Expiration Date (Books 1 and 2)

16 Lessons

Iris~~

One thing I never expected to do was to curl up in a chair in the Preeminence's office wearing sweatpants. While Jonas in the other guest seat does not wear sweats, his blazer is off and his button-up shirt is loosened. In each of our laps lies a French textbook. Lesson One is phrases, like how to say, "My name is" and how to express how I am feeling. Since Jonas speaks French fluently, he suggested he help me with the basics. He could always find me a tutor later.

"Je m'appelle Jonas," he says it slowly, enunciating each sound so I can hear it and dissect it.

I take a deep breath. "Bonjour . . . Je m'ap . . . pelle Iris." The words feel thick and tangled in my mouth, but Jonas nods encouragingly, and I try saying it again, and again, and by the fourth time, the words don't feel so stuck.

Jonas grabs a piece of notebook paper and begins writing something down. Probably words I should review. He pauses in between words, his pencil hovering over the paper. "I'm sorry for what my sister said."

I fidget with the corner of the paper. "It's nothing Erik wouldn't have said."

"Still."

I shake my head. "I'm fine. Really." This morning was my first time at breakfast. It being the third day since we returned, I knew I needed to. I couldn't hide forever. Jonas arranged a spot for me at his table, so I wouldn't be thrown into the lion's den of Society members I don't know and who all are rightly still suspicious of me. It was when I was taking my first bite of food that Gwen muttered how she hoped the food wouldn't kill me. It took a firm hand from Jay-yeon to keep Erik from splashing his water in her face. Gwen didn't say anymore, only returned to her breakfast as if she hadn't said a word. Erik was convinced my food was poisoned and then gave me his, with his half-eaten quiche and sausage.

"I'm going to talk to Gwen after this," Jonas says.

"Please don't." In my haste, I shut the book, losing the page. "I don't want her to think it bothers me."

He frowns. "If that's what you want."

"It is." I thumb through the pages again, trying to find the third page, which would be easy if the third page was actually page three, but the first dozen or so pages are in Roman numerals. "What are the markings on your door?" I noticed the symbols carved into the wood of the door the first time I came to his office but wasn't sure if I should have asked about them. I'm still not sure.

"The numbers one through twelve in Amorian. Though the actual words for the numbers are different than our titles. I'm sure you've noticed that our titles are similar to words found on Earth. We don't know if a long time ago Amorians heard them and adapted them, bringing them back to Amoria. But the symbols are true to Amoria."

"What languages do you speak?"

"Well English and French as you know. But I also speak Spanish and Amorian."

"Can you say something in Amorian?"

He props his elbow on the armrest and sets his chin on his fist. "Alevia qui quoelle moleve qui soleil."

"It's beautiful. What does it mean?"

"It's a bit personal."

I frown. "Something about your greatest fear?"

His face looks a bit forlorn. "Something like that."

"Does everyone in the Society speak the same languages?"