Page 56 of The Villains of Winter

He was forced to witness the huntsmen adorn Elliott’s ears and head with the honorarium buck antlers. Elliott looked helpless.

James needed to join together with the rest of the thespians, if he wanted his alibi to be solid steel. He needed to leave with the production crew members while he could. The theater members were his testimonial accounts that he’d been with them the entire time–from the grit wooden stage of the ceremony to the lavish stage of the amphitheater.

However, James convinced himself he still had time with Elliott.

The actors were busy reciting lines and practicing cues with alpaca-wool scarves strewn over their necks; the quiet crew sat around, murmuring to each other about the horrors they witnessed in past ceremonies. They exchanged dramatic stories like passing Illica’s libretti between themselves.

For a breathless moment, James witnessed Kitty screaming, which snapped Elliott out of his sopor as he regained consciousness at last. In the dark, Kitty and Elliott, like rafts lost in sea tides of people, tried to reach each other as the overwhelming masses flooded Elliott.

The older men were embracing Elliott, patting him, saluting him, all in appreciation for his sacrifice. The older women grasped his cheeks, bequeathing him with their handmade wreath necklace around his neck, heaping their sympathetic thoughts and prayers onto him, shedding a tear down their faces. Elliott must’ve barely registered their presence.

His fierce eyes were on Kitty.

The fire torches and pyres burned reflectively in Elliott’s eyes.

James gave himself sixty seconds to pull himself together. The sight of their embrace desolated him. When Elliott was forcibly separated from her, James became completely undone. Don’t move, James. Don’t go to him. Remain in place–

Before he knew it, he tore through the crowds, he grasped Elliott.

“I’ll meet you in the end–” James could hardly catch his breath. He was hopeless and lost, his words colliding, grasping the front of Elliott’s shirt as firmly as he could, terrified Elliott would be taken from him. He stumbled on his words. I’ll meet you at the end of the woods. “Hold on for me.”

James pressed his mouth against Elliott’s forehead. He pressed their temples together afterward, emotion distraught in his eyes. His breaths hard.

Their heavy breaths were white vapors of frantic oxygen between them.

“Hold on for me in the Eisenhower Woods. Promise me that.”

“I promise.” Elliott gazed up softly at him and James had the overwhelming urge to kiss each of his eyelids and to promise to keep them safe for him. He’d battle them all to the death before he let Wulfram and his protégé exsect Elliott’s bichromatic eyes from him, disposing of him in crematoriums as though he were nothing but skin and muscle.

Perseus Swann would rid the world of Elliott, bisecting into his body mercilessly, then settle in to dinner at a Michelin-star restaurant with a luxuriant wine and a perfectly seared filet mignon without a moment’s disturbance. Perseus had attained his position as an elector on the commendation of Wulfram as his finest protégé. Perseus was the exemplar of an elector who would have no reservations or pity for anyone.

Right then, James understood why Perseus had patted his shoulder the night before. None of this is personal, you know that, right? It’s unfortunate when these tragedies happen, but it’s for the best. Callum, Valeria, and the rest were outvoted. You understand these matters.

Mistakenly, James had thought Perseus had voted for him. James had made an impassioned speech for Perseus to convince the electors to vote for him. He’d even shaken hands with Perseus afterward, his smile charismatic and grateful. You have my thanks, truly, Perseus. I’ve wanted the end of my life for a long time now.

Of course, James. You are the only soul I care about in the College. You will be missed.

He ran his thumb across Elliott’s soft lashes. “You won’t die. I won’t let you. You have my word, Elliott.”

Elliott couldn’t hear him any longer; he was shivery with the powerful, agonizing pain of the end of his life. James gripped onto him harder. If Elliott was adrift at sea–then James would be the life preserver jacket, the rope, the rescue boat, the seaman.

His vocal chords tightened. “I won’t ever let you die. You will live for a century if I can help it, Elliott.”

Can you hear me? Tell me you can hear me. James only wanted Elliott to tell him he believed him, to vow that he would not despair, and to swear to him that he wouldn’t surrender himself. Least of all to Lucien Claude Montclair.

Lucien would torture Elliott, if he was left alone with him.

However, Elliott wasn’t thinking of himself. Elliott choked out, “Keep Kitty safe for me. Vow to look out for her. Please.”

“You don’t need to even ask, Elliott.” Tell me you believe in me. James grasped his face in his hand, pressing their foreheads ever closer together. Tell me. James held his face with all his strength, the intensity of his eyes heightened. Tell me you haven’t given in, Elliott. “I care deeply for that soul of yours. Anima tua anima mea est. You understand that I will protect it? I will protect what is mine.”

Elliott always needed to hear it, it soothed him. However, James needed to hear from him that time.

Elliott smiled heartbreakingly. “Of course. You’re the best friend I ever had. I love you past the stars, James.”

A million words arose in the depths of James’s chest, roaring, flashing, like the rise of fiery thunderbolts prepared to blaze everyone around him. He felt the tenderest feelings for Elliott as his best friend, but now wasn’t the time for sentimentality. “Hold on for me.”

James intended to leave as the theater students were starting to trickle out, still rehearsing their lines and stage directions. There were a few stragglers that were picking at the winter harvest, sneaking in a few nibbles of the berries, beef, and goat cheeses.