we'd ever get you back.”

“I'd retreated into myself,” he said into my hair. His body tensed at the memory. “It was the only way to stay sane. But I couldn't tell what was real and what was a trick—not until I heard your voice. That brought me out again.” He shifted his weight. I took the cue and released him so he could step back and look me in the eye. “I can't believe you risked it.”

“I had to,” I replied without hesitation. Meeting his gaze was easier, now that I'd locked eyes with a sidhe. Julian was mostly human, after all. “I was the only one who could. Right?”

He didn't answer, but the way he averted his face told me I was right. And it gave me hope. I waited a moment, offering him the chance to speak, but his breath only caught, softly. I had to be the one to reach across that gap—reach, and hope there would be a hand waiting to take mine on the other side.

Now isn't the time,
the cautious side of me insisted. Not with what he'd just been through. But we might yet go through worse—far worse. If I didn't speak now, who was to say I'd get another chance?

“I would have done it for a friend,” I said, fighting for and not quite reaching a casual tone. “But you're more to me than that. Stupid of me to not see it before, but I guess sometimes I have to be beaten over the head with something before I'll admit it's there.” I needed to stop rambling and just say it. “I had to almost lose you to realize that I love you.”

Julian's whole body went stiff. It was as if a stone wall had slammed down between us, cutting everything off. I caught just one glimpse of his bleak expression before he turned away. “Don't say that.”

My breath froze in my chest. “What?”

He shook his head, a quick, tight motion. “Don't say that you love me. I don't love you.”

The abyss opened up beneath me, and I was falling. No hand to catch me. I'd thrown myself out there and come up short, because I was wrong; I didn't understand him like I thought I did.

Or did I?

I swallowed carefully, clearing my throat of the tears that threatened. In front of me, the rigid back, the taut line of his shoulders. I'd been seeing more and more of those lately, as Julian turned away from me again and again. And I knew why he did it.

To hide something.

“Really,” I said. My voice achieved exactly the dryness I was hoping for. “Let's talk about that.”

No reaction from him. I was determined to provoke one, though, to see once and for all if I was right about what lay behind the barriers. This had suddenly become the most important issue in the world. We couldn't go on, couldn't face the sidhe and the possible end of the world, without some kind of resolution.

So I spoke, my gaze unblinking on his back. “Let me tell you what I know. Wilders are notoriously jumpy, and you're as bad as the worst of them. But when your conscious control was
gone,
you didn't harm me. You didn't even try. In fact, you turned
to
me for help and comfort. My voice led you back; you said that yourself. You let me into your mind.”

Still no movement from him, although his shoulders were growing more tense by the second. “So I know you trust me. What else do I know? That you'll do whatever you think you have to—no matter how much it hurts you. Sometimes even if it hurts somebody else. You're not an asshole, Julian; you wouldn't be this cold to me if you didn't think you had a reason. You're
trying
to drive me off. I think it's because you
do
love me, but you're afraid to say so. Why?”

His hands clenched into fists at his sides. He was trying to shield, but for once he was failing; that legendary control had cracked, betraying a tangled, roiling mass of conflicting emotions. Fear dominated. “Are you afraid you'll hurt me?” I asked, honestly baffled. “We've already proved you won't. I know your power, and I'm not afraid of it. And if it's some bullshit about—oh, how you'll be a Guardian and die young, or
whatever,
have the decency to let me decide what I think of that. And I say it's no reason to quit before we start.”

Gods above, was I going to have to
hit
him to get a response? I'd run out of arguments. I said wearily, “Or if you can't do that, at least respect me enough to tell the truth. Lying isn't going to protect me, Julian.”

“I'm not protecting you!” He spun to face me and grabbed my shoulders, hands clamping down like vises. Julian's eyes met mine, and for once it wasn't his sidhe blood that made me flinch. Then his head dropped, and his hands relaxed. His voice was softer, almost inaudible. “I'm protecting myself. She said the one I loved would be lost. I couldn't live with myself if I brought that on you. So I can't love you.”

