I couldn't get back to Earth fast enough after the knighting ceremony – after making sure everybody was okay, of course. All my friends and family were miraculously unharmed. They'd been shoved to safety as soon as the Inkbloods stormed in. Which meant they hadn't seen most of the conflict, since there was no way the guards would let any of them try to intervene. Not even Kadia could convince them to let her help. That was fine by me. But, still, everything was a lot more serious now.

  Dad kept asking me if I'd been hurt or forced into some dark ritual. He was about ready to rip off all the Inkbloods' heads. And the conversation we had with Mom after getting home was even worse. It went on for what felt like hours. She had about a hundred questions, and was adamant on having every little detail recounted. I didn't want to scare either of them, but there wasn't much I could do to assuage their concerns. They were worried this was going to happen more often. That I wouldn't be able to go anywhere, or do anything, without being put in grave danger. I was kind of worried about that, too, but I tried not to dwell on it much. It wouldn't change anything.

  As I y in bed that night, I kept repying everything that happened over and over again in my mind. I wondered what the public would think about this. Maybe they'd think I was a coward. Or a liar. Or maybe they were discussing whether or not I'd be a suitable sacrifice to pcate Vhinrud's tyranny. Regardless, I knew this couldn't bode well for my reputation. Or for my sanity. But at least it was over. I was alive. That was what mattered most. The question remained, though: what did Vhinrud need me for?

  It took me forever to fall asleep, but eventually I succumbed to exhaustion.

  My mind was elsewhere the next morning. I couldn't focus on almost anything. Which wasn't great, considering I had csses to attend. I walked through Oceanside's hallways, taking the same path I always did, until I reached my locker. The headphones on my head weren't even pying anything. The noise-cancelling was more of a comfort than any song could've been. I fiddled with the dial on my locker and pulled it open.

  Suddenly, for the first time that day, I felt completely awake. My jaw dropped.

  Staring at me from behind my locker door was a bouquet of flowers, all wrapped in cellophane and held together with a silver ribbon. I froze. They were beautiful, and all in various shades of light purple: wisteria, hydrangeas, lics, roses. There was a little white note card tucked in among them. I gently took it out and opened it.

  Chloe,

  Happy Valentine’s Day! I hope these aren't too much. And I hope you like them. I’ll be honest, I’ve rewritten this note about six times now. I know I’m pretty far from poetic... But I do know that I like you.

  – Luke

  I felt my cheeks turn bright pink as my heartbeat quickened. It was Valentine's Day. And I'd totally, completely forgotten.

  My hand slowly closed around the card. It was Luke's handwriting, there was no question about that. My stomach churned with excitement. This was a lot. Was it a joke? I shook my head to dismiss the thought. Luke was sweet. And a good guy. And he really, genuinely cared about me. A wave of warmth washed over me, followed by an overwhelming sense of anxiety.

  I bit my lip and gnced over my shoulder. Luke stood about ten feet away, leaning against a row of lockers. His backpack was slung over one shoulder. He grinned and waved when he noticed me looking, then made his way over.

  I didn't give him a chance to speak before throwing my arms around his shoulders in a tight hug. It just felt like the natural thing to do. He ughed and hugged me back, lifting me up slightly off the ground.

  "You like them, I take it?" he asked. "I almost got you chocote, too, but I know you don't really like chocote unless it's in ice cream, so..."

  "They're perfect," I replied, pulling away. "But you didn't have to do that, really. Thank you. And I'm sorry... I feel terrible. I didn't even remember what day it was. If I'd remembered, I would've gotten something for you."

  He chuckled. "Don't worry about that. I know we're not, y'know, together. So it's not like I was expecting anything. I just wanted to make sure you knew."

  "Knew what?"

  "That you're important to me."

  I smiled, albeit a little shyly. "Well, the feeling's mutual."

  We locked gazes, neither one of us willing to let go of the other's eyes. For a split second, it looked like he might lean forward. I thought, maybe, I would've let him. But the moment passed. He cleared his throat and took a small step back.

  "Um, I hope you don't mind that I asked Spencer for your locker combo. I promise I've already forgotten it."

  "Oh, yeah, not at all," I said. "And, seriously, thanks. These are so pretty. …Would you let me take you out to dinner or something tonight? It's the least I could do."

  Luke's face flushed slightly. "You don't have to do that."

  "I know I don't. But I'd like to," I insisted with a firm nod.

  He seemed surprised by my boldness, but recovered quickly. "All right, twist my rubber arm. How about eight-thirty? That okay?"

  "Absolutely."

  He grinned, but only for a second before a weary expression crossed his face. "Honestly, any excuse to be out of the house tonight is a good one. Dean's got a dy friend coming over, and she's not exactly...quiet. If you know what I mean."

  My brows lifted. "Oh. Yikes."

  "Yeah, yikes." He cringed. "My room's not far enough away. At least not with my hearing."

  I gave his arm a sympathetic pat. "Then it's a good thing I'm gonna steal you away for a while. I'm sure you deserve a break."

  He ughed softly. "You have no idea. Oh, and, I meant to ask– How is that thing going? The thing you told me almost nothing about when we went to the boardwalk. Why you missed Spencer's art gallery. How's that been treating you?"

