Page 23 of Divine Oaths

“You don’t understand.”

“So, explain.”

His lips parted, but instead of answering, he took my hand. Heat blossomed in my cheeks, and suddenly, all the hurt and anger and rage I felt toward him for ignoring me these last few months dissipated against the feeling of our interlinked fingers. But then he spoke, his gaze hardened and focused on the bracelet I wore, and it all came crashing back.

“That doesn’t belong to you,” he hissed. He glanced behind him, worry etched in his expression. “And you’re playing with fire walking around here with it. At least cover it up or try to hide it. Do you want people to start asking questions?”

So he knew the bracelet belonged to the Westfield heir.

“Should they? I mean, it was in your car, Jojo. How exactly did it get there after the stabbing?”

For a moment, with our hands interlinked, a vision flashed in my mind, but Jojo moved his hand to my wrist, pulling me back to the present before my powers could take hold.

“Are you looking into my past?”

I yanked my hand from him.

“Not intentionally,” I admitted, crossing my arms and making sure my fingertips didn’t touch anything.

His gaze searched mine, the worry returning there. “Is something wrong with your powers? Is that why you’re here?”

He’d seen right through me. He knew me so well. And yet, I barely knew him.

“That doesn’t answer my question, Jojo. Why did you have the bracelet?”

“What are you trying to accuse me of, Sianna?” He was going to make me say it, daring me to voice my suspicions, even as I’d wanted to deny them.

And I couldn’t do it.

“Whatever you’re looking for,” Jojo said, “you won’t find it. Leave Westfield. It’s not worth being here.”

From the corner of my eye, I spotted Honey and the other man watching our unfolding argument. Other people were staring at us. Amid the crowd, whispers began to churn. Jojo noticed too.

“Let’s talk later,” he said, as if I’d already agreed to his offer, as if I was just some helpless, naive girl that he could keep stringing along.

“You can’t make me leave because of some cryptic warning. I have a scholarship. I belong here at Westfield, same way you do.”

He laughed.

“Look around, Sianna,” he said. “None of us belong in this school. We never will.”

But I’d already started walking away, slipping past groups of legacies and regular admits. Behind me, Jojo called my name, his footsteps following in pursuit. A waitress tried to stop me, but I ducked out of her way and turned a corner, and then another, and another, until the voices at the entrance of the hall grew distant.

A few paces away, I spotted a cracked door. One of the security key card readers had been installed beneath the knob. It blinked orange, rather than red or green, and I looked down to see a small wooden block wedging the door open. A soft breeze blew from the other side and the door groaned, drawing back ever so slightly before lurching forward.

Ahead of me, the hall continued to an intersection, but Jojo’s footsteps were getting closer and I was running out of time. If he or Honey found me, they’d probably deduct merit points from my student profile. I couldn’t start my time in Westfield with a disadvantage.

I made the decision in a split second, slipping through the door and pulling the wedge from its place. The lock clicked and a pulsing red light blinked from the key reader. Immediately, my body knew that I’d made the wrong choice.

I spun around and found myself at the entrance of a maze. This area was an open courtyard with perfectly trimmed hedges cutting a series of paths. It was early in the afternoon now, but dark clouds stretched their hand over the sky, and the only trickles of light came from the soft glow of a reddened sun. Cold wind pricked against the hairs on the back of my neck, and I wrapped my arms around myself to keep from shivering. There would be an exit on the other side of the maze. I just had to find it.

So, I started walking.

Gravel lined the path forward. The sound of my footsteps lifting dirt and stone lulled me into a comforting stride. The maze itself was towering. Dark green leaves growing from the hedges cast haunting shadows at every corner, their uniform trim unsettling as I trekked deeper and deeper.

Had I already turned this corner before? I turned back, only to find another hedge, another corner ahead. With each one I passed, the enclosure drew me in. The maze was eating itself like a snake swallowing its tail. Branches nicked against my arms, the hedges craning closer and closer with every turn. My footsteps beat against the gravel as the brisk evening wind pricked at my fingertips. Around the corner a figure stood, shrouded by bloody streaks of sunlight peeking through the hedges.

The figure was tall and broad, their skin pale like moonlight. Their hair was shaved into a close buzz cut, and they wore a gray hoodie beneath a Westfield blazer. As I drew closer, the cool intensity of their gaze burned into my vision. It was like the air had been sucked from my lungs, like the cold had drawn its ghostly hands against my neck and drew tighter and tighter until my breath escaped me. Pain cut through me, and the ever-faint trace of my perpetual migraine returned.