Page 16

He might have continued speaking, explaining, but the only sound was the rush of blood in my ears, the thump of my heart as the beats slowed.

Half the soul. In a month, when I took the Rift, it would take half of my soul.

My fingers curled against the desk. I couldn’t feel them.

The slate in front of me still blinked with my score, seventy-four.

Around me, the class listened attentively, like we weren’t all walking expiration dates.

“They say anyone under 100 by the Rift is already dead,” Oscar said, spinning around from his seat in front of me. He twisted against the back of the chair to crack his back as I grimaced.

“Pick your jaw up, Davenant,” Dorian whispered, his lip curled. “All of this is in the brochure. Didn’t you read it before you arrived?”

I shot him a merciless look. “What if you want to opt out?” I asked, interrupting Godwin. Again, every head turned in my direction. I had asked Verrine the same question. She had dodged it. Now, the room fell silent. Dante side-eyed me, a look that said I-already-told-you.

Godwin shifted, visibly uncomfortable. “Miss Davenant, Evermore’s students go on to the most prestigious institutions in the afterlife. It is a privilege.”

“Professor, I asked if I could opt out.”

“Gosh.” Godwin’s smile was strained, cheeks puffing. “Did Headmistress Cavendish not explain this to you? We received your paperwork, the contract was signed…” The air buzzed. “You see—once enrolled, you can’t leave Evermore.”

My stomach dropped. It was true. There was no way out of Evermore. I hadn’t just been enrolled. I’d been imprisoned. “Not ever?”

“Ever,” Dante said under his breath.

The words echoed, then hollowed out inside me. Not ever. I thought of the executor. The contract I’d signed. Headmistress Cavendish smiling. All of it replayed now like a trap door snapping shut behind me. I’d been tricked. I wasn’t here by choice, and I wasn’t allowed to leave.

“But to clarify,” I demanded. “If we don’t get a place, we return home, right? Like Mabel?”

“I’m terribly sorry.” Godwin’s poor attempt at a smile faltered, his face turning even more puce. “I’m afraid not, Miss Davenant.”

The slate in my hands vibrated. A message flashed across the screen.

Ether status: Pending. Score recalculating.

“Sir.” I stood. This couldn’t be right. None of this made sense. “There’s been a misunderstanding, please listen.”

Godwin muttered something I couldn’t make out, taking a seat at his desk. The conversation was over. I slid back into my seat, exchanging a look with Dante. He smirked, reclining. I’d need his help after all.

I twisted at the sound of a sickening thud.

A crow slammed into the window, the impact violent enough to send a shockwave through the silent room. Its body crumpled against the glass, wings splayed, before it vanished into the wind.

The hush that followed was absolute. I stared at the faint smear of blood it left, dark red, like a final warning. The slate felt heavier in my hands. I wanted to throw it across the room. Instead, I shoved it into my bag forcefully, like breaking it would get me out of here.

Godwin’s handlebar mustache twitched, his chest pluming. “I’m dismissing you all early.” He gestured toward the door, smoothing his wiry hair back. “Use the time well.”

I wasn’t spiritual but that seemed like a bad omen. The slate in my hands dimmed as I shoved it into my bag. I reached for my blazer sleeve and pressed it hard to my mouth to stifle the scream that desperately wanted out.

After class Dante lounged against the stone pillar like his parents ran Evermore, not Dorian’s.

The corridor outside felt colder. The marble floor swallowed the sound of my footsteps as I walked in a daze, the words “ not ever” still echoing in my mind.

I brushed past a pair of students whispering about something under their breath.

I caught only two words. Archangels missing.

I smoothed the strand of hair that kept spilling in front of my face, pretending I didn’t feel like my heart had dropped low into my stomach. I hated how effortlessly terrifying Dante was. I had the same feeling when I’d looked through a telescope once, and seen Saturn’s rings.

“We still on for tonight?” He ran a hand through his jet-black hair, eyes shadowed.

“Tonight?”