  "Oh... About the same," I replied vaguely, shrugging. My gaze dropped to the floor. "I still can't talk about it. Just know that...it's a lot, and it's stressful, but I'm handling it. So, don't worry."

  "You're sure?" he asked with a small frown.

  I nodded.

  "Okay. If you say so. Well, if there's ever anything I can do to help, let me know. Even if you can't tell me the whole story."

  "Thanks, Luke," I said quietly. "I appreciate that."

  He offered a reassuring smile, then reached down to squeeze my hand once. "Of course. Anytime. I'll see you in kinesiology?"

  "Yep. See you soon."

  With a wink, he turned and headed off. I watched him until he was gone from sight. Then I let out a sigh, my mind swimming. He was so... Ugh. Why did he have to be so cute, and kind, and thoughtful? How was he even single? Not that I was compining. I wasn't compining in the slightest. If this was how he treated a girl he wasn't even dating, I couldn't help but wonder how he'd be if we were officially together. But I hadn't allowed myself to dream very much about that.

  Lunchtime rolled around. By the time it had, I was back to mulling over the Inkbloods' most recent attack. Vhinrud wanted something from me. That was the only thing that made sense. I just didn't know what. Was he going to take me as a hostage? Money didn't really seem to be an issue for him. Did he want to turn me into an Inkblood? My birthmark would've prevented that, and he seemed to know that it would be impossible, try as he did on Ashkan. Did he want me to join his side nonetheless? Had Balgaur told him I was a hunter? Would he even care? Maybe he thought I was more powerful than I really was. In the end, he got what he seemed to actually want: the rapier. And he broke it. All that trouble over a shattered weapon. Maybe that was some sort of symbolism. Maybe he'd done it to mock me. Maybe it was supposed to be some kind of message. Or, maybe, I was just–

  SMACK.

  I turned a corner and walked straight into a pilr, my forehead knocking against it with a dull jolt of pain. My thoughts came to an abrupt halt. I reeled backwards and blinked away a sudden wave of stars. The half-finished iced tté in my hand from that morning crushed beneath the force of the collision, the pstic cup cracking as cold coffee spilled down the front of my shirt.

  "Agh, shit..." I muttered.

  I dropped the cup in a nearby trash can, then looked up and around. The cafeteria was packed as usual – but it wasn't hectic enough for my stumble to go unnoticed. About twenty sets of eyes stared back at me with varying expressions. Some were amused, some confused, but none were as sharp as those from the table directly to my right.

  Farrah, Ivy, and the rest of their little coven looked up at me with a mixture of disdain, judgment, and thinly veiled delight.

  "Maybe look where you're going next time," Ivy piped up, tilting her head.

  A different girl added, "Or don't."

  "That's a good colour on you," another chimed in. "Coffee is kind of in this year, I think."

  "Definitely an improvement."

  "Very chic."

  "Smells better, too."

  The table burst into giggles and snickers. I could feel myself reddening with each sarcastic comment. And through it all, Farrah simply sat there quietly, looking satisfied with herself. Her green eyes lingered on mine the longest, one perfectly sculpted brow arched skyward. A wordless challenge. She knew she didn't have to say a thing. The scornful faces of the other girls said it for her.

  My jaw clenched as I gred down at them. Part of me wanted to sh out. Call them a bunch of idiots. Storm off. Make them wish they hadn't been so rude. But the other part knew that doing so would be pointless. Their type relished any sign of anger. It only goaded them into attacking. So I had a decision to make. Either rise to the bait, which they'd enjoy immensely, or bow out of the exchange and let them revel in what was absolutely a small victory.

  Move on. Move on; it's the only option; no matter how much you want to deck them, you can't. It doesn't matter. You can't do anything about it, so just don't let them get to you. Don't. Let. Them.

  I gave a derisive scoff and rolled my eyes, resisting the urge to throw a barb back at them, however petty. "Kick rocks."

  With that, I briskly turned on my heel and walked away, leaving them behind. Another burst of ughter rose up behind me. I tuned it out and focused on finding my friends instead.

  They were already settled in a nook at the far end of the cafeteria. I made a beeline over to them, plopping down in the empty seat beside Lauren. She instantly noticed the stains on my shirt.

  "Oh no, what happened?" she excimed.

  "Weirdly enough, walking into a pilr," I answered. "It's just coffee."

  "Are you okay?" Spencer craned her neck around Joel to get a better view.

  "Fine. Mostly just embarrassed."

  Jess leaned her forearms onto the table. "Don't worry, I'm sure nobody noticed."

  "Nobody but Farrah's clique," I muttered.

  Reese and Niki winced.

  "Sorry," the tter offered sympathetically.

  "It shouldn't be noticeable once it dries," Reese added.

  "You wanna go punch her?" Joel asked, lowering his burger to look at me. "I'll watch your six."

  I shook my head and bit the inside of my cheek. "No... It's okay. She's not worth the bruised knuckles. What were you guys talking about before I got here?"

  Spencer tilted her head thoughtfully, but decided to follow my lead and change the topic. "I was just venting about how the clothing line I'm working on with your mom's bel is making me question all of my life decisions."

  "Don't be dramatic, Spitfire," Joel said, patting her shoulder. "It's gonna be fine. And I'm sure you guys'll sell out."

