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I pace the length of the drawing room for what must be the hundredth time, each turn sharper than the last. “She’s being impossible.”

Lucy sucks in her lips as if she’s fighting a smile, which makes me quicken my pace. Asher lifts a brow. “She’s not impossible. You’re just obsessed with her.

I stop and glare at him, wanting to remind him that she’s the vessel through which I’ll sanctify my power. But I can’t say anything about that in the drawing room. And certainly not in front of Lucy. She knows so little about The Four Hundred. She thinks it’s a sort of club for the extremely wealthy. A club that somehow owns one of the most prestigious universities in the United States.

She must be in denial.

“What happened between you guys?” Lucy asks. “Ava’s been a little distant lately.”

Distant.

The understatement of the millennium. I can’t believe Ava snapped back into her listlessness so quickly after I made her come.

Have I truly crushed her spirit?

No. She’s just being stubborn. I saw it in her eyes today. She chose to return to her existential despair. That should comfort me.

It doesn’t.

If I’m really going to go through with this—if I’m going to scheme to get the Sacred Light on my side, to get him to bend rules of Four Hundred doctrine, maybe even make threats to get him to do it—I need to win her over. I can’t keep fighting her forever.

But then what?

Even if I manage the impossible and get permission to keep her, what would it look like? What the hell do I even want from her once she’s mine for good?

I can’t think about this now. I have to get her out of this funk. But how?

I turn to Lucy. “She’s angry with me. I need to get back in her good graces. What do you think I should do?”

Lucy blinks, clearly startled by the question. I’ve never asked her for advice about women. I’ve never cared about anyone enough to ask. The thought should alarm me, but I’m too desperate to care.

Asher lets out a bark of laughter. “God, you’re pathetic. If I had a death wish, I’d take a picture of you right now.”

My gaze stays fixed on Lucy. She shifts on the couch. “I don’t know her well enough to give you advice. Maybe talk to one of her friends.”

The idea clicks into place, sharp and immediate.

Not Rhett. I’m too raw right now to trust myself with him. Asking him for help with Ava would be an admission that he still means more to her than I do. He’s still breathing, and that alone feels like restraint. But Sienna…

Yes. I know exactly what to do.

24

Ava

After three days of avoiding Damian, one thing has become abundantly clear: I need my phone back.

I’m losing myself in this isolation, and it’s getting worse each day. Sure, I’ve been able to send texts at night, but always with Hunter watching. I’ve seen Sienna a handful of times, but only on my supervised walks to campus.

After what happened in Damian’s bathroom, I’ve barely slept. Every time I close my eyes, I feel his hands on me again, and worse—I want them there. How can I still want someone I’m terrified of?

And yet something has shifted. Maybe it’s the shock wearing off, or maybe it’s Stockholm Syndrome—either way, I’m thoroughly ashamed of myself. I’ve been wallowing in self-pity because I saw something horrific. But why did I have to make it all about me? Kane is the one who was hurt. And despite everything, I find myself starting to believe Damian when he says he’s not going to hurt me. He’s held a knife in front of mebefore, and he’s never so much as nicked my skin. I’m starting to wonder if he was ever even going to really hurt Rhett.

Then why are you still here, Ava? Why not walk out that castle door, and never come back?

The question haunts me more each day, and I can’t answer it now.

When I step into Damian’s office, I don’t announce myself. Instead, I hover near the doorframe, half hidden by the wall.