Page 83 of Stormbreaker

“But your family will still disown you!”

“I know, but it’s still better than the alternative,” she says. “At least I’m still Society.”

“Yes, but you’ll be . . .” I can’t even bring myself to say it. My best friend wants to join the monsters who hunt down and kill people.

People like me.

“What’s the problem?” she asks. “I fixed this! We can both join Aria together. It’s perfect!”

I sit back. “Trin, I’m not joining Aria. What makes you think that?”

“Your first test . . .” she says. “You tested for House Aria!”

“I know, but that was a mistake. I have to join Fiama. You know that.”

Some of her enthusiasm wanes when she realizes I’m serious.

“Trin, you didn’t really think—”

“What happened to you?” comes another voice. It’s Knox. His eyes widen as they scan me up and down.

“I had my second test,” I answer. I make eye contact with Trinity, who’s possibly just noticing the blood even though I’m pretty sure it’s hard to miss.

Knox steps closer, hovering over me. “What happened?”

I sit up and lean against the wall. “You know I can’t talk about it.”

He wouldn’t understand why I did it anyway.

“Poet, did you pass House Fiama’s test?”

I sense Trinity waiting for my answer, too.

She really thought she’d figured out a perfect solution to her problems.

I’ve never been so grateful that we aren’t supposed to disclose what happens during our initiations.

When I refuse to answer, Knox sits down on my other side. “Poet, we’ll be married in a few years; you can tell me. I’ll find out soon enough anyway.”

I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose, which makes the cut across my forehead ache.

“Wait, what are you doing out here if you just did your test?” he asks next.

Now his expression turns to suspicion as he puts two and two together.

I press my mouth together. “Waiting for Devon and Stevie.”

“Why?”

My gaze shifts away, and I’m sure I couldn’t look guiltier if I tried. Knox grabs my chin and directs my face toward him.

“What are they doing?” he demands. “Why are you waiting for them?”

I wrench my face from his hold. “No reason.”

“Poet . . .”

“They had to discuss my results.”