by Angel Lawson
The staircase to the library is on the other side of the building, but sure, maybe he’s taking the long way. Darius lying about where he’s going isn’t a huge deal. I’m more focused on the lingering sensation of someone being in my head. I touch my temple, still feeling the violation. Darius’ pale blue eyes watch me closely.
“Hey—how are you by the way? I didn’t get a chance to ask you after the challenge.”
Darkness flickers over his face. “Physically, I’m fine, but that monster was…I don’t know…fucking terrifying. Even knowing the art of conjuring and manipulation, I’ve never been so scared.”
I shudder, remembering the cold. “They’re awful.”
“There’s a rumor going around that you’ve faced them before.”
I’m never sure how much the other students know about that night. If they know the truth about Garland or the key. I doubt Marielle or the twins have kept their mouths shut. I also know not everyone in this place is on the side of the Lowerworld, Elizabeth is a perfect example. Or someone like Luke who feels betrayed. Darius, whose uncle lives in the Upperworld, he may not be so black and white. Especially after the challenge.
“Whoever gets the key and makes it to the temple will have to face not one, but many of those beasts. And they aren’t illusions. They’re real. With very real teeth, and I get the feeling they’re carnivores.”
“Is that why she’s doing this? Putting us up against them as a test?”
“She wants an army. Yes.”
He swears under his breath, then scratches the back of his neck. “You want to know the truth?”
“If you want to tell me.”
“I wasn’t going to the library.”
“I didn’t think so. You’re going in the wrong direction.” My eyes flick to his side. “And you’re not carrying any books.”
He laughs. “You’re smart, Valkyrie.”
“Just observant.”
“Well, that’s more than a lot of people in this place. They’re more concerned with parties and getting laid, than the fact we’re knocking on the door of the apocalypse.”
I can relate, unfortunately, on both sides.
“Want to know where I was really going?” There’s a mischievous glint in his eye.
“If you want to show me.”
He jerks his head, indicating I should follow. We head back up the stairs, past the dormitory and down a hallway I’d never seen before.
“How much do you know about Victorine?” he asks.
“Not much.” I don’t want to reveal the few facts Armin had told me. “What about you?”
“I doubt you know this, but there’s nothing my uncle loves to do more than trash-talk the gods. As you know, over the years he’d done plenty of work with Camulus.”
He’s bought the Immortals' contract from him. I nod.
“Victorine was Camulus’ muse. Although he was the God of War, she was the fuel that sparked his tyranny. She was the puppet master; the whisper in a King’s ear, the motivation behind a knight, the powder in general’s bomb. She spent her days encouraging powerful men to do damaging things.”
I think of her standing behind Roland, whispering in his ear.
“She feeds on destruction,” he says, “and I have no doubt that the gods sent her here with a purpose.”
“What would that be?”
“If my uncle’s stories are true, and there’s always reason to suspect he’s exaggerating for his own amusement, she’s here to sow chaos, but most of all, she’s here to ensure the apocalypse happens.”
“And you don’t want that?” I ask carefully. We’re on a curving staircase, one that clearly climbs to one of the towers that peaks over the Academy. We’re alone. Far from any other students. Far from the Immortals.
“The Shaman do not pick sides, and we certainly do not play the games of a petty, vengeful goddess.” His pale eyes are deep with determination. “We’ve always been independent and rulers of our own fate. I don’t want to be under her thumb.”
He hasn’t exactly answered my question about the apocalypse. The door at the top is closed. Darius presses his ear against the wood, listening, before opening the door. It’s a small, dark room. No, more like a nest. Scraps of fabric, paper, and wood line the walls. On the floor is a matted down part. Dark embers glow in the fireplace.
“What the hell is this?” I ask.
“This is where she sleeps.”
I stare at the room and think of Victorine. She’s beautiful. Like a queen. She lives here? I shift my gaze to Darius, searching for answers on his face. He looks as disturbed as I feel.
“Why are you showing me this?”
“Because like the winged monster in the challenge, Victorine is an illusion, but like the real monsters surrounding the school, she is also very, very real.”
I’m not sure if it’s his purpose for bringing me to her room, but I say, “We have to kill her.”
“Or her host.” Roland. “But that’s easier said than done.”
He shuts the door, separating us from the horrors of the room.
“How do we do it?”
“I don’t know. Killing gods isn’t something I’ve done before. It’s not something any of us have done. We’re brats. Royals. Silver spoons, wiped asses, all of that stuff, but…” he holds my eye. He knows about the Morrigan. About who I am.
“But I have.”
“And so have your allies.”
He knows about the Immortals as well. I wonder if he knows about their past with Victorine?
“If you stop her, I’ll fight with you.”
That gets my attention. “You will?”
“I have no problem with the Lowerworld expanding realms. It makes no difference to me or my people, but being under Victorine’s rule? That changes things.”
He offers his hand, and I don’t hesitate to shake it. I agree completely. We need to take out Victorine. Unfortunately, I think, as I follow him back down the stairs, putting distance between us and her nest, taking her out isn’t going to be easy.
No one has done it yet.