  "No, it's not that. I want to do this. I'm going to do this. It's just designing the actual graphics that's stressing me out," she sighed. "I was hoping I'd get it out of the way quickly, but now it's like it's taking forever. Nothing I draw is exactly right. I think I've tried four or five different concepts by now and none of them are good enough."

  Reese's eyebrows rose. "They haven't told you what they want?"

  "It's not that cut-and-dried," Joel interjected.

  Spencer nodded. "There's loads more to think about than just the subject, y'know? Colour palette. Lines. Proportions. Incorporating their logo. What the fabrics will be like. I can't just make a quick sketch and call it a day."

  "Maybe you need to take a step back. Recharge," Jess proposed, taking a sip of her soda.

  "She's right," I agreed. "Take your mind off it for a few days."

  Spencer chewed on her lower lip for a moment. "Hmm. Yeah, maybe. You might have a point. Art has to come from somewhere organic. Inspired. And if I keep banging my head against this wall, it'll only be a matter of time before I go crazy."

  "That's the spirit." Joel smiled and wrapped his arm across her back. Then, he turned his attention to me. "So. Lancelot sent you flowers, huh? You seem...less stoked about it than I thought you'd be."

  I ughed incredulously. "Who?"

  "Oh, he's finally been inducted into your weird nickname game?" Niki asked with a grin.

  "It's about time," Lauren chimed in.

  He shrugged. "I had to think of something fitting. What else would it be? He's the perfect mix of dashing, polite, and noble. That's a knight in shining armour if I ever saw one."

  "Subtle," Reese commented dryly.

  "Am I known to be particurly subtle?" he retorted, his palm flying to his chest in mock offense. "Anyway, Luke's my bro. I'm proud of him."

  "Was it as perfect as you'd hoped it'd be?" Spencer interrogated me with a knowing look.

  I rolled my eyes a little. "I wasn't expecting anything. The whole thing took me by surprise. But, yes, it was really sweet. And I feel horrible that I didn't get him anything, because I forgot, but we're getting dinner tonight. If that counts."

  "Aw, Chlo, that sounds perfect," Jess said. "Don't stress. It sounds like you're gonna make the guy's whole year."

  Joel chuckled. "The poor sap has it bad. Even though he'll never admit it, even to me."

  "Maybe you shouldn't bring it up. I don't want him to be pressured into anything," I replied.

  "Look, I'm not gonna meddle," he assured, lifting his hands up. "As long as you don't hurt my boy, I won't have any part in what's going on. You deserve each other. Might intervene if he starts stringing you along, though."

  Lauren prodded, "Yeah, when do you think he'll be your boyfriend? I've had bets going for a couple months now, but who knows how long you guys will drag it out."

  My heart sped up slightly. "I don't know... We've only been on one date; it's too soon. Luke could still change his mind. I could too."

  "Would a guy send a girl he didn't want to date flowers?" she pointed out.

  Right as I opened my mouth to answer, a voice behind me quickly stole my attention.

  "Did I hear my name?"

  Everyone's eyes shifted past me to the newcomer. Luke strode up beside the table, looking faintly amused.

  "Just gossiping about you," Joel answered bluntly.

  He grinned. "Colour me shocked. Well, don't let me interrupt."

  Spencer corrected, "He's kidding. Grab a seat, dude!"

  With a small nod, Luke moved to do just that. He slid into the empty space beside me and nudged my arm. The touch sent a rush of warmth to my face.

  "How's it going?" he asked, turning his head towards me.

  I shrugged. "All right. I ran into a pilr, so there's that..."

  His eyes widened. "Wait, what? You're okay, though?"

  "Yep, fine. I'll live." I motioned vaguely to the stains. "My shirt on the other hand, not so much."

  "Hold on. I have an idea." He abruptly leaned away, then pulled the burgundy zip-up hoodie he was wearing off his frame and offered it to me. "Here."

  "What? No, no, I can't do that," I protested.

  "You can," he replied with a chuckle.

  I hesitated for a moment, then yielded and slid the garment over my shoulders. The soft cotton was warm, and the sleeves hung a little long. But it smelled good. Like spices. Like him. And when I zipped it up, the coffee stains were completely hidden.

  "Better?" Luke wondered.

  "Much," I agreed. "Thank you."

  He smiled, and the expression made my heart melt a little. It was one that lit up his entire face and crinkled the corners of his eyes. One that made me smile back. One that made him look almost painfully cute.

  "You two are gonna give me a toothache," Joel groaned, pulling an exaggerated face. "Quit being so adorable."

  Without missing a beat, Luke retorted, "Why'd you help me pick out the flowers, then?"

  He blinked, then smirked. "All right, Lancey. You win this duel. Can we go back to talking about how Farrah needs a swift kick in the ass? I swear, I wouldn't have–"

  Luke sat up straighter. "What'd she do now?"

  "Same as always," Jess huffed. "Picking on Chloe."

  "Seriously, it's not worth talking about," I said quickly.

  He frowned, then turned his gaze to me. It was filled with concern. "What did she say?"

  "Nothing, actually. She just... She and her friends were right there when I smacked into the pilr, and they all ughed at me. Which isn't a big deal. I'm just annoyed that they saw."

  "It is a big deal, though," Spencer insisted, crossing her arms. "She's such a bitch. They all are."

