“The Equinox Gathering.” August’s deep voice broke the silence of the tent. “A time of worship. Of remembrance. An opportunity for new recruits to pay respect to the one who will usher us out of darkness and into the light.”
Wren shivered at the reverence in August’s voice. Nausea curled around her throat, but she swallowed it back, forcing a stoic mask. She knew that the other Demiens were watching her, analyzing her every facial expression, and she refused to hand them any ammunition to use against her.
“The Reaper’s Kiss is a sacred tradition,” August continued. “And tomorrow evening, you all will be awarded with the opportunity to take part in it. With your offering of blood andshadow, not only will the Soulless One’s power be nourished, butyourswill be too. Your connection will be forged. Your power…awakened.” Wren shivered at the reminder of their dwindling countdown.
Tomorrow evening.They barely had two full days left to find a way out of the encampment.
August snapped his fingers and the journals around the room slammed open, pages fluttering as they each landed on a blank page. “I want you all to think about what Equinox means by reflecting on your Reaper’s Kiss. When you pour your offering of blood and shadows into the fire, there must be a concrete, definitive intention tethering it to the Soulless One. And please remember…this is not merely a suggestion. You all know what happens if your Reaper’s Kiss is deemed…unsatisfactory.”
A few people shifted uncomfortably in their seats at his veiled threat, while others immediately grabbed their pens and began writing. Wren glanced over at Quinn, who was focused on her journal, her elegant handwriting creating aesthetically pleasing loops on the aged parchment.
“What happens if your Reaper’s Kiss is rejected?” Wren asked in a whisper.
Quinn’s eyes narrowed in warning.“Shh.”
Wren groaned, crossing her arms as she slumped in her chair. She stared down at her own blank page. Even if she wanted to indulge in the assignment, there was no way she could concentrate on anything other than the feeling of August’s eyes on her.
Wren snapped her gaze up to meet his. August was staring directly at her, brows furrowed. The tension of their kiss echoed in the air between them. The ghosts of August’s hands lingering against Wren’s skin.
Despite the tension permeating the air, Wren decided to take a chance, scribbling something in her journal and flipping it toward August.
You sound like a brainwashed idiot.
August let out a sudden cough, a feeble attempt at masking his surprise, though Wren could clearly see that he was biting back laughter. She smiled triumphantly, feeling wholly pleased with herself, which only seemed to frazzle August even more. He spun the silver ring around his index finger, tongue pushed against the roof of his mouth. Eyes still focused on Wren, August took a single step around the podium, though he came to a halt when a voice echoed a couple of rows behind Wren.
“General Hughes?”
Wren glanced over her shoulder, spotting the source of the voice—a boy with reddish-brown hair and a thin line of scar tissue over his lip. He was staring at August with a perplexed expression, brows lifted in a silent question.
August narrowed his gaze. “Yes? Devon, is it?”
The boy nodded apprehensively. “I…I was wondering…is there a way to ensure that our offering is deemed worthy?” He fidgeted with his pen, eyes nervously flitting around the room. “I mean…I know our connection to the Soulless One must be strong, but…is there…is there a way to ensure that our Reaper’s Kiss isn’t denied?”
“Well.” August chuckled darkly, the sound sending a shiver down Wren’s arms. He prowled around the podium, inching closer to the front row. “There is no certainty when it comes to the Soulless One’s desires. No manual you can follow. If you open your soul to the shadows…if you succumb to them…then you should have nothing to worry about. If you don’t, however”—Augustsmirked, head tilted—“well, then…you most certainlydohave something to worry about.”
The boy swallowed. “Y-yes. Of course.”
Silence fell upon them once more as the class resumed their writing, the scraping sound of pens against parchment filling the room. Wren leaned back in her chair, arms crossed, as she met August’s gaze once again.
He took a step closer, splaying his palms upon Wren’s desk, and leaned in toward her. “I expect you to complete the assignment as well,catalyst.”
His voice was a deep, threatening whisper. If Wren didn’t know any better, she would have believed the venom in his stare. The darkness in his words. But she saw what nobody else could see…the slight teasing curl to August’s mouth. The unspoken words echoing in his smoke-filled eyes, which seemed to whisper:Play along.
Wren straightened in her seat. “I have nothing to say.”
August’s eyes raked her face. “Insubordination won’t get you anywhere. In fact…it’ll only be to your detriment.”
Wren raised her brows.
“Is that a threat?”
August leaned closer.
“It’s apromise.”
Wren bit back the smile creeping onto her lips.It’s a promise.Only she understood the real meaning behind his words—the covert message threaded between his hollow threats.
I made a promise. And I always keep my promises.
