The hardness in Masika’s stare melted a fraction. Her lips curled into a sad smile. “Don’t go soft on me now, Olivier.”
He shook his head and let out a bitter chuckle. “I won’t let you do this.”
“Well, good thing I’m not asking for your permission,” Masika shot back.
Olivier jolted from his seat, mouth open as he prepared to protest, but then something snapped inside Emilio. He found himself standing, his own voice carrying across the room as he spoke five words that he knew would solidify their fate.
“I want to go too.”
Olivier had gone impossibly still. His hands were splayed upon the table, his green eyes locked on Emilio, wide and unyielding.
“Don’t.” Olivier held his breath as though he were bracing for impact. “Emilio. I ambeggingyou—”
“Masika is right,” Emilio interjected softly. “We came here to help, didn’t we? To save the afterlife?” He looked among the three of them, shrugging. “Well…this is our chance.”
Olivier swallowed. He hadn’t moved a muscle. “You…youhave other skills.” His voice was low. Hoarse. “Talents that are better suited to the archives—” But Emilio cut him off, silencing Olivier with an unfamiliar spark of frustration.
“I want tofight.”
Olivier blinked, startled. Emilio had to admit…he had even surprised himself. But he couldn’t stop the idea now that it had solidified in his mind.
He wanted to fight. He wanted to make a difference.
For once…he didn’t want to be afraid.
Olivier must have sensed it too. The indignation in his stare softened into something tender and anguished, a quiet understanding stretching between them. He let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair.
“Well, I suppose that settles it, then.” He slid his gaze toward Catherine. “All three of us are going.”
Catherine hesitated. Her right hand rested upon the pommel of her sword, fingers drumming the handle. For a brief moment, Emilio wondered if she’d decline their offer.
But then she gave a single nod in response, striding toward the Battle Room doors.
“Tomorrow morning, meet me back here before the first bell.” She didn’t bother glancing back at them as she spoke, swinging open the double doors with a flourish. “Don’t be late.”
She was gone before any of them could utter another word.
9
AUGUST
His sister had not taken kindly to his arrival. August hadn’t exactly been expecting a warm welcome, but locking him inside a tent, shackled and bound, seemed a bit excessive.
Mere seconds after he had made his grand entrance, a pair of guards had apprehended him, tossing him into a nearby tent before tying him to a chair and binding his wrists with fire-infused shackles. Every time he so much as flinched, a searing heat scorched his wrists, traveling down his arm as though his veins were dripping with fire. It was funny, having more power than he’d had at Blackwood yet still feeling pain. But that was the one advantage Silas and his Ascended had. Numbed pain receptors granted by the Headmaster himself. And though August could now heal faster than a regular student—he still felt pain. Which made for an unwelcome weakness.
Not that it mattered. August wasn’t going to put up a fight. He simply sat, waiting. Because a moment alone with Edith waspreciselywhat he had been hoping for.
And he had known exactly what buttons to press to get what he needed.
August glanced around the tent, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. Inevitably, his mind began to wander. He couldn’t stop himself from latching onto the moment he had walked back into theencampment…the image of Wren staring back at him. He had expected to see thetiniestglimmer of joy, some indication that she was relieved to see him again, but all he had found reflected in those blue eyes of hers was abject terror at what he had done. A heartbreaking disappointment.
He had tried to explain. To whisper into her mind using their psychic connection:I have a plan. Just play along. I promise we’ll speak later.At first he had assumed she was ignoring him, or perhaps hadn’t heard him, because she’d said nothing back. But the closer he’d gotten to Wren, the more he’d felt a strange disconnect in her soul. An emptiness. It had dawned on him only a secondlater.
Her magic. Edith has blocked her magic.
He’d have to find a moment alone with her—and quickly. He couldn’t bear the thought of Wren believing he had decided to give up his humanity for the Order. That he was truly willing to betray her.
Yes…he had given up his humanity. That much was true. His soul was ruined. He had tethered himself to purgatory—permanently—and welcomed in the shadows. But he still had time before the shadows completely took over.