  Luke's jaw clenched. But after a few seconds, he exhaled and stared down at the table. "I think...Ivy and the rest of them are the real problem. I've never liked any of those other girls, but Ivy's a real piece of work. They've always been bad. Farrah just...started doing whatever they did. I've never been able to get a straight answer out of her as to why."

  "I don't really think you have to. She's not going to change," Niki said.

  "Maybe not, but..." he trailed off.

  Lauren’s eyebrows furrowed. "Why're you defending her all of a sudden?"

  "I'm not," he crified. "I know she can be a jerk. Just like I know she can be nice when she wants to be. But...I had a chat with her yesterday. We both said some stuff. About a lot of things. It was long overdue. She actually apologized, too. For a lot – including what happened at her birthday party. I honestly don't know if I can forgive her or not, but she seemed genuine at least. I'm not trying to justify anything she's done or condone any sort of harassment. It's just..."

  "You guys have a history," Joel finished.

  "Right. Exactly." Luke looked almost pained. "And maybe it's wrong of me to wonder if we could be friends again, after everything, but I can't help it. I'm not asking you guys to like her. Or even understand. But maybe, if I managed to talk some sense into her, things might not be so awful. Maybe she'll grow up a bit."

  The table fell silent. There was a collective shift in the mood. No one knew what to say, least of all me. On the one hand, I could understand Luke's rationale. It was just like him to want to see the good in people. To try to help them, even if it wasn't in his best interest. He wasn't the type of person who gave up on someone. But on the other hand, it seemed like a futile effort. Farrah didn't deserve it. She didn't deserve his concern. His empathy. It almost felt like a betrayal. I knew that was childish. Luke wasn't mine to get angry at, and if he wanted to give his friendship a second chance, I shouldn't have been the one to stop him. It just made my skin crawl a little. I couldn't stop imagining Farrah luring him back into her trap. She'd tug at his heartstrings and tell him exactly what he wanted to hear: 'I've learned my lesson.' 'I'm still working on myself.' 'It was all a big mistake.'

  I could see it now: they'd have a heart-to-heart. She'd shed a few tears and tell him how much she missed him. How much she missed their friendship. And they'd reminisce about the good times. They'd ugh together. Then they'd be friends again. And Luke would gradually fade out of my life. She'd monopolize his time. He'd have less and less to do with me. Until, eventually, we were strangers again. And that thought, more than any of the others, was what made my heart sink.

  "…Well, if that's what you're hoping for, you're an optimist," Reese said bluntly after the pause.

  Jess nodded. "A real one."

  Luke seemed to notice that I'd fallen quiet, and bumped my shoulder gently with his. "Of course, that's not to say I'll ever be cool with what's been happening. I'd never excuse any of that. I just thought...I'd extend the olive branch, y'know? Try to see if there was something to salvage there."

  Something inside me softened. There it was again. That willingness to see the light in someone, even when the odds were stacked against him. It was impossible to stay upset, or even just disappointed. Not when Luke was so achingly sincere.

  "If you think it's worth a try, then go for it." I caught his eye, then smiled. "Just be careful, okay?"

  "Always," he promised.

  Satisfied, I turned my attention back to the rest of the group. My friends' faces were varied – ranging from pensive, to nonchant, to conflicted – but none of them looked upset. Or disappointed.

  "Just, if she starts talking shit, you'll tell us?" Spencer prompted. "And you won't take it lying down?"

  Luke ughed. "Absolutely. If she even tries it, she'll get an earful and nothing less."

  Joel smirked. "She better."

  The tension dissolved, and we were able to shift the topic onto lighter matters. But there was a nagging thought in the back of my head that kept returning. Even after we all parted ways; even as I walked home from school – it persisted. A voice that murmured doubts and questions into my ears. And the worst part was, I could never quite manage to banish it for long. What if Farrah's apology really was genuine? What if she changed? What if Luke started falling for her...? Maybe he'd think Farrah was a better choice than I was. A smarter choice. Maybe he thought he could save her. Maybe...

  Would he be happier with her? In the long run? Someone whose life isn't regurly being threatened? Who doesn't have a giant secret to hide?

  No. I shook my head vigorously. You know he likes you. And you like him. Don't doubt yourself now. There's no reason for that. You're going to go out with him tonight and it'll be great. And if he decides, for whatever reason, that you're not what he's looking for, that's his decision to make, and you're going to respect it. That's how this works.

  A small fme sparked to life in the dark recesses of my ribcage.

  But you'll be damned if you make it easy for her to wedge herself back in his heart.

  Attending csses at the Academy had become much more tiresome since the attack in the Chaplet Amphitheatre. Even though the professors wanted the events to go unmentioned, every other student wanted to talk about it. It was all too juicy a topic to bury. Lodestar’s coverage and involvement had exploded. So, gossip abounded. Ashkan, Shaye, and I were all three regur fodder for whispers and looks from every direction. An event so public and broadcasted couldn't just be forgotten. Especially with so much of the audience being our schoolmates. That's why this time felt miles different than any other period of rumours I'd been at the centre of. Before, it felt a bit like a game. A wryly amusing series of events. People were specuting. Having a ugh. The students were all bored, and it gave them something to occupy their attention. But now, it was something more sinister. An actual source of potential danger. A piece of worrying news to consume. A bitter pill to swallow, putting it mildly.

