Page 33

“ S ilence. Silence!” Verrine’s voice struck through the murmurs in Ariel Hall viper-quick. Wooden benches creaked as students jolted upright, knuckles whitening on the rails.

I scanned the assembly, my heartbeat skittering. The flickering candlelight stretched long, eerie shadows over the pale, exhausted faces around me. Most of the students looked like they hadn’t slept.

I didn’t blame them. A muffled sob floated from the Ophanim House pews and someone hissed for silence. Above me and to my right a few Upper Sixth Seraphim’s were glaring. “Word is Cavendish caught her red-handed,” one whispered. I faced forward and pretended not to hear. “This is all her fault.”

I tasted cotton. I wasn’t sure which “her” they meant anymore, me or my mother. Either way, the guilt and shame were mine.

I fought the urge to reach for my slate, but it was pointless.

They’d been confiscated before the assembly.

They didn’t want us tracking the damage.

We had been informed as we arrived that lessons were cancelled for the rest of the day, and cold relief washed over me at the thought that I wouldn’t have to return to the sparring ring again.

There was just this, this gathering of the damned.

A cold weight settled against my collarbone. My fingers twitched, aching to reach for the pendant hidden beneath my uniform, but I resisted. Had it always felt this heavy? I had never questioned it before, never thought twice about how it fit.

My mother had fled Evermore before she could take the Rift. Hugo seemed to think there was something off about me because of her. I still hadn’t figured out what she was running from.

I shifted uneasily, my gaze darting toward the stage where the professors stood.

Godwin looked unnervingly pale, his usually pristine handlebar mustache unkempt, his collar slightly askew.

Next to him, Verrine stood tall, composed, smiling.

Dorian stood beside her, arms crossed, his face stark.

Our eyes met for a split second. He looked away first.

Professor Esmerelda glided forward, lavender robes wilting at the hem. “You are not in danger,” she said, though her voice quavered. “None of you will be forced to meet the Rift while your scores are unfairly represented, whether you were to be marked or to graduate.”

A ripple of relief swept through the hall from both the Lower and Upper Sixth. I knew it was too fragile, too convenient. It shattered in a heartbeat.

“No.” Verrine stepped forward, shoving past Esmerelda. “We cannot promise that.”

Esmerelda’s mouth opened, probably to protest, but Verrine silenced her with a single cutting glance. A hush blanketed the room once more. She scanned the crowd, reading the alarmed expressions like a bird of prey. I locked eyes with Dorian again, and too quickly he looked away.

Verrine continued. “You deserve the truth,” she said smoothly. “We cannot promise that the Rift will not move forward. The Rift is law. The Rift is order. The Rift is your ultimate fate.”

The panic that had been held at bay exploded. Chatter erupted, students rising from their pews.

“This is bullshit!” Oliver Vance from House Seraphim sprang up.

“My ether sat at 1,200! Now it’s -41. How is that fate?

” His slicked-back hair gleamed beneath the chandeliers, making his waxen face look even paler.

“Now I’m set to become some wandering wraith in Elsewhere for eternity? Or worse, actually die?”

Verrine’s smile thinned. “Perhaps you’ll consider Elsewhere’s officer-training corps, Mr Vance.”

“This isn’t fair!” Lilibeth squeaked, rising.

Murmurs turned to shouting. Fear twisted into something wild and uncontrolled as it circled the room.

For Verrine, that would not do. She clicked her tongue, then raised a single hand.

The weight of her authority simmered the noise.

“Now, now,” she said in that mockingly patient tone of hers.

“Evermore has and always will be a middle ground. A bridge between realms. Some of you feel entitled to the After because your parents or ancestors reside there.” Her cold stare swept the room, daring anyone to speak.

“But I urge you to reconsider your perspective.”

A slate that had evaded confiscation pinged from somewhere in the gallery, the single note slicing the hush before dying away. A candle guttered overhead, like the entire hall seemed to inhale at once.