11
Hildi
“You’re going the wrong way.”
I slow my stride and look over. Miya stands next to a statue of a gargoyle. They’re about the same size and height—the exception is Miya’s handsome, chiseled face and the lack of fangs. He looks at ease, that’s part of the trick. He’s slight, but the hard-packed muscle is hidden under his robes. He’s deadly. Any object in sight could be used as a weapon. A pencil. A hair pin, the shard of a vase, or really, just his bare hands.
My heart beats harder in memory of the night we shared. We’d fucked. Hard. But it was out of necessity, not true passion. I felt guilty more than anything else. I’d made him break his vow of celibacy. If he’s upset by what happened, he’s kept it to himself.
“You don’t look like you’re headed to Victorine’s slaughter, either?”
He sighs. “I wish. I went outside to meditate and try to center myself before it starts. Victorine…”
“I’ve heard none of you are fans.”
“She’s evil.” I think he means that literally.
“Well, I’m not going. Not tonight. I’ve had enough mind games for the last twenty-four hours.” Between the dream or whatever it was with Morgan, talking to Rupert, getting jumped in the hallway, and making the deal with Darius, there’s no way I’m sitting by while Victorine mind-fucks the Academy.
“I don’t blame you,” he says. “But be careful. These are mandatory.”
“I’ll find a safe place to hide.” I already know where I’m going. Where someone I’m looking for is probably hiding as well.
He nods, but doesn’t turn away, like there’s something else he wants to say to me.
“Everything okay?” I ask.
“We haven’t really had the chance to talk about that night.”
I grip the strap of my bag. “No, we haven’t. I really appreciate it, Miya. I know it went against
your personal beliefs.”
“My personal beliefs are to help others instead of harm. Something that will take me the rest of my immortal life to atone for.” He holds my eye. “That night was about assisting you, Hildi.”
He says it all without emotion, his self-control impressive. He lacks the low boiling anger that Agis carries just beneath the surface, or the ever-present guilt that weighs Armin like a shroud. He’s not anxious like Rupert, or smug and narcissistic like Marshal. He’s steady. Even. Calm.
He may be the hardest one for me to reach if I’m truly trying to balance these souls. We’d already had sex, mind-blowing, magic-infused sex, and I don’t particularly feel closer to him. It makes me question this whole strategy.
A group of students passes us, headed toward the staircase that leads to the basement. “You should go. Get a good seat to the massacre.”
He grimaces. “We’ll stop them.”
Will we? I want to ask, but I’m afraid to say the words out loud, just in case the gods are listening.
With a final look at one another, we part, and I turn away from where the rest of the Academy is headed to the quietest place in the school.
The library.
“I guess you’re not interested in watching Victorine’s show either?”
Rupert doesn’t pull his eyes away from the book shelf. His fingers skim along the spines, searching for something in particular.
He tugs out the book with a long, slender finger, then finally glances at me. “I’ve seen it before. Trust me. It doesn’t get better.”
“It seems to be a consensus. The Immortals are not a fan of Victorine.” I take the book from him and idly flip through the pages. It’s mostly illustrations of ancient battles. “She sounds horrible.”
“She is.”
He turns and walks down the long row of books, his shoes echoing softly off the marble. I study the broad line of his shoulders, the tapering to his waist. I’ve never seen what’s under that uniform—something he wears despite the fact it’s no longer a rule.
He turns, heading further back. The books smell different on this row. Older. Mustier. Rupert cuts his eyes at me, but his lips curve into a smile.
“What?”
“You’re very determined, aren’t you?”
“Sometimes.” All the time.
“Did you come to try to convince me of your plan again?”
“Not really. I just needed somewhere to hide out from Victorine. I figured she may have her goons do room checks, but this place is massive and has a million little nooks and hiding places.”
He stops outside a dark, wooden door. A shiver runs down my spine as his eyes peer into my soul.
“Fine. It’s a lie. I do have a plan. A map. Intricately detailed.”
He moves, faster than a cat, one hand opening the door, the other pushing me inside. I’m caught completely off guard, confused, strangely exhilarated by his show of force. The door closes with a click and he’s pushed my back against it. I inhale his warm and clean scent. His breath smells like mint.
I raise an eyebrow. “Care to tell me what’s going on?”
“What you want from me is very difficult, Hildi.”
“That’s why I made a plan.”
He shakes his head, wavy hair grazing his shoulders. “This can’t be part of a plan. That’s the whole problem. Overanalyzing females is what got me in this situation in the first place. I used my mind, not my emotions. My father manipulated me. Got my brain twisted. He taught me that sex is just another battle, a game of chess.”
Understanding dawns. “You’re right. Sex is raw. Passionate.”
At least, if you’re lucky.
With the way Rupert is standing over me, the way he’s pressed against me, I really, really want to get lucky.
“So what you want is to feel?”
“That’s all I want. Even if it’s not what I deserve.”
I tilt my head and cup his cheek with my hand. “I’m willing to do this if you are.”
He swallows hard and nods. “I’m scared.”
“Of what?”
“Losing control.”
