Page 6

I proceeded down the line, offering various ‘yes’ and ‘no’ answers to the arrangement of beige food in front of me. I wasn’t exactly sure what all of it was, only that there was a mound of pallid-looking potato and a couple of thick sausages engrossed in soggy batter.

“That’s Dante Darkblood.” Ruby whispered tersely, waiting for me at the end of the line. “He is not the sort of person you should be spending time with, especially this late into term. He’s dangerous.”

“It was hardly a conversation.”

“Names, ladies?” Ruby guided us to the first of twelve rows of tables, and my grip on the tray wavered as we stalled in front of a bench. A uniformed student with a badge that read prefect stared up at us.

He lounged there like he belonged to the room more than the furniture itself, his attention sliding lazily to me, a smirk curling at the corner of his mouth. He looked as if he’d been waiting for something, perhaps this exact moment.

His dark hair was tousled in a way that was too perfect to be accidental, framing his striking features. He tilted his head just slightly, like he was sizing me up, before his lips curved into a slow, knowing smile that dimpled his one cheek.

Then, it clicked. I knew that face. I’d seen it before, in the file the executor showed me. He was a Cavendish. This was the boy from the file, the son. I couldn’t imagine what it was like growing up in this place.

“Arabella Dav—,” I started, “Davenant.” He looked at me expectantly, chuckling as he checked my name off the form before him. As he looked down I noticed the same crescent moon tattoo the executor had just below his ear. The same tattoo Verrine had. Weird .

“Please, as if you don’t know , Dorian,” Ruby scowled.

“It’s a formality,” he countered. “ Ruby. You’re both late for the Lower Sixth’s allocated meal time, so make sure you finish before seven. It’s forbidden to mix with the Upper Sixth during social hours, only during lessons.”

“Stupid rule,” Ruby rolled her eyes. “Marcus talks to us.”

“I take my job as a prefect seriously. I don’t give anything away while I’m on duty, and neither does Marcus.” What did he mean by that? Give what away?

“Yeah, I can see that.” Ruby gave him another dramatic eye roll, shaking her dark curls loose as we moved past the check-in desk. “Ignore him. The Rift marked him badly last year, he scored lower than he should have. He’s been a nightmare.”

I bit back the question. Rift. Marked badly. Whatever it meant, I had the sinking feeling I wouldn’t like the answer.

We wove through the tables, the low hum of conversation pressing in around us.

I glanced over the students, all too poised, too perfect, their beauty just a shade off like portraits painted with colors too rich to be real.

This was just a migraine, surely. But something didn’t feel right. Everyone was watching me closely.

I tossed the tray down, the mashed potatoes squelching. I sighed, shutting my eyes for a second as I rubbed my temples.

“You asked me earlier if I was gifted,” Ruby said, taking a bite of her lumpy pancake sausage without hesitation.

“I asked if you had a talent,” I corrected. Everyone here spoke in riddles. I didn’t understand a thing about the curriculum or the strange rules. I needed someone to be direct with me.

“Whatever.” She shrugged. “Point is, everyone at Evermore is gifted in some way or another, Arabella. Including you.”

I scoffed. “ Hardly.”

Ruby didn’t laugh, and she didn’t blink. “You wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

I let out a snort, pushing my food around with the tip of my fork.

“Do you believe in Angels?” Ruby asked.

More religion talk. It was such a strange question, it caught me off guard.

After everything, I should’ve said no, but I wasn’t sure anymore.

I stabbed at my mashed potatoes, pretending to think about it.

“No. I mean, not really. I went to a meditation class once. They talked about feathers being signs of guardian Angels.” The thought sat in my stomach like I was sure the stodge on my plate would.

Angels. Death. Heaven. I didn’t want to think about any of it right now.

“Guardian Angels aren’t real.” Ruby smirked. “And?”

“And I thought it was nonsense.” I rolled my eyes, and her eyes blinked a little too hard. I’d upset her. She didn’t know what had happened to my parents, the question wasn’t her fault. I softened my tone, forcing a smile. “Why?”

“I’m only trying to help.” Ruby dropped her fork, her face now shifting to concern. “You show up here at the end of term, you look tired as Elsewhere, and you don’t even know why you’re here. That’s dangerous.”

“I know I won’t keep up.” I took a bite of the potatoes.

Bland. I snatched the salt shaker and poured liberally.

I’d had friends like her before. Ruby reminded me of Lily.

Dramatic as hell and sensitive, too. I would have put money on her being a cancer.

“My grades were poor at home, too. But I don’t care about any of that anymore. I’m just here to graduate. That’s it.”

“Graduate?” Her wide eyes turned steely, her lips pressing together. “You’d be lucky to get that far. We all would. If you want to know what Evermore really is, you’ll have to start paying attention.” Her tone made my chest tighten. “Hang back a little after dinner. You’ll see what I mean. ”

I was about to protest when a loud scream rang out from behind us. My head snapped up as a table next to us clattered, plates flying. Marcus barely had time to move before Dante was on him, fingers wrapped tight around his throat, pinning him against the table with a force that rattled the plates.

“ Daemon ,” Marcus spat, bloodied lips curling. “We all know what you are. We’re all praying you won’t survive the Rift.”

“Praying?” Dante swung, and Marcus spat blood, wiping the smile from his face. “The saints can’t help you.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t combust the second you stepped foot in Evermore. Is it true, Darkblood? What they say about you?” The words barely left Marcus’s mouth before Dante stilled, the energy around him shifting. “Or is it just a lie you made up for attention?”

Dante didn’t answer. He just stopped, grip on Marcus’ collar wavering. A shiver ran down the length of my spine, the sound of the room muffling. Suddenly, Dante’s head snapped toward me. I saw it then, the look in his eyes. Not gray anymore but silver, shifting like vials of mercury.

He dropped his grip on Marcus, straightening as he took a slow step toward my table, lips slightly parted as though he wanted to tell me something.

Marcus gasped, clutching his throat, attention snapping to me as if he were just now realizing I was standing there at all. My scalp prickled, and for a breath I felt temptation. Like if I held Dante Darkblood’s gaze, invited him, I might get the answers I was seeking.

“Arabella.” Ruby’s voice cut through the air, panicked. She reached for my arm. “Let’s get out of here.”

I didn’t move. Couldn’t move. My limbs felt weighted, frozen to the bench like the moment itself had locked me inside it.

“Right now,” she begged, her voice distant. I could not tear myself from Dante. For a moment, there were only the two of us in the dining hall.

My fingers found my necklace, gripping the metal so hard it left an imprint against my palm. A silent prayer lodged in my throat. Mom, help me.

I forced my head to turn, to break eye contact. Ruby was right, Dante was dangerous, and there was something very wrong about this place.

Dante took another step forward. My vision blurred, and the only part of my body I could seem to move were my eyelids. I blinked, trying to make sense of what I was seeing. Something gleamed in his eyes, almost like recognition.

“Arabella, move!” Ruby screamed.

This time, I ran.