In all the twisted logic I'd imagined, I hadn't gotten anywhere near
that.

I reminded myself to breathe. “Julian, it doesn't matter what you say. All that matters is what you feel here.” I placed one hand on his chest, and failed to suppress the shiver that ran through me when I felt his heart beating under my fingertips. “Even
your
control isn't that good. You can't just decide what you're going to feel—and I don't want you to. You love me, and I love you. We'll deal with the rest later.”

Then, with courage I hadn't realized I possessed, I put two fingers under his chin, tilted his face up, and kissed him.

This time the shiver ran clear down to my toes, and only a little of it was the sidhe blood talking. Julian let me kiss him, at first, standing motionless as stone; then, hesitantly, he responded. The fine bones of his face warmed beneath my cold fingers and I knew, without telepathy, that this was new. In his driven, focused, monk-like life, he'd never let himself indulge in something as simple as kissing a girl.

When our lips parted, he leaned on me again, and I waited for my heart to slow down. “Kim,” he began.

“Don't.” I hugged him a little harder to stop the words. “It's
not
on your head. I make my own choices, Julian; don't rob me of that. If I'm in danger because of this, I'll deal with it.” That reminded me of his exact wording, and I voiced the question I would have asked sooner, if I hadn't been distracted by more pleasant things. “Who the hell told you that, anyway?”

“One of the—” He cut it off.

Pulling back enough to look at him, I nodded. “One of the sidhe. I had a visit from one last night—some guy calling himself Falcon.”

Julian closed his eyes, looking wearied, and worried. “Her name was Shard, or so she said. They don't give us their real names. But she's a visionary, a seer. Flint told me her prophecies are always true.”

That made me snort. “Do you know what Madison always says on the first day of intro divination? ‘There are three kinds of lies: lies, damned lies, and prophecy.' I'm in danger, sure, but I've been warned now. And I have no intention of being ‘lost.'”

A wavering smile crossed his face. “I hope not.”

“Kim!”

We both almost leapt right out of our skins. Had I really spent the last three months being startled at every turn, or did it only feel that way? But it was only Liesel, standing at the base of the hill.

“Go ahead,” Julian said. “I'm due before the Dean and company soon—supposedly to explain where I've been
this
time. Which should be interesting.”

He didn't know what we'd done last night. “Julian—Grayson knows. Robert and I told her about the sidhe. But I don't think she's told the Dean.”

He nodded, already looking more collected, more his usual self, than he had when he appeared. “She's a good choice. Probably the only one. Thanks for the warning; I'll bear that in mind when I meet with them.”

“Find me for dinner. If they don't roast you alive.”

Julian nodded. Then, in a swift and unexpected movement, he pressed his lips to my hand, holding it clasped in both of his for a moment longer before turning and making his slow way down the path.

“I saw that,” Liesel said when I skidded to the hill's base.

“Saw what?” I asked innocently.

She had to jump to catch up with me. “Julian. And you. Together. And him kissing your hand.” I couldn't restrain a grin. “I take it certain things have finally been said?”

“Have they ever.”

Liesel waited, but I didn't go on. “Don't I get to hear any more?” she demanded.

“No,” I said cheerfully.

“Kim! That's not fair!”

“And who says life is fair?” I grinned mockingly at her, then slowed my walk so she no longer had to half-jog. “We … said things. Good things.” Mostly. I ignored the memory of Shard's prophecy. Liesel didn't even know about the sidhe; I couldn't drop that on her.

“Is he better, then?” She always knew when to stop pushing. “Or is this just a temporary parole?”

“I'm not sure. He's going to meet me for dinner tonight, provided he's not flayed alive by the Dean, so either they've released him from the hospital or he's decided on his own that he's spent long enough there.”

“I know which one I'd bet on. But if he's up to it, then you can ask him some questions tonight.”

“Exactly.” I hoped he
was
up to questioning. Liesel wanted answers, but she had no idea just how badly we needed them.