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Summer

A fter the assembly, Connor goes to speak to his brothers. Rafe’s furious stare nearly burned a hole through Cons’s forehead while the headmaster spoke. He’d wasted no time in cluing in the rest of his brothers about Connor being the one to discover the body. I stare at Rafe with a scowl. He has some nerve being pissed at Connor for keeping him in the dark when he’s been putting Con through the ringer for the last two weeks.

Alice turns to me the second they are out of earshot, her eyes surprisingly serious. “You should tell him.”

“Tell him what?” I know the answer, but telling him and vocalizing my concerns will just make them more real. Ignorance is a silly little blanket I can wrap around myself and hide in.

“About Gia. That she kind of looks like you. He said nothing is too small.”

I finally pull my gaze away from Connor, who looks like he’s getting the verbal ass-kicking of the century led by a very angry Rafe.

“It’s probably just a coincidence. We have no proof that it’s more than that.”

I’ve been running for so long, Alice. Let me stay wrapped in my blanket of delusion. It shields me from the glare of reality. The messages from the blank account warning me. The fact that Gia looked like me. The way my acceptance to Avalon showed up right when I needed it. So many threads of truth are wrapping around me, and I want them to be coincidences. I need them to be.

Alice nods slowly, her eyes narrowing on me. “So, you’re going to stay and tell me why you and Connor are weird? Cool.”

My stomach rolls, and without saying anything else, I stand and start for the headmaster’s office. I hate that I’m so fucked up that I’d rather face the fear of someone potentially wanting to torture and kill me than face up to the words my boyfriend said to me in the shower. But here we are, and this is my reality.

Every step through the long corridors is heavier than the last, and my stomach drops when the headmaster’s office door comes into view. He’ll think I’m an idiot and a narcissist for making everything about me. But you know, maybe I can live with that and even find comfort in it because if someone as smart as the headmaster can’t see any merit in the idea, then I must just be paranoid. I can go back to my blanket. There is no evidence that the person chasing me actually mistook me for Gia. I wasn’t even being chased. The eyes on me were simply a figment of my imagination.

I stop in front of his door, the dark wood looming in front of me. A faint buzz of power emanates from it. No doubt it’s covered with so many runes that the wood is struggling to conduct them all. Or, maybe the headmaster’s power is so vast it can’t be contained by something as mundane as an office.

I lift my hand and knock twice. The sound echoes, followed by an eerie silence before his low voice seeps through the crack beneath the door.

“Enter.”

One word, it’s so simple, yet it’s dripping with power, strength, and fury. Clearly, the veil he’d dropped during the assembly is still down. At least now I understand why he doesn’t cover his runes up like other sorcerers. It’s a threat and a promise. They could know all the magic he could throw at them, every spell, every secret, and they would still be unable to defend against him.

I swallow, taking an extra beat to steel myself before I open the door.

The room is not at all as I expected. It is a large circle lined with bookcases filled with the most ornate books. The floor is composed of dark stones perfectly aligned and laid in a pleasing pattern, a large, luxurious midnight blue rug covering over half of it. The desk is in the center of the room, expertly littered with books and papers. It’s perfectly organized but also chaotic to the untrained eye. I can’t help but think there is a purpose to this. Sorcerers are known to conceal their abilities. Knowledge is power, and it is often best to be underestimated.

There is what looks like a skylight just above the desk, but instead of a view of Avalon’s sky, an orb of light blue light ebbs and flows in the space, lighting the room. Occasionally, sparks of bright light spark away from the sphere and fly through the room. A small model of the campus sits at the corner of his desk, small lights moving through the intricate map. A spelled crystal hovers above it, projecting a surveillance feed into the air.

“Miss Tuatha De Daanan,” the headmaster says, a note of impatience in his voice.

I step further into the office, finally pulling my gaze from the splendor of the room. His penetrating silver gaze pierces the astral projection. The closer I get to the desk, the more I notice. The small-scale campus surveillance feed switches from place to place. He waves his hand, and it disappears before I can make sense of it. Sorcerers and their secrets.

I stop in front of his desk. “Headmaster Emrys.”

He lifts his chin, his silver eyes stormier than I’ve ever seen them. “What is it you wanted to speak to me about?”

I nervously play with the pleats of my skirt, averting my gaze, looking anywhere but at him. Fuck, this is so stupid. I focus over his shoulder, staring at a particularly ornate book. “Gia. Well, not directly about her, I don’t suppose, but?—”

He slams his hand down on his desk, making me jump in surprise. “Miss Tuatha De Daanan, when you speak to me, you look at me. Otherwise, this is not a conversation I need to be here for.”

My cheeks heat as I meet his gaze. There is something very intriguing about the way my body reacts when he speaks to me like that. His fury is palpable, but despite his harsh words, I can tell it’s not directed at me. Even with that knowledge, it doesn’t make it any easier to bear.

The question I came to ask disintegrates into nothing, the ludicrosity of it too much to handle. “I was just wondering if,” I take a breath, trying to keep my voice even, “there is a potential motive yet, or if it is all just random.”