  'Brielle is being targeted,' the gossip went. 'What if it's any of us next time? What if this is a prelude to a war? Will there be a lockdown? What does this mean for our families? Will the King step in?'

  The three of us had been collectively wracking our brains over the motives behind the attack. None of us had reached a solid conclusion, though there was some tentative agreement that this wasn't going to be an isoted incident. King Typhis still hadn't publicized Vhinrud's name. I figured he didn't want the general public getting riled up. His advisors were probably trying to figure out a good spin on it while they scoured tomes for more information on the elusive raven-haired man. But the monarch's reluctance to provide much expnation beyond 'an enemy of the realm' didn't stop us from telling our friends everything we knew that could help keep them safe. It would only be a matter of time before this completely blew up, anyway. Until the name Vhinrud became a household one.

  Of course, revealing anything that I'd learned through the League was completely off the table. Ashkan and I wouldn't have acceptable lies as to how we knew so much about Inkbloods. However, we were able to emphasize how probable it was that their leader was the one targeting us – the same man that had tortured Ashkan. We told the group that he wanted our neckces, even though that theory had been losing validity since the events at the Amphitheatre. We underscored that we had to be extremely vigint from here on out, and they had to do the same. We needed to keep each other safe. Maybe His Majesty wanted to wait until he knew more before going totally public, but I refused to keep my closest friends in the dark. They deserved to know. Ignorance would only make them easier targets. I could only pray they never had to be face-to-face with a hostile Inkblood.

  Despite the revetion of such sensitive information, I still maintained private conversations with Ash concerning the details of what we'd seen in the arena. We both agreed that the hostages were likely intended to be turned into Inkbloods, if not simply bargaining chips for Vhinrud's escape. Some had already died in hospitals from murk poisoning. I was crushed when I heard the news. And furious. They had families, friends. People who loved them. And Vhinrud hadn't even batted an eye as he let them get devoured by curses. It was revolting. The rest of the victims were still in critical condition, apparently trying to fight off mental decay while rambling about heinous desires and nightmares. There was a block of cement sitting on my chest. Knowing there was nothing more I could do was like a dagger between my shoulder bdes.

  "Brielle?"

  The sound of my name pulled me out of my brooding. I lifted my head off my arms, which were folded atop the outdoor wooden table, to find Viktor looking at me expectantly. Shaye, Ash, Miseris, Ivahr, Lilwen, and Cassius were doing the same, as if waiting for a response to an inquiry I hadn't heard.

  I sat up and ran my fingers through my hair. "What? Sorry."

  "Just wondering if you've thought of any other reasons why he might've targeted you the way he did," Viktor repeated patiently. "I'm really having a tough time getting my head around this."

  Cassius nodded. "It's bizarre how the focus seemed so...personal. Yet strangely benign."

  Lilwen quickly added, "We know this must be very stressful for all three of you. We only wish to understand and help where we can. If we can lessen this burden in any way..." She gnced at the rest of the group. "I have always been of the mind that the more heads, the better."

  I offered a weak smile. "It means a lot. But there's nothing else I can really say. We've been discussing it, and we can't find much of an expnation. Maybe he just wants to be dramatic. If his whole thing is trying to get a rise out of the public, this might not mean much more than that."

  "I doubt it's that simple." Ashkan pursed his lips and shook his head. "There's too much detail involved."

  Ivahr's fist curled and hit the table with a thud. "If I could get my hands on that bastard, I swear..."

  "Makes me downright sick," Miseris agreed with a scowl. "No one deserves what he did. It's beyond evil. How could a person be that cold-hearted?"

  Viktor leaned back and stretched. "This is beyond any of our experience. But this type of situation demands investigation, no matter what the end result may be. And if my friends are at the epicentre, I'm not going to sit around with my arms crossed and watch it happen."

  Shaye spoke up for the first time with a bitter tone and tensed shoulders, "We aren't asking you to. It's our necks on the line."

  He blinked in surprise, then answered, "Hey, now. I only mean to say that we're not going to be idle in the face of this. We're with you one hundred percent. Whatever that means for us. Right, guys?" He looked around the table with a meaningful gaze, then grinned when he got murmurs and nods of confirmation. "See? That's what we're all about. I'm not sure how we'll be able to contribute, but we've got your backs."

  My smile turned a little stronger, but was tinged with mencholy. It was impossible for me to put into words how grateful I felt. That my friends cared enough about us to want to help us through this awful ordeal meant everything. The gesture wasn't lost on me. But I also knew, deep in my soul, that there was little to nothing any of them could do. At least I trusted they'd keep the secrets of our predicament. And I'd do everything I could to keep them all out of the crosshairs.

  "I really appreciate that. You have no idea. We'll keep you guys in the loop as we can," I said earnestly.

  Ivahr chuckled. "That's better than what the Crown will do."

  "Isn't it?" Miseris commented with a huff. "The media can't stop reporting on the attack, yet all of them have been saying the exact same thing. King Typhis doesn't want us panicking. But I'm sorry, what does telling us next to nothing actually do?"

  Ashkan cut in, "He's not going to say much more until he has more answers. There's no point. But the dey is frustrating, for sure."

  "Right. He's known about Vhinrud at least since your abduction," Cassius said with a nod. "Which means he's had a good amount of time to put some pieces together. It makes no sense that we're only getting snippets. Does he think that simply notifying us exactly who we need watch out for will start a war?"

