Page 42

T he halls of Evermore had changed. Gone were the murmurs of gossip and ether scores. Instead, an oppressive silence swallowed the corridors, punctuated only by the rhythmic footsteps of the guards.

They stood at every archway, clad in blackened steel, their faces obscured beneath polished helmets. No one spoke above a whisper. After what happened to Ruby, I knew silence wasn’t safety, but an unspoken warning.

I walked with my head buried in my slate. I’d been messaging Godwin about the cards, told him I’d only managed to secure one. He’d been positive, urging me to keep trying.

I took the staircase into the western courtyard.

I had to help Ruby, somehow. I imagined Verrine tampering with the Crucible again, dropping her score, forcing her to become a High Daemon like herself, the very thing Ruby always feared.

Or settling it close to zero, making her chances of surviving the Rift unlikely. I shuddered.

The morning fog clung to the air, thick and damp, curling between the statues of the Archangels. Their once-pristine stone wings had been defaced, carved with rhunes .

I barely made it three steps before a voice slashed the cold.

“Miss Davenant.” The weight of the name nearly buckled my knees.

Slowly, I turned. The helmet obscured most of his face, but through the narrow slit, I could see the faint gleam of his sharpened teeth. Not an Archdaemon, a High Daemon guard.

A second guard stepped forward, his presence colder, heavier. He said, “You were seen defacing school property.”

I frowned. “That’s a lie.”

The students near me stopped moving. The courtyard froze. No one had dared talk back to a guard since Ruby’s episode with Verrine.

The second guard exhaled slowly, like he was dealing with a child. “Look at the evidence,” he said, gesturing to the rhunes.

“What evidence ?” I kept my voice steady, my hands curled into tight fists. “I didn’t do that. I didn’t do anything.”

His lips curled, like he was enjoying this. “We saw you.”

“Then those narrow eyes of yours must make you blind,” I snarled. Whoops. I couldn’t control my tongue. “I don’t even know how to carve a rhune.”

“Two witnesses against one.” The first guard stepped forward, clicking his tongue. “If it were up to me, I’d rip your throat out. But we have orders not to harm you.”

“Great.” I set my jaw, shouldering past. “I have to get to sparring now, so if you don’t mind?—”

The gloved hand of the first guard clamped down on my shoulder. “All classes are canceled. A ceremony is taking place instead. Make your way to the Sanctum of the Seraphim.”

“Sanctum of the what? I’ve never heard of it.” I frowned, looking over the grounds. I clicked open my slate, navigating to the page that held the campus map. I couldn’t see it. “Where is that, exactly? What ceremony?”

But the Daemons had already turned around, a chisel poking out of the narrow-eyed one’s back pocket. Damn liars. I followed the milling crowd of students, my head bobbing above the crowd.

“Keep calm, Davenant.” Dorian appeared at my side, his hand guiding the small of my back as the sea of pupils wove toward the chapel. “It’s rare we use the Sanctum. Something big is coming.”

“Like what, the Rift?” My heart leapt into my throat. “It’s not Sunday. Surely they can’t do this to us!”

“I don’t know,” Dorian’s voice cracked. He looked pale, deep shadows beneath his eyes.

We filed through the chapel doors and then through doors behind the Crucible, the ones I thought led to Verrine’s office.

But we carried on beyond them, down a torch-lit stone staircase and into the underbelly of Evermore.

We filed into the room, a vast marble chamber carved into the earth itself, so dark and echoing it felt as if we’d crossed into the college’s infernal heart.

Light from black stained-glass panels above fractured and painted the marble floors.

Nausea climbed up my throat. I should have left, should have slipped out and hidden somewhere.

Now I was trapped, bodies pressing close as we slid onto the end of a black marble pew, professors not bothering to group us into our houses.

Every whisper stilled as Verrine stepped onto the dais. A tightness bloomed in the hollow of my chest. A throne carved of black stone towered behind her, veined with glints of blue and purple where the light caught it. A throne? Beneath Evermore?

Verrine was dressed differently today, a pin with a crescent moon at her chest, her lips painted dark red. The air turned leaden, and Dorian’s fingers brushed my hand gently.

“What the hell is this?” I hissed.

“Just keep your head down and your mouth shut,” Dorian whispered back, his gaze fixed ahead.

Verrine’s voice rang out. “For the last one-hundred years, the balance at Evermore has not been respected. This institution always favored the light. It pushed students toward the After, treating Elsewhere as a compromise. No longer.”

The double doors creaked. A ripple ran through the room, anxious murmurs.

