Page 37

T he Thread wasn’t just inside me, it was becoming me now. It wove through my mind like smoke, curling through every thought, every breath, until I could no longer tell where it ended and I began. Until I wasn’t sure there had ever been a before, only this moment, only him. Only Dante.

I clenched my fists, nails biting deep, grounding myself in the sting of skin breaking. The scent of iron bloomed in my senses, vivid and metallic, but it wasn’t enough to drown him out.

I blinked hard, forcing my focus forward.

Across the raised octagon of the sparring ring, Dorian stood as still as death, the dagger in his hand gleaming in the afternoon sun.

Neither of us moved. This was worse than the javelins.

I hadn’t even held a real blade until I got here.

At school, my electives had included stage combat and dramatic monologues, not bloodsport.

But Evermore took conditioning seriously, like we were prepping for something. If things got too deadly, the professor was supposed to intervene. Supposed to.

My body didn’t seem convinced. It still reacted like death was a real possibility. The gossip that I was the reason our scores had plummeted spread like wildfire, and not even Ruby could convince them otherwise. So maybe it was.

Dorian sighed like he was waiting for something. “You’re distracted,” he murmured. “Thinking about the Dawning Ball, later? Need a date?”

“No.” I forced my grip tighter around the hilt of my dagger. “I’m focused. I swear.”

Dorian tilted his head, eyes gleaming like cut glass. His lips twitched. “ Good .” He lunged.

I barely had time to deflect. The clash of steel sent a shudder up my arms, nearly knocking me off balance. I staggered, but Dorian was already moving. His next strike was aimed at my ribs.

I twisted at the last second, using his momentum against him. My dagger scraped against his as I darted beneath his arm. I was fast, but Dorian was faster. He caught my wrist before I could fully break away, yanking me back into his chest.

The breath knocked out of me, and the training ring blurred. His blade pressed lightly against my throat, not enough to hurt, but enough to remind me that I’d lost.

Dorian let out a low hum. “Sloppy.”

I swallowed. “I lasted longer than last time.”

“Mm. Barely.”

I didn’t realize how close we were until I felt the heat of his breath against my cheek. I turned my head slightly, but that only brought us closer. A single strand of his dark hair fell across his brow, his eyes drifting, flicking to my lips.

The Thread curled through my skull again. “ Not him .” I stiffened, sending a mental thought back.

“Get out of my mind, monster.”

Dorian’s grip faltered for half a second, just enough for me to twist free. I shoved away from him, breathing heavily. He arched a brow. “Cheap trick. ”

“You’re the one who got distracted,” I shot back.

His lip curled. “I don’t get distracted, Davenant.”

“Liar.” I went to pick up my dagger, but before I could straighten, a low murmur rippled through the crowd. I froze. The Thread curled tighter, whispers pressing against the base of my skull. “ Kill him if you have to. ”

I turned slowly as the students parted. And there, Hugo stood at the edge of the training grounds.

His uniform was pristine, not a single wrinkle or stain.

I sent a silent prayer to whoever might be listening that he wouldn’t approach the sparring ring again, not while I still had one round left to go.

Not when he’d come close to killing me with a javelin. Please no.

I stepped forward before I could stop myself. “Hugo?”

He tilted his head. Slow. Almost… curious. The corner of his mouth twisted into a smirk. Dorian’s fingers curled around my wrist in warning.

Hugo moved first, faster than I could react. One moment, he was standing across the ring. The next, his hand was wrapped around my throat, slamming me backward against the nearest pillar. The force of it cracked through my ribs, the cold stone biting into my spine.

A chorus of gasps rang through the crowd, but no one moved. No one dared. I clawed at his wrist, gasping for air, trying to understand.

“Hugo,” I choked, grappling for anything that would make him stop. I was defenceless. “It’s me .”

His fingers trembled, a fleeting hesitation in his grip.

And in that sliver of a moment, I saw the horror within his abyssal eyes.

The boy I cared so deeply for. The boy who was now undone, splintered into something unrecognizable.

