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Back then, I never thought that I would be in the situation I am now.
I refuse to lose to their barbaric law.
“It’s in both of our best interests to iron this out quickly,” I say. There’s a twinge of impatience behind my words. Though it’s a delicate situation, I don’t want the Chancellor to get the impression that I’m capitulating.
This is a negotiation.
“Is that so?” he says.
The shark-like grin returns and his eyes linger on Alize for longer than I like. My blood warms, spreading heat along the back of my neck. I squeeze the armrest, wishing it was his neck.
“Yes,” I continue. “Her death would not bode well for the University.” I try to keep my tone measured, though I’m sure he knows it’s a threat.
He clicks his tongue. “The Treaty of Peace is an important part of Saint Frederic University’s foundation, Mr. Duke. To my knowledge, Miss Moreau has broken the Treaty. It’s an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. She has put every single student here at risk by falsifying her identity. Her death will right the balance of things.”
Alize’s body tenses beneath my fingers, and the shaking in her leg is back. I run my hand along her knee lightly, hoping it soothes her, even as my own temper flares.
How fucking dare he talk about her like that?
Discussing her death so casually, as if she isn’t in the room. As if killing her wouldn’t be the same as killing me. As if the world would ever be the same without her.
As if I wouldn’t sooner kill him than let that happen.
I grit my teeth, swallowing the curses on my tongue. I need to think clearly—I can’t let my anger make me botch this situation. I can’t make this mistake too.
I’ve already let her down once.
The Chancellor continues speaking. “If we let this go, Mr. Duke, it will set the wrong precedent. It would mean that our prestigious University has become a free-for-all, not the haven for the elite that our founders intended for it to be.”
My throat is thick. “The Treaty was written hundreds of years ago, Dr. Martin,” I say. “Surely you can understand that things are not the same now as they were then.”
He scoffs, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the desk. His eyebrows lower, his eyes turning into shards of obsidian. “What are you suggesting, Mr. Duke? That we abandon the very core of the school’s existence for your whore?”
I bite down so hard I’m surprised my molars don’t crack.
All the anger, all the hatred, all the maddening fury I’ve been trying to keep at bay for the past two days rushes forth, and I’m ready to combust. The weight of my gun in my waistband is a tempting reminder of what I could do to him. He would be dead before the guards could burst in. I should teach him what happens to people who disrespect Alize.
And I would, if Alize weren’t here.
She wouldn’t want me to kill him, no matter what he’s said about her. She’s long-suffering like that. Kind, tries to see the best in people. She begged me not to kill Keller that night at the party, even though he deserved it.
“I would appreciate it if we kept this conversation respectful,” I say through gritted teeth. “If we throw formalities out the window, this might end up a pyrrhic victory for you.”
The Chancellor laughs, his throaty voice filling the room. It’s jarring, like biting into a metal spoon. It’s as if he’s doing everything in his power to see me lose control.
“Is that so, Mr. Duke?”
I nod. “Let’s stay on task,” I say. “Alize did not break the ethos of the Peace Treaty, as the founders of our grand school only included it to cement the idea of equal exchange. It was important to them that everyone had something to lose—and Alize did have that. Falsifying her identity was intended to protect her from danger.”
“Danger? What danger, Mr. Duke?” The Chancellor’s eyes narrow. “The Peace Treaty was created to be a deterrent to people like Miss Moreau. Do you know what a risk it is to have her here, privy to the secrets these walls hold? She’s unconnected, and—”
“She isn’t unconnected,” I cut in.
Alize’s eyes are fixed on me now. Can she tell where I’m going with this? The story she told me about her reason for lying to come here isn’t mine to tell. Frankly, telling someone like him could make it an even bigger risk for her—the news of her identity has probably left the school already.
Whoever is looking for her will soon know she’s here, if they don’t already.
“Oh, but she is!” the Chancellor snaps. His skin is red, the veins in his forehead bulging. “Our team ran extensive background checks. There is nothing that connects her to our world. Aside from a heavily redacted birth certificate and a passport, Alize Moreau doesn’t exist—no family, nothing. She’s a fucking French orphan, but you want me to believe she belongs here, among us? Obviously, someone went out of their way to make her untraceable.”
