Oriana's Eyes by Celeste Simone Page B

school as all of us are? Is there any alternative?
    “She was not raised in Odon’s schools,” Dorian answers and then begins to follow after the others.
    I feel his hand slide from behind me, hanging back a moment to consider his answer. “Then where was she raised?” I finally ask.
    Dorian stops and turns. There’s a spark in his eyes. “Come, I’ll show you.”
     

 CHAPTER FIFTEEN
    Dorian’s reply leaves me thirsty for answers. I move to follow but am jolted to a halt as pain stabs into the side of my neck. I gasp as my vision blackens. I clutch the spot convulsively and try to steady myself despite my blindness. I nearly fall to my knees but am able to catch myself as my sight returns and I grab onto the trunk of a nearby tree.
    My hand slides over the spot. I hadn’t noticed it was so sore. I feel the swollen lump of a fresh wound. I guide my fingers over it a second time to be sure I felt correctly, clenching my teeth to bear the pain. How did this happen? I search my memory for a fall or attack. I recall the bruised skull I received when I was captured from my room; was it from that? Or maybe from being dragged into my cell, or striking the stone when they threw me to the floor. I had been unconscious and unable to catch myself.
    No, this is different. It’s as if an object has penetrated into my neck, inserted through the skin. Not an aimed fist or a rough shove. My body is bruised enough from that already. This could not be from the handling of any guards.
    I recall a white room, bright lights. The voice of a man. He is asking me questions, but I refuse to speak.
    “He will come for her. I’m certain.” The voice is chilling.
    “Oriana? Are you all right?” I feel the warmth of Dorian’s hand in mine. He looks into my eyes searching for the source of my unsettling expression.
    Abruptly an icy coldness surfaces in my veins, so cold that it burns. Its intensity collects at the wound. It reaches up my neck like long needle fingers, enveloping my brain. My mind cries out as it is suffocated into submission. I grab my head with both hands, sucking air through my teeth, trying to fight the overpowering grip of an internal force. Then as soon as it began, it is over. I look up, unable to form a response. In fact, I’ve forgotten what Dorian even asked. I stare at him blankly.
    “Oriana, what is it?” Dorian has dropped my hand now and is grasping me by the shoulders. My body feels unusually numb, but slowly returns to normal.
    “I … I don’t know. I mean, I can’t remember.” I look into his face, which only increases my fright. Somehow I feel like my mind is wiped clean, or rather that something within has been coated with a smooth whiteness.
    Dorian says nothing for a moment, his mouth gaping and that awful look in his eyes. Finally he says, “Let’s keep moving. The farther we get from that place, the better.”
    He starts off again toward the others, this time lingering by my side. I look over my shoulder at where we came from and cannot avoid a shudder. As I turn my head to look forward, I notice Dorian staring at me—at the base of my neck.
    “What is it?” I ask. I don’t like the way his eyebrows have narrowed, or his lips have tightened. He has even grown pale.
    He makes eye contact as if he has been caught at something and quickly turns to look ahead. “Nothing, nothing at all.”
    We catch up to the others, who have paused to wait for us. They all seem anxious to continue on and had been moving fairly quickly despite having to help Azura. She seems most willing to speed up, probably looking forward to reaching her home. She was in the caves longer than I was. Didn’t Dorian say he’d been planning her rescue for a while? It must’ve been far more complicated than the University. He had to calculate every tunnel and guard to plan not only sneaking in but escaping as well, and that meant planning the amount of time it would take to retrieve us from within the cell.
    Why was