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I growl and kick furiously behind me, but I only meet solid, unmovable legs. A voice, deep and malicious and as silken as liquid chocolate chuckles in my ear. “Keep fighting,” he breathes. “I love your spirit.”

Galvin. Galvin is behind me, holding me with inhuman strength and bony, monstrous hands. Did I imagine everything at the feast earlier? Did I dream up his softness?

The glow of a scarlet blade breaks through the Darkness, and the shadows recede enough to reveal Lonan’s face before me, the fiery Light of his anchor cutting sharp, angry planes across his features.

“Release her. This is your only warning.”

Galvin laughs again—the sound of it so cruel, dripping with dark disdain. “As if I’m the one she needs to be protected from.”

I take the opportunity to fling my head back, cracking my skull against his nose. He hisses, and I wrench my scythe-wielding hand out of his grip. In one movement, I whirl on him, and my blade is hooked behind his neck.

Galvin is not afraid. He stares down at me impassively, his eyes shadowed. Something hungry and possessive burns in those deep-ocean irises. He tilts his head at me. “You don’t want to do that, darling.”

“Give me one reason,” I fume.

He smiles—the same damn charming grin he and his brother share. He leans close, till his lips hum against the shell of my ear. “You couldn’t if you tried.”

And then, like the strike of a viper, he loops his arm around my waist, pulls me against him, and lunges. Lonan’s blade slashes, but he’s too late. I am swept away.

Chapter Fifteen

Blood rushes in my head. My vision spots, blurring with the already dark hallways of the school. Things stream by me that don’t make sense—portraits and furniture. The thought comes to me slowly, as though it had to wade through mud to reach my consciousness—I am upside down.

I still feel the grip of Galvin’s arm around me—I am imprisoned against his body as he moves faster than a person has any business moving. Saints, is he . . . climbing? We’re moving so quickly I can’t keep up with what I’m seeing—I can only hold on, my arms clinging to his shoulders out of desperation.

I’m carried until the shouts of my friends and classmates are distant behind me, until the air is different and the Dark of Lonan’s shadows is gone. I can hardly breathe.

Finally Galvin slows and drops to the floor, carrying me like a sack of flour flung over his shoulder. I struggle again, but every swing against him is like punching a brick wall. He carries me to a room that is nearly black, lit only by a small glowing lamp at the very top of a dome-shaped ceiling. I’m having a hard time holding on to consciousness after how fast we traveled. It’s the worst feeling—like I’m about to vomit or fall off a cliff, but I can’t cry out for help.

Finally, he sets me on my feet. Galvin looks down at me, his face pale and panicked, so different from the cold, predatory look he wore moments ago. Gently, he smooths back loose strands of my hair from my forehead.

What a strange twist of Fate this is. But I chose it—this unpredictability. I could’ve kept myself safe—I could’ve chosen the ruby or the opal over the onyx stone. But I chose the unknown, and this is the consequence. A man or a monster looking down at me like I’m the most precious thing on earth.

“Are you all right?” he asks.

Of course I’m not all right. I’m not quite sure how to form words at the moment, and I leave his question unanswered, instead looking around the room.

It’s a bedroom. I don’t recognize it, and I guess that it must be the guest chambers, where school visitors stay. It’s definitely more opulent than the cramped dormitories. A four-poster bed dressed with deep, plush violet bedding stands opposite a wall with a hearth, embers still dying in its depths. Overhead, the domed ceiling is painted with constellations. This is a room fit for a prince.

Galvin sighs. “I’m sorry for how that went. My brother . . .” He shakes his head. “You have to understand, when it comes to you, I . . .” He doesn’t meet my eyes. Instead he sweeps a hand through dark locks. Like he’s nervous. He looks young and shy. But before—the voice laced with charm and vicious power . . . that was him too. “I was afraid. I’ve been trying to find you all evening. I didn’t want my brother to steal you away again.”

Is he talking about earlier, when Lonan locked me in the tower?

“I don’t understand . . .” I’m trying to piece this together.

He smiles gently. “I know. It’s been a . . . night. But I promise to explain everything.”

Galvin takes my hands in his and gently leads me toward the bed. “Sit,” he beckons.

“I’d rather stand.” Every muscle in my body is strung taut. I feel like I’m tiptoeing through a den of sleeping lions.

“That’s understandable,” he says, and takes a seat himself. “I hate that you don’t trust me. But I can’t fault you for it. So much has happened that you haven’t been made aware of. But perhaps if you know more . . . well, then maybe I could earn your trust.”

I’m not sure what the best move is here. So I stand firm, hand gripped on my scythe, and give him a slow nod. He’s cleaned the blood from his face, but that doesn’t mean I trust him. Playing along until I can find a way of escape seems to be the best course.

“I know you have trusted my brother for a long time, that you’ve been trained together.”

“ ‘Trust’ is a strong word.”