12
IRENE
It wasn’t that Irene didn’t have the stomach for torture, but there was something particularly uncouth about doing it first thing in the morning.
The girl let out another broken cry, the sound echoing against the narrow stone walls. This time, the strangled scream was accompanied by the lightningcrackof corporeal magic as Samira thrust the glowing spear into the girl’s side.
Though Irene had expected her Council trial period to begin shortly after the tapping ceremony, she’d still been caught off guard when she’d awoken earlier that morning to find Samira Heydari and Everly Hawthorne standing over her bed, the pair looming like a set of snickering specters.
“Surprise!” Samira had said, yanking the sheets away from Irene’s body. “We’re Council buddies!”
For a brief moment, Irene had assumed she was still hallucinating. At least, she’dhopedshe was still hallucinating. But much to her dismay, Samira and Everly were not figments of her imagination, nor the product of some magically induced hangover. And their presence was very much real.
Instantly, panic had flooded through Irene.Mateo.But as she glanced around, the Demien was nowhere to be seen, so she could only assume he’d managed to sneak out when he’d sensedthe two Ascended approaching. Though Irene had told him about her initiation into the Council the previous night, she’d been hoping to discuss their strategy further, but it appeared any alone time with Mateo would have to wait.
Irene blinked in confusion, drawing her attention back to Samira and Everly. “Excuse me?”
Everly rolled her eyes. “What Samira means to say is…we’re the other potential initiates.” She gestured among the three of them. “For the Council.”
Irene couldn’t contain her disbelief. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
She wasn’t even trying to be a dick about it, butwhat in the actual hell?The two girls hadn’t been Irene’s first guess for who else might be chosen. She supposed Everly had her merits—she was ruthless and cold and had sent more students to reformatory than most Ascended combined—but she was sloppy. Easily swayed by her whims and emotions. And Samira…well, Samira was a notorious party animal who spent more time concocting hallucinogenic elixirs than doing anything of value. But maybe Irene had been underestimating the two of them.
Maybe they were more dangerous than she realized.
“Okay, well…” Irene had sighed, sitting up. She’d reached beneath her bed, grabbing her boots and sliding them on. “I’m assuming you’re not here to chitchat and braid each other’s hair, so what the hellareyou here for?”
Before either Samira or Everly could respond, a deep purple cloud had billowed between them, and then Housemaster Violet was materializing within the smoke. Her raven-black curls were pinned away from her angular face, dark brown eyes narrowed in assessment.
“They came to fetch you under my instruction,” Violet hadsaid, wrapping her tweed coat tightly across her chest. “It’s time for the Council test period to officially begin.”
And now here they were. Learning the mechanisms and intricacies of torture.
Irene steeled herself against the sour odor emitting from the cell they were in. When Housemaster Violet had initially relocated them, Irene had been struck by a wave of disorientation. She hadn’t recognized the strange corridor they’d been transported to. The air was damp and thick, with a mildewy scent that made her nose itch. But there was another scent in the air—something bitter and metallic, with a pungent undercurrent that reminded her of rotten meat.
Blood.
Housemaster Wesley had been waiting for them, leaning against one of the stone walls, nervously fidgeting with his glasses. When he’d spotted them, his head had popped up in attention.
“H-hello, girls.” His lips curled into an apprehensive grin. “Follow me.”
They’d walked through the narrow corridor in silence. As they ventured forward, the stone walls flanking their path slowly shifted into a seemingly never-ending line of cages. Most of the ones near the entrance were empty, though the floors were stained with oxidized blood.
“What the hell is this place?” Irene had asked out loud.
“These are our dungeons,” Violet had said matter-of-factly. “We are deep beneath the Ascended Quarters.”
Dungeons?Irene had shivered as the word echoed in her mind.
As they journeyed deeper through the corridor, a faint shuffle began to echo in the distance, a collection of weak and brittle breaths rattling in the air. And a few seconds later…Irene saw the first body.
They were lying in the fetal position, clothes torn and shredded, skin covered in gruesome lacerations. With every cage they passed, Irene was faced with another prisoner, each one more battered than the next. They were barely conscious. Their souls hanging by a thin, fraying thread.
How long have they been here?Irene had thought.Right beneath our feet.
Eventually, they had stopped in front of one of the cages. The girl inside was curled inward, arms wrapped tightly around her bony knees. Blood stained her tangled hair, a thousand jagged cuts marring the skin of her arms and legs. She was shaking. Teeth chattering so loudly it sounded as though they might break in half. When they’d approached the cage, the girl’s eyes had snapped up like those of a wild and frightened animal caught in a trap.
Thalia.
