Page 30 of Wicked Bonds (Serpentine Academy #1)

Twenty-Eight

Rose

I drag my boot through the dirt again, leaving another furrow between the rose bushes and whatever these purple things are supposed to be.

Asters, maybe. Or chrysanthemums. If it wasn’t already obvious, I don’t have much of a green thumb despite the fact that I’m supposed to be connected to nature and the earth.

The flower garden sprawls around me in neat, planned plots, every bloom perfectly placed, and the late afternoon sun makes everything glow golden.

It makes sense that the Serpentine Academy would have a spectacular garden, students here really do get the best of everything.

Some students. Others unfortunately get to forcibly donate their life force to keep the lights on.

Twenty minutes go by while I’m pacing this same section, phone in one hand, the other pressed against various spots on the ground, which is probably pointless.

What am I going to do, grab a shovel and dig a tunnel to a hidden room?

Probably not. But I don’t know how else to look.

The map shows the hidden chamber directly beneath where I’m standing.

Somewhere under all these flowers and perfectly manicured paths is the original Accord, the first blood contract that started this whole nightmare.

I crouch down, pressing my hand flat against the earth between two rose bushes.

Their thorns catch on my sleeve as I lean forward, and I yank my arm free with enough force that one thorn draws blood.

Great. A blood sacrifice to the garden. Maybe that’ll open the mystical door.

I’m a little disappointed when nothing happens, but it was never going to be that easy, right?

I try to feel for magic the way Soren taught in those shielding classes, reaching out with whatever witchy senses I’m supposed to have. There’s magic here, sure. The whole academy is lousy with it. But nothing that screams secret chamber containing documents that could save your life .

Come on.

I move to another spot. This time I get on my knees, not caring that the ground is wet from where it was watered recently. I press both hands down, close my eyes, and try to channel whatever freaky natural magic made those water spirits listen to me at the fountain.

The ground remains stubbornly ground-like. No secret passages, no magical doors, no convenient X-marks-the-spot. Just dirt and worms and the roots of flowers that someone else will probably get to enjoy for years after I’m dead.

I check the map again, zooming in until the pixels blur. Maybe I’m reading it wrong. Maybe the garden moved. Maybe Wickersly’s map is deliberately misleading. Maybe I’m an idiot for thinking I could just walk out here and find something that’s been hidden for centuries.

The bloodmark throbs, always reminding me that I’ve got a countdown. Two years. Probably less if I keep pulling stunts like breaking into the Headmistress’s office. Every day that passes is one day closer to the Coven draining me dry, and here I am, playing treasure hunter in the flower beds.

I stand up, brushing dirt off my knees, and walk to the other side of the garden section. There’s a stone bench here, its surface worn smooth by generations of asses. I run my hands along the edges, checking for hidden switches or magical triggers. Nothing.

“Looking for something?”

I nearly jump out of my skin. Lucien stands ten feet away, hands in the pockets of his perfectly tailored coat. How does he always manage to sneak up on me? Vampire stealth is bullshit.

“Just enjoying the flowers,” I say, shoving my phone in my pocket. “Very calming. Very zen.”

His eyes flick to the dirt on my knees, the scratches on my hands from the rose thorns, the obvious pattern of disturbance I’ve left in the garden beds. “Yes, you look extremely zen .”

“Did you need something, or are you just here to annoy me?”

“You need to come with me.” His voice has that serious edge that usually means trouble. “Now.”

“I’m good here, thanks.”

“Rose.” He takes a step closer, and I catch that familiar scent of vetiver and mint. “In about thirty seconds, you’re going to attract the kind of attention you don’t want. Trust me on this.”

“Trust you?” I laugh, but it comes out bitter. “That’s hilarious, coming from the Coven’s personal spy.”

His jaw tightens. “I’m trying to help you.”

“By following me around? By reporting my every move to Wickersly? Real helpful, Lucien.”

“By getting you out of here before—” He stops, head tilting in that way that means he’s hearing something I can’t. “Move.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

He moves faster than I can see. One second he’s ten feet away, the next his arm is around my waist and I’m being lifted off the ground. I yelp in surprise as he throws me over his shoulder like I’m a sack of potatoes.

“Put me down!” I beat my fists against his back, but it’s like punching marble. “This is kidnapping! Assault! I’ll set you on fire!”

“Give it a try,” he says, already walking. His hand is firm on the back of my thighs close to my butt, keeping me in place despite my squirming.

“I hate you.” I grab a handful of his coat and pull, which does absolutely nothing. “This is humiliating.”

“It’s necessary.”