“I can’t promise that you won’t lose control, Rupert, but I can assure you that I’ll be there every step of the way.” I run my fingers behind his neck. “This is about finding balance.” I push up on my toes, my mouth inches from his. “It’s about redemption.” I think of the word Miya used earlier. “Atonement.”
His body trembles.
His eyes watch my mouth.
His hands fist by his side.
I kiss his forehead, his cheek, his jaw.
When he’s ready, when he’s past ready, I brush my lips against his, feeling the warmth and need. His eyes are wide, but close when we kiss again, his mouth parts, his tongue eager. Our kisses grow heated, hard, and for a man that claims inexperience, I’m impressed. It’s only a few seconds before my knees are weak and my stomach twists anxiously. My body warms and his hands—they move to my hips—dragging me toward him.
I feel the bulge straining in his pants, surprisingly large and hard. He rubs against me and my lower body aches. I reach for his button—
“Oh gods,” he groans, abruptly stepping back. His face a tight grimace.
“What?”
He turns away, shoulders heaving.
I touch his shoulder. “Rupert?”
“It’s…” he glances down to his waist, “it’s been a long time, Hildi.”
It takes me a second to understand what’s happening, but I glance back at his face—his young, handsome face, and I’m struck again by his relative youth, and then by the reminder of his inexperience.
A kiss? Yeah, that may have been enough.
His ears flame. “I’m sorry. I told you. I’m fucked up. I can’t even…”
I touch his arm and face him. “It’s normal, and it’s part of the process.”
“It’s humiliating.”
I laugh. His eyes darken. “You’re laughing at me?”
“No, I’m laughing at myself.”
His hurt expression tells me he doesn’t believe it. “Do you remember me the night Marielle bit me? That was humiliating. I have never been so desperate in my life. I begged you to get me off.”
“Yeah, and I ran away.”
“As you should have. I was deranged.” I take his hand. “This place makes us crazy. Sex makes all of us crazy. You should have seen Armin the first time—” I stop myself.
“Really?” he asks, curious about the other immortal.
“We all have our hang-ups, Rupert, but we’re going to work it out.” I laugh darkly. “The fucking world depends on it.”
“Did you just say that the world depends on our fucking?”
I see the hint of a smile, and that’s how I have faith that we’ll get through this one step at a time.
It’s late when I leave the library, but the halls are filled with students. Excited voices echo in the hallway and I witness at least one scuffle break out. I pass by one of the classrooms and a hand reaches out, pulling me inside.
Armin looks down at me.
“What the hell is going on?”
“They’re high on adrenaline,” he says. “It’s normal after watching a high-energy fight.”
“No monster?”
“No just a good old-fashioned cage fight.”
“Anyone I know?”
He shakes his head. “It seems like she’s running through the weaker royals first. Some are young. Others not physically imposing. The stronger students find it a relief and amusing. They’re really just happy it’s not them.”
“Sounds intentional.”
“Everything Victorine does is intentional.”
Anger spikes under my skin. I hate bullies. Loathe them. And that’s what it sounds like is infiltrating the Academy. I spin on my heel and head to the door.
“Where are you going?”
“To talk to Roland, one on one.”
“Not a good idea.”
/> “I don’t care. I have to do something.”
I step into the crowded hall and slip away, headed straight to the Headmaster’s office. I knock, but don’t wait, walking into the room. I wince when I see Roland behind the desk. Victorine sits on his lap and his hand is tucked in her shirt, stroking her breast.
“My fault,” I say, fighting a gag, “I should have knocked.”
Roland’s eyes narrow and he runs his hand down Victorine’s leg. She has a small twisted smile on her mouth.
“I figured you’d make an appearance,” he says, shifting his gaze from me to the goddess on his lap. “She can’t keep herself out of others’ business.”
“The goings-on at the Academy, including these insane challenges, are my business.”
“Fine,” he says, scooting Victorine off his lap. She pouts, standing behind his large, leather chair. “As if you don’t know, we’re building an army.”
“By tossing children in cage fights? You of all people know how awful that is.”
“I do know how it is. And I also know what it’s like to be ripped from your home as a child and pushed into battle.” He leans forward, dark eyes twinkling. “It’s how I became a man. An immortal. I survived and continue to survive.”
“I’m not sure your soul did.” He shrugs, and I add, “You don’t have to do this.”
“I don’t, but I am. The gods want a show and since you’ve hidden the key and refuse to start the crusade, this is the only alternative.”
“So this is my fault.”
He grins. “You said it, not me.”
“I’m not giving you the key.”
“Then we’ll keep playing with our toys.”
Victorine bends down, exposing her ample chest, and whispers in his ear. His eyes light up.
“It’s my understanding you skipped the challenge tonight. You realize it’s mandatory.”
“I’m not a child, nor do I answer to anyone in the Academy.”
“You’re posing as a student at this school, aren’t you?”
I cross my arms over my chest. “Yes.”
“I’ll send a messenger with your punishment in the morning.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Not in the slightest.” He leans back, the chair creaking under his weight. “The rules apply just as much to you, Valkyrie, as everyone else.”