The irritation in his eyes melts a little, and he gazes steadily at me for a moment, thinking. He waves his hand again, and the door closes behind me. He reaches into his desk drawer and pulls out a small box. I tilt my head, watching as he opens it and pulls out a small pendant of raw black tourmaline. The shape is rough, with a rim of gold around it, but what makes the gem so captivating is the eight-pointed star of obsidian at the center. It is so polished and perfectly cut compared to the rough beauty of the tourmaline that they shouldn’t work together, but they fit.

The headmaster holds up the necklace by the chain. “You will wear this, tell no one, and never take it off.”

I frown, looking at the necklace. “Why?”

He quirks a brow at me, looking unimpressed. “It was not a request.”

“Will everyone be receiving one?” I ask.

His jaw twitches in annoyance. “No. You asked about a motive. There is one. You will wear this.” He waves his hand again, and an image appears in front of me. I can’t see the body, but I can already tell this is the scene of the crime. The gore is clear even from this angle, but that’s not what he’s showing me. On the wall behind her, written in blood, is a message.

SHE BEARS THE MARK OF NIMUE. SHE WILL BE OURS.

The blood trickling down from the letters turns my stomach, and a sense of foreboding slams into me, rattling my bones. A moment later, the screen is gone and the headmaster hands me a file. I look down at it, dread filling me.

“Open it,” he commands.

I try to swallow down my fear, but it lodges in my throat. Reluctantly, I open the folder. Inside is my completed application for the school. The handwriting is sloping, delicate, cramped, and flurried. It’s nothing like mine. The headmaster stands from his chair and rounds his desk, pointing to a seal in the top corner. The red wax curves into a half circle at the bottom, and above it is what looks like a woman standing in a lake. Her arms are at her sides, slightly outstretched, and her head is turned slightly to the left. It’s the most intricate seal I’ve ever seen.

“The mark of Nimue. Whoever applied for you has marked every single page with it.” He looks at me again and then lifts the necklace. “Now, are you going to continue to be stubborn?”

Maybe my original question wasn’t so ridiculous after all.

I shake my head, brushing my fingers over the mark. “No, sir. I just… I don’t understand. This is very overwhelming.”

The headmaster stands in front of me and sits on the edge of his desk. He gently pries the file from my hands, and it disappears into thin air. “I understand, but you’re not a person who will buckle under the strain, are you?”

My spine straightens at the challenge, and I meet his gaze. “No, sir.”

He nods once and then pushes off the desk. Standing behind me, he puts the necklace around my neck, and I twist my hair up to help him. “You tell no one.” I shiver when the pendant touches my chest. When I look up, the headmaster is standing in front of me again. “The authorities do not know about the connection to you, and I would like to keep it that way. Unfortunately,” his jaw ticks, “they know about Mr. Morningstar. I could not prevent it.”

I swallow, touching the pendant. The power sparks under my fingers, but it immediately warms to me, licking curiously at my skin. “She… She looked like me. Do you think they thought?—”

“It’s a possibility,” he replies without letting me finish my thought. Obviously, he had noticed. “Do not blame yourself for the actions of a killer,” he says as if reading my thoughts.

I look away, the guilt sinking deeper into me.

The headmaster tsks. “You are stronger than this, Miss Tuatha De Daanan.”

Why does he keep saying that? And why is it working on me? Why do I want his words to be true? Why do I want to be stronger?

I look back at him, nodding. “Yes, sir.”

“There are those who die in the fire and those who thrive in it.” He walks back around his desk and sits down in his chair. “We’ll speak soon.”

I nod and turn, walking toward the door, but I pause before leaving his office, my hand on the handle. I glance over my shoulder at him. “I’m glad you’re back, sir.”

He looks at me, those silver eyes seeing way too much, but he simply nods and picks up another file from his desk.

Connor is leaning against the wall when I leave Headmaster Emrys’s office. He smiles sheepishly when he sees me. “Hi, babe.”

“Con? You’re going to see Headmaster Emrys?”

He shakes his head. “Alice told me you were here.”

I lift my eyebrows, making a mental note to discuss with Alice how much of this situation we should tell Connor. If any of it.

He pushes off the wall and reaches for me. “Can we just… forget what I said?”

“Con…”

He clears his throat and pulls a dagger from the sheath strapped to his thigh, the silver hand ornate and polished. Obviously, he wants to move past this conversation as quickly as possible. “Will you keep this on you?”

“Why?”

“Just… please?”

I exhale but nod. I should probably tell Connor I’m more of a danger to myself with that thing than anyone else, but I’ll do anything to take that look of pure helplessness off his face. Connor kneels in front of me and pulls a smaller sheath from his bag. He attaches it to my thigh and stows the dagger inside, pressing a soft kiss to the sensitive skin just above. My skirt barely conceals the leather, and I tug on it as he gets to his feet. The awkwardness returns immediately, and I can’t stand it. I close the distance between us and brush my lips over his.

“Let’s talk later?”

Connor smiles against my lips, and I feel the tension leave his body. “Okay, babe. I should get to class.”

I nod. “See you later?”

Connor kisses me again. “Be safe, okay?”

I pull back and look up at him, looping my fingers into the waistband of his pants to keep him from leaving. “Tell me I’ll see you later.”

Connor’s smile is easy. “I’ll see you later.”

“And I’ll be safe.”

Connor hesitates for a moment before he wraps his arms around me, pulling me into a hug. He inhales my hair, and I wrap my arms around his waist, holding him tight. Connor gives me one last hard kiss before we both head to class.