Despite the anger and resentment seizing her heart, Masika couldn’t help but briefly marvel at the sheer beauty that was Catherine. The years had hardened her, her features alight with an intensity that wasn’t there before, but she was still undeniably breathtaking. Her tawny hair was tied into multiple braids that fell down her leather-clad shoulders, the tips brushing against her waist. An armored corset covered the curves of her torso, ruby buckles adorning the front. She donned the Resistance red in her bracers, the armguards fitted around her forearms.
It was excruciating, being this close to her again. A tirade of memories threatened to overtake Masika—late nights spent hidden beneath the winding corridors of Blackwood, whisperingsecrets and sharing parts of themselves that nobody had seen before. Trading kisses beneath candlelight. Holding hands as they walked through the mist-shrouded grounds.
Masika shut her eyes, pushing the thoughts away. She wasn’t here for Catherine.
She was here to listen.
As Masika made her way around the room, passing by a small oval mirror, she caught a glimpse of her reflection. She startled for a moment, afraid the others could see her, before quickly remembering the cloaking enchantment concealing her from the rest of the Battle Room. Her chest tightened at the sight of the unfamiliar scar marring her deep brown skin, slicing down from her eyebrow to her neck. The healers had done what they could to mend her injuries, though they were unsure why they hadn’t been able to heal the scar completely.
But Masika didn’t mind it anymore.
The scar was proof that she had crawled her way out of the Decennial. That she had beat Silas at his own game.
And if she had beat the game…then perhaps she could win the war.
Masika shifted her gaze away from the mirror and back toward the table when a voice cut through the restless murmurs of the room.
“I think we’ve endured enough waiting,” said a girl with cropped silver hair seated among the combat trainers. Floral tattoos adorned her brown skin, traveling up her forearms and onto her shoulders. Her eyes were locked in on Catherine. “What’s this about, Cat?”
Cat?Masika couldn’t help but feel a slight sting at hearing the nickname.
An unwelcome memory fluttered through her mind.
Masika had just finished classes for the evening. She’d found Catherine sitting by the hearth in Ivory House, legs crossed and hands extended toward the crackling flames. She crossed the room, slowly sinking down next to her on the floor.
“You okay?”
Catherine blinked, as if she’d just realized Masika was next to her. She’d been acting strange the past few days. More distant. Masika would often catch her staring out of a window, a sort of vacant look in her eyes.
“Just tired,” Catherine murmured softly beneath her breath, mustering up a small smile, though the light didn’t quite reach hereyes.
Masika reached out her hand, gently tucking a strand of tawny hair behind Catherine’s ear. Her fingers briefly grazed the other girl’s cheek, and Masika watched as a blanket of goose bumps fluttered up and down Catherine’s neck.
“There’s something on your mind, Cat. I can tell.”
Catherine gnawed on her cheek. Masika held her breath, waiting. But then Catherine simply laced her hand through Masika’s, bringing the back of her hand up toward her lips, brushing a featherlight kiss upon her knuckles.
“I’m fine, my little dove. Promise.”
Masika shuddered, pushing the memory away, forcing herself back to the present. In front of her, Catherine inhaled a deep breath, leaning forward. She focused her attention on the silver-haired girl.
“Dina…settle down.”
Dina slumped back into her chair, though she kept her gaze fixed on Catherine. The others watched intently as Catherine stood from her chair, hands splayed over the table.
Masika made a mental note of the key dangling at Catherine’ship. Though they were allowed to roam freely throughout the Resistance’s base, there was one area that was explicitly forbidden to enter. One area that only the Leaders themselves ever stepped foot in.
The Southern Wing.
Whatever Catherine was hiding in there wasclearlyvaluable…and Masika had every intention of figuring out what it was.
“I understand you’re all eager to know why we’ve called this meeting, so I’ll cut to the chase.” Catherine’s tone was calm and level, though Masika could sense the underlying wariness peeking at the edges. “As you all know, our latest tracking crew left the base three days ago. They were meant to return tomorrow, however…there’s been a problem.”
Masika had heard of these tracking crews…and the danger of being part of them.
Despite the Resistance being partially made up of ex-Demiens, none of them were able to pinpoint the location of the Demien Order’s encampment. It was enchanted to be hidden…even from memory. Every ex-Demien who tried to recollect where they had come from—who tried to trace their way back to the encampment—couldn’t remember a single thing. It was as if the memory had been carved out of their mind, replaced with a murky haze. Which meant that every few weeks, a new group of Resistance members would venture out into purgatory in the hopes of tracking down the Demien Order’s location.
Not a single crew had been successful.