Dante Darkblood strode into the Sanctum, shadow trailing him like a mantle.

His hair was black as spilled ink, as was his suit, a silver thread stitched into the breast pocket.

Guards flanked him, Daemons, moving in perfect rhythm.

He paused in the threshold of the dais, gaze raking over the room. The students closest to him craned their necks to watch, compelled. Their faces contorted, a mixture of fear and respect.

But Verrine’s eyes glittered. She raised her hand in welcome. “For too long, you have been told there is only one future worth having. But today—” Her attention moved to Dante, her smile cutting. “Today, Evermore remembers its true history.”

A hush fell, deeper than typical silence. Dante stepped forward, unhurried, his eyes catching mine for a single, burning instant. My lungs screamed for air. I had to look away, but couldn’t. He folded his hands behind his back, and inclined his head.

Dante’s voice rang through the Sanctum. “Indeed. Evermore was founded by High Daemons centuries ago, it was built as a war college. A place where students were trained not to fear the Rift, not to fear Elsewhere, but to fight for it. We’ve lost our way.”

“We are here to see Evermore returns to its former glory.” Verrine nodded, deferent. They were working together. Verrine and Dante…all this time.

Dante’s eyes found mine through the throng.

For a split-second, everything else fell away—the crowd, candles, even Verrine’s wicked smile.

His words, when they returned, felt like they were meant for me.

“There is only one way forward now. Evermore must remember what it is. I am here to see it done.”

Verrine glided to his side. Her hand brushed against his back, a cruel smile curling her lips.

She turned to the crowd, a swell in her chest. “While the High King is away, Evermore will answer to its rightful regent.” She beamed at him.

“Dante Darkblood, the Prince of Elsewhere. The rightful heir and true protectorate of the Rift.”

There was not a single gasp or murmur. The entire room stilled, like the beating heart of Evermore had stopped.

The words didn’t register at first. They felt wrong in my ears, like static. Dante. Prince of Elsewhere. I couldn’t piece them together, they didn’t fit. They echoed again and again, circling until they twisted into an unrelenting ring. I blinked, but the world wouldn’t come back into focus.

He couldn’t be. Couldn’t be. Couldn’t be. Whatever connection I felt with him, with the Thread, wrenched away. And in the hollow it left behind, something dark bloomed.

Verrine was smiling. Dante wasn’t denying it. My skin turned cold. Of course he hadn’t warned me. Of course he’d let me step blindly into this. All Dante ever did was lie. Whatever small thing I’d felt for him curdled in my chest.

The crowd erupted in forced applause, the sound muffled in my ears. I couldn’t hear. Couldn’t breathe. Dante wasn’t scanning the room, drinking it in. He was watching me. Dorian’s hand gripped tight to my thigh.

As Dante ascended the steps to the throne, the ether in the air bent, flickering, and all at once every student was forced to their knees. I felt the pull, but I was used to the Thread manipulating me, practiced in this. I resisted.

“Evermore hasn’t used the Sanctum throne room since the Scission War,” Dorian murmured. “We haven’t had a regent since Evermore was agreed to respect the balance. ”

The urge to kneel intensified. I felt my wound tug at its seams, but willed each and every muscle to lock, to fight it.

Warmth bloomed under my ribs again, turning resolve into agony.

Dorian’s hand snaked around my wrist and tugged, hard.

My knees buckled, the pain sharp. Against my will, I complied.

Dante flicked his wrist idly, his sleeve shifting. I saw it then, the glint at his wrist, Lumen wrapped around it like a trophy. I shuddered at the thought that it was protecting him from harm.

All of this was his fault. All the things I hadn’t let myself think came crashing to the surface. Ruby. My mother. The cards. The Rift.

I surged, Dorian’s grip fighting to pull me down, but I wormed my wrist away. “If Evermore is truly yours,” I called out, voice cracking. “If you are its rightful regent, why did you have to steal and manipulate to take it?”

A hush circled the room as Dante’s head snapped in my direction. “I didn’t steal Evermore. I didn’t steal anything. You did, Arabella Davenant. Remember?”

“Sit down,” Dorian pleaded, his grip on my wrist more urgent. “Arabella, don’t do this. You are bleeding again.” His voice broke like he was tired of watching me fall apart all week.

“You manipulated me.” My voice trembled, but I forced the words out. “You manipulated everyone.” Blood soaked my sleeve. I staggered, the world yawning sideways. “Take your throne, take Evermore if that’s what you want, but let the rest of us go. Just— let us go .”