His lips parted soundlessly, as if he were trying to speak, to claw his way back from whatever darkness had claimed him .

I caught a flicker of gold burning behind his pupils. “I know who you are,” he whispered.

Silver flashed in a blur. A second hand moved, too fast to track, and a biting force drove low into my gut.

I stared at him, confused. For a heartbeat, I felt nothing. Just the eerie, weightless silence of a body catching up to the pain. Then it arrived, brutal and blooming. White-hot, then ice-cold, sinking deep, stealing warmth and swallowing all thought.

I gasped. The sound was small, lost beneath the deafening chaos that erupted around me, but all I could hear was my shallow heartbeat, its stutter uneven like my survival was clinging to a thread.

Hugo’s hand was still at my throat, anchoring that crushing pressure. Something flickered behind that cruel smile, a blankness too deep to be human. The Thread ghosted through my mind. “ Kill him NOW. Kill him or I will.”

Dorian tore Hugo away from me, his grip still on the blade, and I let out a scream as it tore from the wound. Warmth spread, slippery blood spilling between my fingers. I barely registered what happened next. I barely saw how Dorian’s expression twisted. It was all so fast.

Dorian’s fingers curled around Hugo’s skull. I watched through blurred vision. Then came the crack as Hugo’s head twisted, the movement so quick it barely registered until Dorian’s sharp teeth carved into his neck.

A scream ripped from my throat. Hugo crumpled, his body hitting the ground, limp and unmoving.

The world twisted, blurring, all color fading to smudges of gray. My fingers curled against the floor clawing at something, anything.

I didn’t realize I was trembling until Dorian knelt before me. His hands hovered over mine, but he didn’t touch me. He didn’t dare. “Breathe, Davenant.” He ripped at his sparring shirt, hands brushing beneath me as something tightened over the wound. I let out another gasp.

“Hugo,” I gasped. “He—he?—”

“I know.”

I drank in a broken breath. Dorian’s voice was calm, steady, the only thing I could anchor myself to as he turned to call for a medic.

None of this made sense. Hugo had tried to kill me.

Dorian had killed him. Dorian had killed him.

When he turned back to me, my gaze snapped to his, fury and grief burning through me.

I didn’t know if I was grateful or furious.

All I knew was that Hugo was dead, and the boy kneeling before me was the reason.

“You!” I threw fists blindly. “What did you do?”

Professor Esmerelda, the on-site medic, raced toward Hugo’s body. She seemed to be checking for a pulse. My vision was fading to black.

But I saw Dorian’s lower lip twitch as his hands pressed firmly over my wound. The sparring ring came in flashes of darkness, the ringing in my ears too loud.

I hardly registered the second pair of hands gliding over me, the sharp scent of formaldehyde in my nose.

“Go to the head office, Dorian!” Professor Esmerelda roared, her voice distant. “ Now!” She bent over me, pouring something—a tonic—over the wound. It sluiced through me, knitting muscle but not pain.

Dorian didn’t say anything, but lingered for a moment like he wanted to stay. I felt a pull in my chest as he walked away, like I wanted him to, even if it didn’t make any sense. He’d just killed Hugo. He’d just killed Hugo with his bare hands. For me.

“Just keep breathing, Arabella,” Esmerelda said. Just keep breathing, like I hadn’t watched Hugo’s neck crack in front of me .

“She’ll resurrect him right?” I mumbled, the words spilling out too slow. “Verrine will bring him back. Right this time.”

“No, darling,” Esmerelda’s voice cracked as she blotted the wound with gauze. “You can’t bring someone back more than once.”

The words shattered deep within me, splintering deep and aching. I couldn’t scream, couldn’t breathe. All I could do was grieve the boy who was gone, and hate the one who saved me.

The tears came fast, spilling down my cheeks and pooling in the corner of my mouth. When I parted my lips to speak no words came, only the taste of brine on my tongue.

The Thread’s voice curled through me, all too sickeningly familiar. Dante’s voice. “Someone had to do it. He wanted you dead.”