Hugo caught my eye from across the corridor.

He smiled softly. It was an utterly ridiculous time to notice the way his smile settled something in me, but just for a second, the panic subsided.

His eyes lingered longer than they needed to before he was swallowed by the tide of students.

I caught myself smiling back, a stupid half-grin lingering long after he’d gone .

Dante snickered. “Bailing you out. Don’t tell me you’ve come to like it here.” He reached in his pocket for a packet and rolling papers and began winding a cigarette together. “I thought that whole death speech freaked you out.”

“No, no. I do want out,” I whispered tersely.

“I just don’t know if…” I trailed off, teeth sinking into my lip.

Because the truth was, I did want out. I wanted it so badly I could taste it.

But the deeper I sank into Evermore, the more impossible it felt.

Evermore had already begun to swallow me whole.

I didn’t want to drown here, but I was already starting to forget how it felt to breathe.

“If what?” Dante’s voice dropped, a shift in the current. His fingers brushed my wrist lightly, and I felt a jolt of something down my arm that sparked something low inside of me. I had made the decision to leave Evermore, and there was no clear way to do that other than expulsion.

Did I want out badly enough to take his hand? Every cell in my body screamed yes, but a thread of trepidation wove through my mind. I flicked a glance toward the students chattering down the corridor, a white-robed professor sweeping past them in a hush of silk.

“If I fail. If it doesn’t work. I don’t know what will happen to me.” My voice came out sharper than I intended, and I lowered it as a group of students from Seraphim House drifted past us.

Dante scoffed. “You don’t have to worry about that. It will work. Besides, you have nothing to lose. With a score like that this late into term, you’re dead weight.”

“I know.” I nodded, but my tone wasn’t convincing.

He exhaled, and something cold and knowing crept into his smirk. “Oh, I see.” The shift in his voice was so subtle I almost missed it. “You like someone, don’t you?”

My silence betrayed me. I hated how easily he’d seen through me, how obvious my hesitation must’ve looked. I stiffened. “No.”

“Let me tell you something,” he murmured, leaning in, his voice dipping low, dripping with dangerous unamusement. “Someone like Hugo? His path is already decided. He’s a favorite, you see.”

I swallowed, my throat tightening. “What does that mean?”

“It means,” Dante continued, his voice like velvet stretched thin, “he’s a soon-to-be Nephilim.

His spot at graduation is all but guaranteed.

” The pause sliced through me. “But you? Surely, you’ve heard the whispers.

Look at your score, Arabella. You are average.

Unremarkable. And if you stay here, you will not only die—” His head tilted lazily. “You will be forgotten.”

The words sank like a hook into my heart. I knew that. I’d always known that. I wasn’t the smartest or the strongest. But hearing it said aloud, in a place that demanded excellence just to survive, cut deeper than it should have. Would anyone remember me if I didn’t make it?

“I’m not an idiot. I don’t want to stay. It’s just—” I glanced over my shoulder. “Are you sure this will work?”

Dante’s expression didn’t flicker. He reached into his pocket, fingers curling around the smooth metal of a lighter. The small click echoed. The flickering glow carved shadows around his jaw, a wicked gleam reflected in his eyes. “I’m sure. I know exactly what will get you expelled.”

My heart thudded. This was it, my lifeline. I could leave. It just required placing my trust in the most terrifying person I’d met at Evermore, including Dorian.

“Good.” I straightened my spine. I was out of choices. “I’ll see you tonight.”

Dante watched me for a long moment, like he was trying to figure something out. Then, he nodded. “Midnight. Outside Cherubim House, near Ariel Hall.” He turned, but before he disappeared into the low light, he hesitated, flicking the butt of his cigarette to the floor. “And Arabella?”

“Yes?” I stilled.

“Don’t change your mind.” His voice was quieter this time, certain. “You're too good to die this young.”

For a heartbeat, I let myself believe him, just long enough to remember what hope felt like. It didn’t matter if he meant it. It felt good to hear someone say it, even if it was a lie.