  "Oh, we could sit here and specute all day. I doubt it would do any of us much good." Lilwen sighed lightly. "We must remain very cautious indeed. Beyond that, it lies in His Majesty's hands. I just want you three to be safe, and to know that you are not alone. I would hate for any further harm to come to you. It would be devastating."

  The rest of the table concurred, and a short-lived but heartfelt conversation of affection and solidarity followed. As I listened to each of my friends assure us that they would help however they could, and that we would get through this, the weight on my shoulders seemed to ease. It was the closest I'd ever felt to them. I wasn't sure I'd ever be able to fully express how thankful I was. But I sure as hell wasn't going to stop trying.

  "De Mavset!"

  My ears perked. I looked over my shoulder towards the source of the shout. And lo and behold, the person who had called out was Cude. He was striding towards me, a stern expression on his face. I noticed a few of his underlings fnking him, as always.

  "Think we wouldn't find out? That we're all blind?" His footfalls became faster as he neared our table from all the way across the courtyard. He resembled a bull rushing at a red fg.

  The air shifted. I stood to face him. But before I had the chance to even ask for crification, his palm shot out, and my left hand was wrenched forward by an unseen force. The spell then roughly pushed the sleeves of my overcoat, sweater, and shirt up to my elbow.

  My blood turned to ice. I struggled against his magic to no avail; the window for a counter-spell had closed. All I could do was hastily cmp my right hand over the obsidian cuff that was now revealed to everyone: my friends, Cude, his posse, and anyone else nearby who was watching the drama unfold.

  The table behind me erupted into excmations of shock and anger.

  "What is wrong with you?" Shaye seethed. "Let go of her!"

  Lilwen sounded appalled. "How dare you!"

  Ashkan demanded, "What do you think you're doing?"

  Various other outcries filled the space, and the energy was rapidly turning hostile. The weight that had been lifted off my shoulders moments earlier had come crashing back down. I couldn't believe what was happening. This couldn't be real. This could not be real. My brain couldn't keep up.

  "How do you expin this?" Cude questioned, his face twisting in disgust. "Why are you wearing something that indicates allegiance with the enemy?"

  My left arm shot straight up into the air. I continued to struggle.

  "Stop that!" Shaye yelled, rushing over. Her hand came up, and she cast out a spell. His magic shattered. She quickly positioned herself between me and Cude, arms outstretched, as if to shield me. I desperately re-covered my bangle.

  Cude stared past her. "How long has it been? What are you pnning?"

  "Piss off," Ashkan spat as he came around to stand next to Shaye. "She doesn't need to expin a thing to you."

  Cude didn't flinch. He just flicked his hand in an attempt to shove them aside. But Shaye's magic was ready, and it countered his jinx in a matter of milliseconds.

  "This has nothing to do with you. Now back off," Ashkan ordered.

  "The safety of our entire country has everything to do with this," he countered. "Why are you protecting her? You're complicit! We're all in danger because of this!" He gestured wildly at Lilwen, Miseris, Ivahr, and Cassius, who were standing frozen somewhere behind me. "Look at her wrist and tell me she's innocent!"

  "...What is he talking about, Brielle?" Miseris' tone was worried and uncertain.

  Lilwen was next, and it almost sounded like she was pleading. "This cannot be."

  Ivahr followed. "Why do you have one of those things? How...?"

  Finally, Cassius. "No, there must be a good expnation."

  I was spiralling. It was a free fall. They were all staring at me in horror, fear, confusion, disappointment – emotions that cut right through me. I couldn't form the words. I could only stammer, and stumble. And watch their faith in me shatter before my eyes.

  "You see? Look at how defensive she is. I'm right." Cude took a few steps back and yelled, "Someone get security! There's a traitor in our midst!"

  A crowd was forming. More whispers. More gasps. I caught sight of navy robes. Two professors. They were heading our way. I felt dizzy. This wasn't supposed to happen. I'd been so careful.

  "What is the meaning of this?" one of the teachers, I recognized as Professor Menn, asked as she strode briskly towards us.

  The other, Professor Humbard, was not far behind. "Students, cease this instant."

  Cude pointed at me. "She's a traitor. A menace. She should be expelled!"

  The first professor gave me a confused look. "A...traitor? To whom, exactly?"

  "That kind of nguage is unfounded, Mr. Staatley. And that type of behaviour will not be tolerated," Professor Humbard scolded. "Everyone, calm down. Expin what happened."

  I stared at the snowy grass while Shaye and Ashkan began verbally cmbering over one another to expin that I wasn't a threat, and Cude was out of line. That he didn't actually know what he'd seen. That there was more to the story. They were talking at break-neck speed and trying to not shout. Somewhat surprisingly, it wasn't long before the others interjected with their own defenses of my character. Everyone's words seemed to mesh and blur together into white noise. It felt like a distant, bad dream.

  And I didn't realize I was running until the winter breeze began stinging my eyes.

  It felt surreal to be making a break for it. Like some part of me knew that there was no point. I couldn't just drop out of school. I couldn't escape. I couldn't rip off the damn shackle, no matter how desperately I wanted to wrench the thing from my flesh. I had no choice in this. It had to be this way. The circumstances had never been my fault, no matter how I was treated. I could only carry the burden I'd been given and keep my head up. There were more things at stake here than just me. If I let go, thousands would fall.

