Page 17

Either no one notices or no one cares that I leave, because I’m not stopped. The shadows are already enveloping Kaelis as he strides down the opposite hallway. He doesn’t even so much as glance back, though I know he must hear my hasty footsteps.

Yet no matter how quick I am, I still fall behind. Nothing about my body moves like it should. The rich food is making me heavy and sluggish. Kaelis turns, dipping down a curved staircase and disappearing out of view.

The stairs end in an unfamiliar stretch of hallway. I head left, initially drawn by the sound of footsteps, only to slow my pace when a conversation carries across the cold stones of the hall.

“You may leave, now. ” Kaelis’s tone is curt and cutting.

“We have Prince Ravin’s orders to search—” The voice is familiar. It couldn’t be.

“Prince Ravin has no say here,” Kaelis interrupts the other man. “The grounds of the academy are solely under my control.”

I creep toward the entrance of a nearby room, keeping myself low and pressed to the wall. The open door casts a warm glow that reflects off a dark window opposite, the night beyond turning the glass into a mirror. Kaelis stands among five individuals dressed in simple canvas uniforms.

There are the Stellis, known for their shining armor adorned with raven and dove feathers. There are the city enforcers in their practical garb of green. Then there are the men and women who wear the drab gray-brown color that’s nearly the same shade as the walls they patrol.

My blood freezes, and my heart works three times as hard to keep it flowing, the panicked pulsing drowning out the conversation for a moment.

The Halazar guards I saw during the procession are still here.

And I recognize the man Kaelis is talking to as Glavstone’s current right hand.

Savan is his name. I heard it enough times as Glavstone barked orders at him.

“…Given that this matter involves an Arcanist who escaped Halazar, the very same convict you came to execute, Warden Glavstone assumed you would want to pursue the escapee at all costs.”

Kaelis’s stance gives him the air of being completely unbothered, except for a twitch at the corner of his mouth that turns into a frown. “Thoughtful of him.”

“Your highness, we respect that this is quite irregular. Please allow us to conduct our search of students and initiates quickly, then we shall be off,” Savan says.

The prince doesn’t move, and neither do I. Send them away, I beg silently. The academy is his domain. If he wanted, he could. But Kaelis is not known for his kindness. Especially not toward me.

“Yes, of course. I hope that we are able to find this escapee. Though I do not expect her to be here in the academy.” Kaelis’s expression relaxes into a smile.

“Still, I shall allow you into the main hall so we might be done with this and I can return to my obligations for the night of the Fire Festival.”

They turn, starting for the door. As I begin to back away, my eyes catch Savan’s in the reflection of the mirror. The ice in my veins melts in the wake of searing horror as recognition dawns on him.

“What the—” he starts to say.

I run.

Back down the hall where I came from. Footsteps hurry behind me. Kaelis says something, but I lose the words.

I can’t go back to Halazar. I won’t. I’d rather die.

These frantic declarations propel my every step.

I’m practically leaping down a staircase, darting through rooms that are now illuminated by lanterns—the whole academy lit up from the ritual of the Chalice, like a beast that’s come to life once more, fueled by sacrificed futures.

Those lanterns, though sparse, are far too bright.

They feel like spotlights. Like the same spotlights that landed on me the night I was caught.

Side burning and chest heaving, I skid to a stop as I find myself in a room without any other exits.

My gaze sweeps across the shelves, searching for a place to hide, but snags on the large metallic object that consumes the center of the space.

The thing is so strange that, for a moment, I forget who and what I’m running from.

Before me is a machine unlike anything I’ve ever beheld.

A metallic wheel is turned by an unseen force, with the heavy chain that spins it disappearing into the ceiling.

A large block of steel rises and falls over a mortar.

Worn down in the pit of the center of the machine are crystalline shards that fight against every hit of the grindstone, bursting with stardust at each impact and bathing everything in cold, hazy light.

Shelves line the walls, crammed with crates whose contents wink at me with a glow identical to the shards in the mortar.

It’s a unique cerulean hue, easily identifiable.

It’s this light that allows divers to find the crystals they harvest from the inky blackness of the darkest caves of the Drowned Mines.

