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“After that—” he takes my earlobe into his mouth and nips softly “—everything changes.”

A long while later, I’m lying in my bed with Sienna snuggled next to me—our final sleepover before I move into Thornecroft tomorrow. My roommate, Della, snores across the room.

Della accepted the news I was temporarily moving out with hardly a blink. It’s not like we’re close, and my being out of this room will mean she can have her boyfriend sleep over.

But Sienna is another matter entirely. Even now, I feel the tension radiating from her. She’s not sleeping. I can tell by her breathing.

“Are you mad at me?” I whisper into the dark.

Her body stiffens. “Of course not.”

I swallow. “I broke my promise.”

She’s quiet for a long time. Then she says softly, “I think you’re not telling me the whole story. You don’t take your promises lightly.”

My stomach twists. She’s right. I haven’t told her about the threat on Rhett’s life. Or about the interrogation. I haven’t told her anything that might truly explain how deep I am in this.

“Sienna, there’s another promise I wish I had broken.”

She lets out a little gasp. I think she knows where I’m going with this.

“I should have told my dad years ago,” I whisper. “I think he could’ve done something.”

“What—” Apparently realizing her voice is too loud, she pauses and lowers it. “What on earth could he have done? Kidnap me? No. He would have tried to do something—and failed—and then it would have been hell for me at home.”

My chest squeezes. These words used to terrify me as a child, and then as a teenager. Things really were hell for her after that CPS call, but…

I still think she’s wrong. I know my dad. He could have done something.

And I was a silly little girl who thought desperate pleas to God whispered into the dark were as impactful as action.

Never again. I won’t let someone I love slip through the cracks because I was too scared to make noise. Rhett’s in trouble. And I’m not going to pray about it. I’m going to do something.

12

Ava

I follow the pretty woman through the castle, my brain buzzing.

When I got home after my Music Appreciation class, a driver was already waiting outside the dorms. He seemed fearful of being late—and with a boss like Damian, I can’t blame him—so I had to scramble to get my things. I was told by the driver to only take one bag—containing essentials—because Thornecroft would be providing me with a wardrobe.

Insanity. The wealth of these people is unfathomable. But perhaps nothing should surprise me after everything that’s happened this week.

When I got to the castle, I was brought to a woman referred to as High Consort. Her name is Coraline, and she doesn’t seem to like me very much.

“You’ll need to dress up more than this,” she says, her gaze fixed on the worn fabric of my backpack. “I’ll order your clothes. Just give me your size.”

I frown. “I prefer to pick out my own clothes. I could always go to the shopping center in?—”

“No. You can’t leave. Only for classes. You’ll need to print out your schedule for me.”

Isolating members from their loved ones. Very cultish.

Or very pretend cult. But even if this is all a game, that doesn’t mean it’s safe. Plenty of people have died playing with fire. And as long as Damian is threatening Rhett’s life, I have to take it all seriously.

Coraline leads me down a long hall. The low murmur of distant voices weaves through the walls. We pass a line of open doors where a group of girls linger, their chatter and laughter dying as we approach. Several eyes flick from Coraline to me.

“Ladies,” Coraline says, stopping at a doorway. “This is the lord regent’s new personal servant, Ava.”