I’ve done this a thousand times—well, not a thousand, but all the Ash Wednesdays I’ve lived through since confirmation, whatever that maths out to—and if I’m being honest, it’s never meant anything, really. Neverfeltlike anything.
This is different.
Pulvis es, et in pulverem reverteris.
You are dust, and to dust you shall return.
The words hit me like a shockwave through my bones. My throat constricts—no, burns, deep under my sternum.
Near my heart.
No. It can’t be.
I know what the Dell’Acqua curse is said to do. I’vealwaysknown: a love that burns the body from within, a heart splitting like a vessel under pressure, a slow decay from the inside out. It always sounded terrifying, like something out of the old version of a fairy tale that doesn’t make it to the Disney movie.
Love shall claim him once, then again
Death shall come with a heart split in twain
But it sounded…distant. Unreal. Theoretical.
This is just…pain.
And it’s here.
Communion is happening. I chew, swallow, tasting metal and ash that does nothing to cool the fire spreading in my chest. By the time we’re dismissed, my hands are shaking.
“The final’s set,” Kingston says, his words steaming against the cold. “They’ve confirmed St. Ignaty will host. We’ll need to discuss strategy. Logistics.”
“Do I get to go?” Kai says, kicking at a gray chunk of snow. “Or are you leaving me behind for being a bad boy?”
“You’re coming,” Kingston informs him. “But we’ll use your shift with Gwenna to…” He glances at me. “Lanz. If we meet this afternoon?—”
“Sure, sure.” I swallow. “Yep. All good.”
“Speaking of shifts,” Kai says on a yawn. “Don’t you have somewhere to be, Pretty Boy?”
Shit. I shiver—still wishing I’d grabbed my coat—and look at the steeple clock. It’s almost 8.
Sweat prickles over my forehead despite the chill, like the ashes themselves are burning me. If this is what I think it is…then being close to Gwenna is only going to make it worse.
But what can I do?
I swore an oath.
I made a promise.
I took a vow.
“Right,” I say out loud. “Uh, see you guys.”
I hunch my shoulders and break for the path to Cornubia Hall.
Duty wins.
Duty will kill me.
Cal’s in the hallway. He barely acknowledges me—or tries to barely acknowledge me, I guess, because when he glances at me, he stops.