  If Prince Lanzeroth had managed, despite it all, wouldn't I also be able to? Just what would he have to say to me if we could’ve crossed paths? What pearls of wisdom would’ve tumbled out of his mouth, just between the two of us? Would he have understood my pain better than anyone else in the world? His theoretical answers fshed through my mind: penned into a letter, scrawled across a wall, cut into pster, engraved into a thousand different surfaces. For what felt like the hundredth time since reading his tales, I wished I could've known him.

  I could still recall something one of those grimoires contained. An ode, was it? At any rate, the one who'd recorded it cimed that its composer was none other than the Prince himself. A fragment of his thoughts. It had been such a simple yet strange piece, and although I'd been trying to forget it for so many reasons, I found that one verse was impossible not to etch into my brain:

  Solemn repose lies in defiance.

  My steps began to slow. And a fierce resolution formed within me. No, I decided. I couldn't just lie down and accept a cruel reality. That would only help him. Vhinrud. I knew it in my gut. He wanted this. He wanted me to be torn down, disgraced. And he wanted the general popuce to believe that I was their enemy. The more divided, the better. I refused to py along. That meant, first, finding some way to get this infuriating thing off. And then, figuring out how to regain control.

  I could no longer shy away from the reins – cim fear, reluctance, inexperience, whatever it was I'd used as a shield up until now – not if it meant they could be stolen away from me in a single instant. I'd spent too long in the passenger's seat. If I continued, the beast would proceed to drag me further into his maw, inch by agonizing inch. This was my life. I couldn't stand by and let someone else pull the strings. That had to be his strategy; he had to know that if he got me to cower long enough, I'd lose the will to fight. Maybe King Typhis was too afraid to be bold, but I wasn't. I wouldn't let myself be painted a vilin. I wouldn't be the next doomed Prince Lanzeroth. Not while I still had breath in my body.

  "Brielle! Hold up!"

  My thoughts were interrupted by Miseris' shout. She was jogging after me, a concerned expression on her face, my satchel in one hand.

  I came to a halt and waited, surprised that she'd bothered to go after me. When she was near, she stopped to catch her breath. Then she offered the bag. I accepted it gratefully.

  "Thanks," I mumbled.

  "I...figured you...didn't mean...to forget that..." she panted.

  "No, I didn’t." I gnced up and met her eyes, which were fixed on me intently. I swallowed. "I'm sorry about...all that."

  Miseris pursed her lips for a few seconds. Then, she exhaled sharply, as if releasing whatever hesitation was left in her. "That bangle. It's a shadowbane fetter, isn't it?"

  I frowned and nodded.

  "Then... You're... You know how to cast dark spells?" She sounded more perplexed than judgmental, thankfully. "It's...true?"

  "Unfortunately, yeah." My voice was small and quiet. "But it was an accident. Miss Lucera taught me how to, without telling me what it actually was. That's why she hasn't been around for a while. I'm still trying to convince the Headmaster that it's her fault, and that she’s the one who should be in trouble here, not me."

  "Gods, what?" she breathed, brow knitting in astonishment. "That's absurd!"

  I snorted bitterly. "I wish everyone could see that. Anyway, the bracelet was a gift from the King. I had to accept it. So I've been trying my best to hide it from everyone so no one finds out, since obviously this would happen..." I gave a defeated shrug. "Cude caught a glimpse of it a few weeks ago. I tried to lie to him about what it was. But I guess the attack in the Amphitheatre finally set him off. Now he really thinks I'm in cahoots with Vhinrud. And there's nothing I can really do to expin. I don't know why it happened. I don't know why they were after me. And I don't know why they didn't just off me right then and there. But here I am. Alive. And stuck."

  My friend's hand came to rest on my shoulder. I could practically see the gears turning in her brain, a frown set deep in her expression. Finally, she sighed, and said, "It's not fair. But if anyone can make sense of it and pull through, I think it's you." She paused briefly, then went on, "And for what it's worth, I still trust you. And I think the rest of them will come around as well."

  "Why?" The question left my lips before I could stop it.

  "I mean... Why shouldn't they? It's not your fault you have that thing on. Or that a monster of a man has a vendetta against you. The way I see it, the only thing that matters is who you are, not the circumstances in which you got here. We all know you'd never harm us or anyone else, unless you had a good reason. That's all we need."

  Her words sank into my soul, and I found myself wanting to believe her more than anything. My mouth felt dry as I replied, "You’re sure you don't need more convincing than that?"

  She smirked. "I'm here, aren't I? If I was convinced you were in the wrong, I wouldn't be here to tell you that. Besides...my grandfather has one of those too. As long as I've known him, he's worn one. And I've never seen him as a criminal."

  I couldn't have hidden my bewilderment even if I wanted to. "Really?"

  "Really. They aren't just for evil people."

  "It sure seems that way."

  "It isn't. It's easy for the common person to look at this situation and think the worst, but the truth is usually more complicated," Miseris reasoned. "My grandfather used to be an archeologist. A scientist. A researcher. But he studied what was forbidden: the dark. It wasn't to hurt or to cause chaos, but for the sake of knowledge. And he had this little doll, I remember; this cloth figure that looked older than time itself. He'd always say it was from some ancient world before our own. In reality, it was just a relic that's been passed down in my family for centuries. I could never tell as a kid if he was just making up stories or not. I still can’t."

