Irene summoned a relocation spell, tilting her head in confusion when she materialized right outside her room, as opposed toinsideit. As she pressed her hand upon the door, she felt the rhythmic pulse of a defensive barrier placed around her room—something to deter relocation spells from crossing through. Butshehadn’t crafted it. Only one other person could have.
And then she noticed something else. The soft murmur of voices on the other side of the door. No. Justonevoice. Mateo’s. But who could he be speaking to? Nobody at Blackwood was supposed to know he was here. Was he communicating withsomeone at the Order again? Was there another Demien in there with him?
Irene pressed her ear to the door. She leaned in closer, attempting to piece together what he might be saying, but all she could hear was the deep rumble of Mateo’s voice, the words muffling before she could unravel them. And then—
Irene stumbled forward as the door swung open.
“Hello, Irene.”
Mateo stood in front of her, arms crossed, an amused smirk on his face. But Irene didn’t bother feeling embarrassed—it washerroom, after all. If he was having secret meetings in the dead of night, she had a right to know.
“Who the hell were you talking to?” Irene pushed past him and strode across the room. She slammed the door with a flick of her wrist, spinning on her heels to face Mateo, who continued to stare at her with that slightly amused grin.
“No one.”
Irene scoffed. “Liar,” she shot back. “I heard you. And why did you place a relocation barrier on my room?”
Mateo’s eyes raked her face. The self-satisfied smirk on his lips faded. “You have something to tell me.”
It wasn’t a question. Somehow, he’d sensed it the moment he had looked at her. Irene had to admit, it was a bit unnerving, though a part of her couldn’t help but appreciate how well he had come to know her.
“And now we’re changing the subject…” she muttered with a petulant roll of her eyes.
But Mateo had clearly made the decision to ignore her unrelenting questioning. He stepped closer. His blue eyes seemed to darken as he drank her in.
“You’re easy to read,” he said. “What is it?”
Irene crossed her arms. She most certainly wasnoteasy to read, but she wasn’t about to let Mateo know he’d gotten under her skin.
“Housemaster Marigold took us to the Guard Tower.”
Mateo raised his brows.
“And?”
“She taught us how the outer wards are crafted.”
Mateo’s eyes instantly brightened. He closed the distance between them, gently placing his hands upon her shoulders.
“You can dismantle the wards?” He searched her face, waiting. But Irene shook her head and the spark of excitement in Mateo’s face instantly deflated.
“It’s not that simple,” she explained. “There’s no bypassing the outer wards without a special defensive relic given to all members of the Council. A coin. But maybe there’s a way to steal one. Break into the faculty rooms—”
“No.” Mateo dropped his hands, burying them in his hair. He began to pace back and forth, seemingly lost in thought. “If the coin holds that much power, I doubt we’ll find it hidden in some office. You’ll need your own. You’ll need to be chosen.”
“That’s a gamble,” Irene said. Not to mention an awful amount of pressure. “There’s no telling if I’ll win or not—”
“You’ll win,” Mateo interjected, coming to a sudden halt. He turned to face Irene. The intensity in his gaze made the hairs on her neck rise. A blanket of goose bumps shivered down her arms. “You will. That’s why I chose you, Irene. I could have chosen Everly or Samira or any other student. But I didn’t. I choseyou.”
Irene’s breaths came to her sharp and ragged.
“Why?” she whispered.
Mateo kept his gaze anchored on her. Irene was desperate to know what he was thinking. He was keeping secrets from her, that much was clear, but there was something else. Every time he looked at her, she saw a painful recognition in his eyes.Grief.As if the mere act of looking at Irene was too much for him to bear.
His response finally slipped out of him, shattering the silence.
“You’re so much like her.”
