She doesn’t know how devastated he’ll be when they drag me away.
He’ll forget me. I know that. But right now, he’ll be devastated.
“Okay,” Margot says. She doesn’t sound confused like I expect. She only squeezes my knee again before standing. “I’ll find him.”
“Secora.”
I look up. I’m still on the bench outside of the headmaster’s office. I should have left with Margot to find Elliot, but I feel so tired. I’m not sure I’ll be able to walk home with either one of them. Mama Blake might need to come get me.
Ignoring the voice at the end of the hallway, I peer down at my wrists, checking they’re covered. I’ve worn golden cuffs for most of my life. They’ve kept me from producing magic, from being the killer the augurs swear I am. One on each wrist, pronouncing me as unworthy of the Mother’s gifts. I’d gotten used to the shame of wearing them.
But now, I have two additional pairs. Both silver. They’re made to weaken witches, to deplete their energy.
Not even the worst criminals wear golden and silver cuffs. But when Gregg Larson caught fire during study session, Stephan insisted he heard me casting a Burnish Spell. Within minutes, I was out of the classroom and in the headmasters’ office. There, they’d fastened the two new pairs around my wrists.
“It’s just a precaution,” the headmaster said as I sobbed. She’d added, “It’s temporary, just until the council decides on next steps.”
But I know it’s the start of a death sentence.
The first set of bands make it impossible to cast magic. The second two are making it difficult to breathe. To blink. To keep myself upright. Whatever hesitation they’d had in killing me before, it’s clear they’ve lost it.
If I wear these long enough, they’ll kill me, and no one even cares. They’ve left me alone in this hallway, and I can’t help but wonder if they’re hoping I will die. If they’ll claim it was an accident to avoid the Mother’s wrath.
I look away from my wrists and finally acknowledge the boy standing beside me.
The Mother has a sense of humor, sending Harrison my way today. Both he and Elliot missed school today, but of course he’s here to witness this.
“Secora,” he says again.
I tuck my hands under my thighs, trying to hide the number of cuffs I now wear. Harrison’s attention flickers toward them anyway, and I stiffen. He already knows. Of course he knows. He’s probably the reason I’m here to begin with.
“I didn’t set Gregg on fire,” I tell him. I steel my voice and straighten my shoulders. I try to make myself look as big as possible, even as I sit cowering before him. My confidence is as thin as orphanage blankets, and I have no doubt he sees through it.
“I know you didn’t,” he says.
He isn’t smug. He doesn’t sound pleased or amused. Instead, he looks unexpectedly compassionate. It’s an expression I’ve seen on him plenty of times—just never directed at me.
“You know?” I repeat. My voice wavers, gives me away. I do my best to sharpen it again, but it’s useless. I sound exactly as desperate as I feel. “Then you need to tell the headmaster. If you know?—”
“That’s why I’m here,” he interrupts. He shoves his hands into his pockets, eyes flicking away from me.
Right now, the school is dark and quiet. Classes ended hours ago, and once the headmaster dismissed me, she left too. It’s only me here, until Margot returns. I shift on the bench, unpleasantly aware of my own helplessness. I have rarely spent time alone with Harrison, and not one of those times has ended well for me.
I force myself to stand, stumbling from the effects of the cuffs. My stomach clenches with unfamiliar nausea.
Harrison doesn’t step forward like I expect. On any other day, he’d use his height to tower over me, to make me feel small and weak. Today, when I’m more powerless than ever, he keeps his distance.
“Why are you here?” I demand. I take an unsteady step backward, expecting him to mirror the movement. Instead, he doesn’t so much as flinch. His hands are still in his pockets. His face still looks soft and kind.
“Elliot sent me,” he says.
I don’t let myself react. Even as my heart pounds and my body stirs with unease, I don’t move. I don’t so much as blink out of rhythm, terrified I’ll give something away.
Elliot and I haven’t told anyone we’re together. I’m a Dark One. It’s forbidden. And even if Elliot doesn’t know his best friend torments me, he must realize Harrison wouldn’t take it well. He didn’t like Margot being around me. Elliot loving me would be an unacceptable level of betrayal.
“Look,” Harrison says. He finally removes a hand from his pocket, and I flinch, bracing myself. His lips twitch into a frown at the movement. “I know you and Elliot are hooking up, all right? He told me a couple days ago. When he heard what happened with Gregg, he sent me to get you. He’s stuck with Madam Lyrie.”
I study his face.