“It’s bullshit is what it is.” The blood is rushing to my head from being upside down, and the view of Lucien’s ass, while admittedly excellent, is not improving my mood. “I can walk, you know. I have legs.”

“Which you weren’t using to leave when I asked nicely.”

“You didn’t ask nicely! You just showed up and started making demands!”

He turns a corner, and finally, mercifully, sets me down. I immediately shove him, which moves him about as much as shoving a mountain would. My hair is a mess, my shirt is twisted, and I’m pretty sure my face is red from all the blood that pooled in my head.

“You’re an asshole,” I inform him, trying to fix my appearance.

He nods toward the garden.

I turn, still fuming, and see a familiar figure strutting across the grass. Galanthis, that weird cat that seems to have free run of the campus, is making his way toward the exact spot where I was searching. He stops at the disturbed earth, sniffs delicately, then starts scratching at the dirt.

Is he about to…?

Yep. The cat squats and takes a poo right in the middle of the chrysanthemums.

“Galanthis has a sixth sense for where he shouldn’t be,” Lucien says. “And he’s Wickersly’s familiar. Everything he sees, she can see if she chooses to look through his eyes.”

The implications hit me like a truck. If I’d still been there, crouched in the dirt obviously searching for something, Wickersly would have seen everything. Would have known exactly what I was doing.

“Oh,” I say, because what else is there to say?

“Yes. Oh.” Lucien’s looking at me with an expression I can’t read. “I know what you’re doing, Rose.”

My back straightens. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re looking for the chamber.” He says it quietly.

The denial is on my lips, ready to go, but the look in his eyes stops me. He knows. Somehow, he knows everything.

“How?” is all I manage.

“I’ve been watching you, remember? It’s literally my job.” There’s something almost sad in his voice. “And you’re not exactly subtle, searching the garden with your phone out showing a map you definitely shouldn’t have.”

“So what now? You report me to Wickersly? Tell her all about my pathetic attempt to save my own life?”

“Now,” he says, grabbing my wrist, “we don’t have this conversation in the open where anyone could be listening.”

He starts walking, pulling me along, and I dig my heels in. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“Yes, you are.” His grip doesn’t hurt, but it’s firm enough that breaking free would require magic I don’t want to use right now. “My quarters. Now.”

“That sounds like a terrible idea.”

“Would you prefer to discuss your treasonous activities in the middle of campus?” He keeps walking, and I have to follow or be dragged. “Because I’m sure that will end well for you.”

“This is still kidnapping,” I point out, but I stop resisting. He has a point, much as I hate to admit it.

The walk to the staff quarters feels longer than usual, probably because I’m being forcibly escorted by a vampire who knows I’m actively working against his employers. Every student we pass gives us a look, and I can already imagine the rumors. They’ll probably think it’s some kinky vampire thing.

“Relax,” Lucien says quietly. “You look like I’m leading you to your execution.”

“Aren’t you?”

He glances down at me, and there’s something in his expression that makes my stomach flip. “No, Rose. I’m not.”

We reach the staff residence, and he unlocks his door with one hand while keeping hold of my wrist with the other, like he thinks I’ll run the second he lets go. Which, fair. I absolutely would.

Once we’re inside, he finally releases me. I rub my wrist even though it doesn’t hurt, just to make a point, and look around his room. It looks exactly the same as before. Bed, bookshelf, single chair, desk with another old book on it. This time it’s something called Carmilla.

“Lesbian vampires?” I say, reading the back. “Interesting choice.”

“It’s a classic.” He locks the door, and the click sounds very final. “Now. We need to talk about what you’re planning.”

“I’m not planning anything.”

He gives me a look that could freeze hell. “Rose.”

“Fine. I’m planning to not die in two years. Is that a crime?”

“Yes, actually. According to the Coven’s laws, attempting to break a blood contract is punishable by immediate termination.”

“Everything’s punishable by termination with you people.” I sit on his desk. “I breathe wrong, termination. I sneeze during a ceremony, termination. I save my own life, believe it or not, termination.”

“This isn’t a joke.”

“I’m not laughing.” I meet his eyes, and for once, I let him see how scared I really am.

“I’m twenty-one years old, Lucien. I should be worried about college loans and whether to swipe right on dating apps.

Instead, I’m counting down the days until some centuries-old witches drain my life force.

So yeah, I’m looking for the hidden chamber.

I’m looking for the original Accord. I’m looking for any possible way to not die. ”

The silence lasts minutes. Finally, Lucien speaks.

“The chamber exists,” he says, and my heart nearly stops. “But you’ll never find it the way you’re searching.”