Page 37 of Divine Oaths

Alaster cleared his throat, his cheeks flushed but his expression otherwise empty of any concern.

“Actually, I’m here for another matter entirely. One that is certainly more grave than whatever gossip has taken up the president’s time.”

He nodded at Angelica, and the woman shot an uncertain glance at me before speaking.

“I treated Miss Adu yesterday,” she said. “She had scratches all over her body, and her nose was bruised and had likely been bleeding.”

I stiffened, hating that they were already framing what had happened to me. It was a grim picture, one Alaster had seemed prepared to paint about his cousin. But now that I was here and he’d managed to wedge a shard of doubt into my consciousness, part of me wanted to use this interrogation to uncover answers myself. Why had Kasem been in the maze? Why had he lied about seeing that terrifying-looking figure, and why had he wanted my silence?

“Miss Adu,” the president said. “Can you recount the source of your injuries?”

I hesitated, unsure.

At the president’s side, Jojo shifted, his gaze hard, his fist clenched.

“You can tell us, Sianna.”

The president cleared his throat, reining in Jojo yet again.

“It was Alaster and Researcher Saint James who recommended that Scholar Saint James be here for your explanation,” the president said. “That said, they didn’t elaborate further.”

Kasem looked between his brother and his cousin and threw his head back in laughter.

“What a duo the two of you make. Really, I’m impressed,” he said. “Should we also bring Honey in the mix? If we’re not going to question her about her own circumstance, then surely she’d like to weigh in here, at least?”

“Honey is barely there half of the time,” Alaster snapped. “As if she’d be an accurate witness. Especially since the two of you are in a relationship now.”

Kasem glanced at his cousin with cool regard, ignoring Jojo entirely. “Is that what Honey and I are now? That’s news to me. I’m assuming that means she’s grown tired of geriatric entanglements.”

Kasem smiled, a wolfish glint in his eyes when Alaster lunged for him, grabbing Kasem by the neck of his shirt. Angelica screamed.

“Gentlemen!” Provost Henning shouted. “Gentlemen, please.”

But it was Jojo who tore Alaster and Kasem apart.

“You’re playing with fire, Kasem,” Jojo hissed.

Kasem pushed Jojo away. “Get off me,” he said.

I caught a glimpse of the silver flask in the breast pocket of the wine-colored jacket Kasem wore as he stumbled back, pointing an accusatory finger at Jojo. “You came back when I warned you not to. When I practically begged. And that’s fine. You’ve made your choice. But don’t test me, brother. You don’t know what I’m capable of.”

Jojo grabbed the flask from Kasem. “Actually, I’m pretty sure I do. And as much as you’d like to pretend you’re capable of changing anything, we both know the truth.”

“Enough,” the president snapped. “All of you. You are leaders of learning at one of the greatest institutions in the country, not children. Not anymore. These petty fights must end.”

Shame washed over Alaster, and Jojo bristled too.

“I apologize, Father.”

“And I too, Uncle,” Jojo said, giving a little bow.

“It’s President Saint James to you,” the president snapped, but his words were directed at Alaster, not Jojo.

Alaster bowed his head. “I apologize, President Saint James.”

Kasem seemed unmoved. “Alaster was just reminding us who he is. He so enjoys reminding everyone what he thinks of me. But, Uncle, I do agree with you. There’s a severity to these accusations that deserves an equal and just punishment if proved guilty.” He frowned, feigning thought for a moment before continuing. “I think that would be my first policy when I take over Westfield,” Kasem said. “When I’m president—no, sorry, when I own Westfield—we’ll bring back corporal punishment. You know, we used to have that here. In the 1800s. Except when I take over, it won’t be for the students. It’ll be for the faculty,” he said, turning his gaze to Alaster and Provost Henning with a cool smile. “You all have gotten away with pointing fingers. How about we lay our cards down, see who among us is guilty of what, and dole out punishments accordingly?”

Alaster scoffed. “You see, President Saint James, this is what happens to Westfield when we let waste think they can claim our family’s legacy. He’s lucky their father isn’t here today. He’d rue what his youngest has become.”