“Reconsider how?” Lilibeth murmured to herself, her hands steepled in prayer.

“There is no need to fear,” Verrine murmured, voice too saccharine.

“Elsewhere is not a prison. It is a bridge, it is an opportunity. It contains the finest institutions and the most desirable militaristic positions. The powerful do not just Ascend, my dear students. They make the best of the path their fate has carved out for them.” She narrowed her eyes on mine. “Whichever direction it flows.”

This was a sales pitch. She was giving us a sales pitch for daemonhood. She wanted us to see Elsewhere as an honor. It was almost convincing. Almost. That was what scared me most, that some part of me wanted to believe that becoming a Daemon wouldn’t be so bad.

“You’re kidding,” I hissed. “She can’t expect us to believe that. Can you imagine her living in Elsewhere?”

Lilibeth stroked the ends of her long braids nervously. “But she’s a Daemon, Arabella.”

My breath stilled. “What?” The chapel floor might have lurched beneath me. Suddenly all the strangeness I’d sensed in Verrine snapped into focus like a painting turned right-side up.

“Not widely known,” Lilibeth whispered. “But Verrine is a High Daemon of the Nephilim stratum. A Headmistress is supposed to be neutral, but between you and me…” Lilibeth’s lips curled.

“She’s anything but. You’d think she makes effing commission.

” I’d never heard Lilibeth swear, or come close to it.

I had assumed Verrine’s power began and ended with Evermore. That she was simply a headmistress, a gatekeeper between realms. I was wrong. I studied Godwin. His usual warmth was gone, his features taut. An Angel married to a Daemon.

Verrine’s speech continued. “Some of you will be chosen to lead. Not just survive, but rise . The Archdemon Committee offers more than judgment. They offer scholarships. Patronage. Power. And a select few of you will be invited to join the council’s junior cohort, if you prove yourselves worthy.

” She smiled thinly. “Something to consider, in the wake of all of this.”

“How does an Angel fall in love with a High Daemon?” I hissed, making no effort to hide my horror as I watched Verrine. It was like seeing her with new eyes, unmasked. It all made perfect sense.

Lilibeth smirked. “Who said anything about love?”

A chill crawled over my skin.

“And Godwin?” I pushed.

“Look at him,” Lilibeth murmured. “He hates this. It’s tearing him apart. I wouldn’t be surprised if he makes the Fall himself by the end of the year.”

I stiffened. “That’s possible?”

“An Angel can always Fall,” she whispered. “But once Fallen, you can never Ascend. The only way is down.”

“I once believed in the After too,” Verrine’s voice carried. For a moment, her voice trembled, emotion peeking through the cracks. “But belief is a luxury, and Evermore is not a place for luxuries. It is a place for action.”

“And Verrine?” I whispered, my eyes still fixed on her speech. “She’d allow that, allow a teacher to become…what, a Fallen Angel?”

“She would want nothing more.” Lilibeth leaned in. “Between you and me, she has an obsession with them, Fallen Angels.”

“Why?”

“You tell me. Come on. Haven’t you noticed the focus on it in our curriculum, this year?” Lilibeth made a face. “It’s a taboo. It’s suspect.”

A ripple of ice slid down my spine. I hadn’t.

Before I could respond, Verrine clapped her hands, coldness returning. “As I was saying,” she barked. “In lieu of the Archangel Committee being present to sign off on moving the Rift, the Archdemon Committee will be visiting to execute the order instead.”

At last Marcus spoke, clearing his throat before he said, “ But Headmistress, that goes against the entire purpose of having two High Councils! They exist to avoid bias. Of course they’d love to double their numbers.”

“Well,” Verrine’s smile widened. “Fate has a funny way of working things out.” A murmur of unease spread like wildfire.

“But it is never wrong. Until the council arrives, I implore you to resume classes as normal. And before you consider acting out, remember.” Her gaze swept the room, calculating.

“You may very well upset your future leaders.”

The silence that followed was absolute. This wasn’t a warning anymore, it was a sentencing.