“You can’t seriously be letting her go,” Misha snarls.
I glower at him and, in Latgalian, grind out, “Do I tell you what to do with your woman?”
His nostrils flare but he retreats a step, backing off in more ways than one.
Snagging her hand, I lead her to the dance floor. She cuddles into me, seeking comfort. I want to ask her again why she’s putting herself through this. I want to demand she ignores their call. But I know she won’t.
I promised I wouldn’t cut her wings and I meant it.
A sudden sob escapes her. “Y-Your dress. I’m wearing the wrong outfit!”
“That doesn’t matter.” I press my lips to her ear. “Remember what I said about it being a game of strategy?”
“Y-Yes.”
“Win. The red cloak means you’re the top of the leaderboard now, but if you want to impress them, you need to take first place again.”
“I understand. The dress?—”
“Forget about it. Would a more sedate gown have been better perceived?Da. But we work with what we have.”
She bites her lip. “You said it’s like chess?”
“They put you in situations where you have to impress them.”
“I can do that.”
“Of course you can. You’re Victoria Vasov, soon-to-be Lyanov. You can do anything you set your mind to.”
Her tension fades. “You’re right.”
“It could be something like fulfilling a lie or defending yourself verbally. They want to see how you respond in worst-case scenarios. Harrington said that each initiate’s rite is different.” That bastard better not have lied to me—he’s running out of fingers. “Because they’re not fucking around.”
“What does that mean?”
“The stakes are real.”
“Jesus.” She hangs her head until I hold the back of her neck and urge her to look at me. Our eyes entwined, she straightens her posture. “I’ll see you tomorrow at the house, but I’ll call you the moment I can.”
“Remember, Victoria…”
She wets her lips. “Kill.”
Still holding her nape and imbuing my faith in her into the gesture, I kiss her. “Don’t stand me up now that you’ve finally set a date.”
Her laughter is tighter than earlier, but she relaxes in my embrace. “I won’t, Maxim. I won’t.”
TWENTY-SEVEN
A POOL PARTY WITH CORPSES
“Man,she looks hot. Where the fuck did you collect her from? Lucky bastard.”
I was almost relieved when the brother who picked me up turned out to be Alec—the captain of the hockey team. I’ve seen him around campus and at Dopie’s, the local diner. He has the personality of wet celery, but seems mostly harmless.
I’m less happy about the idea he could be who the Veronians want to partner me up with, but I’ll deal with that later. Once I’m a Veronian.
My biggest fear over the course of the car ride was that a Veronian just collected Wynter from the Sinners’ compound.