  My eyes narrowed. "The Crown shackled him because of a doll?"

  She chuckled lightly and shook her head. "No. Because of what was inside it. Somehow, nobody had ever thought to cut it open, since it looked like an innocent enough trinket. But the inside was covered in a nguage he couldn't transte. I don't know if he ever found any sources to decipher it; I stopped asking... And that's not even the weirdest part. There was a fragment of bone in there, too. A tiny piece.”

  “From a person?”

  “From a person, he insisted. So, of course, he tried to date it. That's what really got him in hot water with the King, in the end. The bone was old. But older than our history. Grandfather tested it, over and over, because he couldn't believe it himself. And, listen, I don't know how he did it, so I'm not saying his methods were entirely valid. He wasn't exactly the most...grounded individual." She rolled her eyes in slight exasperation. "Either way... He published his findings, against everyone's better judgment. The King back then thought the idea of any old bones surviving this far and for that long was ludicrous. The research was discredited, and his work was deemed bsphemous. But the main problem, really, was his method. I guess there are some dark spells out there that, according to him, are useful for dating specimens that were once alive. I guess that makes sense, considering its ties to death and decay and necromancy. But it's obviously against our ws to learn and practice them. So, as a consequence of dabbling with what he shouldn't have, the King saw fit to force him to wear a fetter just like yours, since his experiments were 'problematic'. As in, it's just more convenient to punish someone who's been belled as 'troublesome' than it is to admit they're right, and to acknowledge that their skills are valuable."

  "...Huh." I found myself lost in thought for a moment. "So... Now what does he do?"

  Miseris folded her arms and gave a slight smile. "These days? He's retired. Lives alone and spends most of his time puttering about in his shed, reading and writing and keeping his pnts alive. And chattering about ancient cultures, protopnets, and other odd things that nobody really believes – except for him. That little doll, he still has it, and still keeps it in a box on a shelf somewhere, as far as I know." Her smile faded. "But at any rate, you know what I mean. It's not your fault you've had this thing thrown onto you. Just because someone practices dark magic doesn't necessarily mean they're up to no good."

  "You'd better not say that too loudly," I cautioned with a wince.

  "Whatever. My psychology professor already thinks I have a screw loose because I like to go against the grain. Might as well give him more proof, right?" she teased. Then, her expression grew more serious. "I don’t know if this will make any sense, but… I think sometimes, all it takes is one thing to destroy, define, or better you. It's your choice how to interpret it."

  "...Thank you," I managed.

  "Don't thank me. It's just what I believe. Now, are you ready to go back? I'm sure Ivahr has long since chased Cude off. Ashkan and Shaye were handling the profs, too. I think they managed to convince them it was all some sort of baseless accusation or something, so you should be in the clear."

  I grinned faintly. "I'm so lucky to have you guys. Really. I couldn't ask for better."

  Miseris ughed. "Yeah, well... You'd better stick around so you can pay us all back sometime. Come on, we need to get going, or we're going to be te for next period. I'm freezing, and I'm sure you're sick of being out in the open."

  We began to walk. But it felt like there were a thousand different unspoken words lurking beneath the surface. There was no concrete solution to this problem. There was no direct path out of this mess. I couldn't see one. I couldn't conjure a perfect pn. What else was there to do except forge on? Ignore the leash until an opportunity for escape arose? It seemed senseless. How was I to move forward when I was always being yanked backwards by one leg?

  I gradually realized that the answer was simpler than I’d thought: I would struggle. I'd fil. I'd resist. I'd push, and fight, and kick, and curse. If the only way to victory was to crawl through the mud, then so be it. I would drag myself to the end by my fingernails if I had to. Anything was better than standing idle, letting others handle every decision and pn, letting someone else direct my life as though I were nothing more than a pawn in some tragic epic. It didn't matter that the odds weren't in my favour. It didn't matter if I was trying to punch above my weight, pitting myself against a behemoth of unfathomable cruelty and power. From now on, I would only see the steps backwards as necessary parts of the dance.

  The uncertainty, the questions, the rumours, the accusations, the fears, the betrayals, the tension – it was all fuel, not detriment. It would all be pieces of the crusade. That much was painfully clear. But it would make me stronger, tougher, sharper, quicker, if I let it. If I stopped sulking in pity, waiting to be told exactly what to do and exactly how to do it, and instead let myself be tempered like a sword. Forged in fme and strife. Honed in battle, despite everything. Poised and ready to be wielded for the coup de grace. I just had to keep going, keep my wits about me, and keep a weather eye out for opportunities, wherever they might hide.

  So, as my feet led me back towards the building I'd abandoned in a hurry, I could feel a new conviction begin to weld itself to my heart. One that felt more sure, more reliable, than anything else in my life at that point. My hold on it was ironcd. The final act of this macabre spectacle was hazy, but obligatory. And the curtain was due to raise. My hand went to the obsidian bangle as though I had the ability to dislodge it from my person in one fell swoop. But I knew that wouldn't be an option, regardless of the strength of my resolve, not until I had control again. For now, its presence would only spur me on.

  I didn't know how I'd break the cuff. I just knew I needed to pull harder.

  Solemn repose lies in defiance...

  So defy.