This room is a small treasure trove of the raw inking material for Cups cards. But the machine…

It’s a powder mill, I realize. But, according to the crown, mills must be operated by hand.

The process is too delicate and requires too much magic to be automated.

So they claim…Is it a lie? Or are there Marked hidden in the walls of the academy working this small mill? Neither would be a surprise.

I approach it with the same care I might a feral animal, as though the machine is a sentient thing that might get spooked and run away.

It’s old but not ancient…The gears and pins are well worn but still in good condition.

Some kind of rune has been engraved upon its hammer—what I think looks like a V with a P?

E? attached on its tall side. But the details are hard to make out when it’s in constant motion.

A blur is at my side, drawing my attention. I swing on instinct. Kaelis catches my fist with ease and our eyes lock. My arm quivers against his grip.

“What’s that supposed to do?” His voice is low and ominous.

My breath hitches. His stare threatens to swallow me whole.

He was holding back his agitation in the main hall, but he’s not holding back now.

The fingers of his other hand lock around my biceps, and he steers me until my back meets the cool stone of a nearby wall.

My fist falls at the impact, my muscles beginning to struggle with the effort to merely hold myself upright.

The prince has nestled us between two shelves. His body is searingly hot against the cool air of the castle, his face ominous and outlined by the hazy glow of the crystals stored throughout the room.

“Are you going to give me to the guards?” I manage to make the question sound defiant even though the mere idea nearly sets my teeth to chattering.

A wicked glint sparks in his eyes. “Now, why would I allow my future wife to be sent to Halazar?”

My stomach churns at the words. “It should be obvious I’ve no interest in being your wife—in having anything to do with you at all.”

“Ah, yes…I presume that’s why you chose the Two of Cups.” The shadows darken upon his face as he dips his chin, his expression turning sinister. “You wished to make a mockery of me.” The words are barbed, and they sting with the venom of accusation.

“And here I thought you’d be smart enough to realize I’d helped you with that card.” My voice is honed to a sharp edge to match his snarl.

“Helped me?” Kaelis’s brow furrows further. He leans closer, looming over me, hair tickling my brow. Our chests nearly touch with every breath. The idea of bringing my knee into his groin to get him away crosses my mind. But I refrain.

Halazar guards are here; he could send me back with a word… Now isn’t the time to antagonize the prince further. Even when it’s oh so satisfying.

“What could make me look more like a long-lost noble than a secret, scorned lover from another clan? What could make our ‘love’ seem more legitimate than my devotion to you leading me to destroy any chance of a future with someone else?” I hate how well this worked out for him.

The only solace I get is to try to use it to ensure I’m not sent back to that cell to rot.

“Who was he?” the prince demands to know.

“Why do you care?” I’m not telling him any more than he already knows about Liam from watching me fight my future, which is already far too much. “He clearly won’t be anything anymore—can’t be.” The words are harder to say than I want to admit.

Kaelis’s eyes widen slightly, then narrow once more. A low, amused growl rumbles in his chest. “You still love him.”

“Silence,” I hiss.

“Even after you’ve killed your prospects with him with your own hands…

you mourn for him.” The words are so full of hate, as if the idea of caring for someone—of loving someone so much that you yearn for them even when your better sense has screamed for you not to—is not only foreign to him but disgusting as well.

“What would you and your withered, cruel heart know about love?”

“A withered and cruel heart can’t be broken, Clara. I’ve nothing to lose, and you’d do well to remember that.”

“Or what?”

“Or I’ll show you why you should reconsider being so eager for a good fuck that you’d open your legs for nothing more than an illusion before the whole academy.”

I shove him away with a noise of disgust, guards be damned, unable to bear him being near me for a second longer.

Kaelis catches my fingers. A hiss of pain escapes me.

Confusion, rather than anger, overtakes his expression.

He looks from my hands to my face. Slowly, almost gently, he brushes my hair from my cheek.

It’s the intensity of his focus that stills me enough that I’m not batting his hand away in an instant.

His touch is almost… kind. And after a year in Halazar, I find myself completely confused by how to react when someone is reaching for me without intent to harm.