Chapter 30
An Unmasking
‘T essa?’ I say, shock and confusion flooding me as I stare at the shape of a body on the ground between us, their face turned away. Then I look back at her, heart juddering behind my ribs, and close my fingers around my switchblade. ‘What— Did you do that?’
She smiles tightly in a way I’ve never seen before, her features all wrong, all pinched and cold, like someone has rearranged the soul that shines out beneath. ‘You seem surprised, Sophia.’
‘I— What—’ I swallow quickly, barely believing what I’m seeing, the evidence laid out before me.
Tessa is the murderer? Suddenly a wash of memories click together like puzzle pieces, how she is a masquier, a powerful one, how she said the person seemed broad and tall that night outside Hope Hall as they murdered a hopeful, but how I was sure they were slight, how we all assumed it was a man …
How much pressure there must be on her, with her family descending from one of the founders of the school.
And how she would do anything – anything – to ensure Greg survives.
Would she kill us off, one by one, so he is guaranteed a place in the final twenty?
I can hardly fathom it. My friend, someone I trust, someone I care for …
how could I have been so wrong? Dread grips my stomach.
It means it wasn’t real between us, and that she only befriended me to get her and Greg through, because I was useful, a pawn—
No. I can’t believe it of her, I just can’t.
Despite her standing there now, the damning evidence laid before me.
This can’t be right. Despite what I’m seeing, despite the puzzle pieces forming this image of Tessa Godolphin as a murderer, ruthless, cunning, plotting to step into my Ordeal and deliver a swift death …
it cannot be right. I refuse to accept it.
I know her heart, I’m sure of it. And then I remember, the murder of Fernstine, the woman shoved down the staircase at Hope, the botanist …
Tessa walked into Hope Hall after it happened.
It can’t have been her. Cold trickles over me as I slowly look down, to the body on the floor.
The unmoving body, dressed in a wool jacket, huddled on their side, clip in her hair …
Oh gods.
That’s Tessa.
I gasp, the horror of this moment sinking in as magic ripples out in ribbons, and the actual person, the true murderer stands before me, just feet away. I unpick the mask, the illusion to discern who it really is, and my stomach twists.
Tessa, my Tessa is lying on her side, unmoving. And standing over her, hands raised, a slow smiling curling over her mouth—
‘Fion.’
‘We’re not meant to wander into each other’s final Ordeals, you know …
but I couldn’t let Tessa walk out of here.
And once I figured out how it was so easy to just slip into anyone else’s Ordeal …
I couldn’t resist. Tessa’s final Ordeal is just as you’d expect really, lots of not living up to her family’s expectations, the glory of the Godolphin name, tarnished, Greg nearly dying so she has to save him blah, blah …
but yours is unexpected. Human blood? A dilapidated house in the city?
Is this where you’re from, Sophia? She did try to stop me from walking in here, but I guess now we know who the stronger wielder is.
Not the descendent of a founder, it seems.’
My eyes dart between Fion and Tessa, who groans, turning slightly so she’s on her back, eyes opening for a heartbeat, then fluttering closed.
My stomach gives another desperate, anguished twist as she falls completely still.
If we’re all meant to be in our own Ordeals, fighting our own personal demons, Fion really shouldn’t be here.
Neither of them should. I swallow, wondering how to distract Fion so I can help Tessa because …
She’s real.
‘You’re much less of a threat than Tessa, but then it never hurts to eliminate another hopeful, I suppose,’ she says, angling her head to the side, considering me.
‘And you did piss me off the other day. Sniggering with this one in class.’ She toes Tessa’s body again and fury, cold, calculating fury douses my entire body.
She shrugs, as though I am nothing, as though Tessa is nothing, and steps over her body.
‘I guess I can kill two birds with one stone.’
‘You’re fucking dead —’ I spit and, twisting my hand in the air, I cut out all the light in the room. To her, there is only darkness.
‘Oh … nice trick,’ she says, as though in genuine admiration. ‘Are we playing hide-and-seek?’
‘Yes, you seek and I’ll hide this blade in your chest ,’ I grit out and duck, sidestepping to the left before leaping for her.
Tackling her to the floor, I smash my knuckles into her nose and hear the satisfying crunch of bone.
Her head snaps back, hitting the floor, and I pin her down, angling my blade for her ribs—
The window explodes inwards. Thorns wrap around my arm, twisting and pulsing in a vice-like grip, yanking me up, away from Fion.
I cry out, blood dripping from the places where the thorns have dug deep.
Pain, sharp and quick, leaves me gasping and I whip towards the window, seeing what Fion’s done.
What she’s capable of. The roses, the leafy, slumbering garden is a riot of twisting life, the rose bushes splayed across the street, clawing at the smashed window, clamouring for me.
More thorns wrap my chest, and I pass my blade to the opposite hand, sawing at them desperately as they squeeze.
My illusion, the darkness I managed to summon sputters out around us, and Fion stands, blood gushing down her face as she grins at me.
Her eyes are manic and I realise my mistake.
I’m not dealing with someone who plays by the rules.
This woman strayed into Tessa’s final Ordeal.
She’s here to kill her, and anyone who gets in her way. She’s here to win.
She tests her nose delicately with her fingers and hisses.
‘Probably broken,’ she says thickly. ‘At least it will be more convincing when I tell the professors how you and Tessa tried to kill me, banding together, finding your way into my final Ordeal, until I did what I had to do. The only thing I could do.’
‘You’re mad,’ I say, flinching as more thorns pin my left ankle, cutting deep, cutting to the bone …
I sway on the spot, nausea clawing up my throat from the pain, but force myself to focus on her.
Fion. Hopeful killer. Murderer. ‘That tea, was that you? Was that actually meant for Frances, or for me?’
‘Frances?’ She chuckles, the sound unnaturally high and grating as she takes a handkerchief from her pocket, dabbing at the blood on her face.
‘Yes, her very existence is a sin, what she is, the monster inside her. You were hardly on my radar. I was aiming for Knox. Can’t have an alchemist swooping in to steal all the glory.
’ She shakes her head. ‘That place is mine . When the Great Hunt begins, I will be waiting to open the gates for them. Me. And if I’m indispensable, the strongest wielder in our year, the professors will never suspect.
They’ll hand me the keys. And the gods will look on, and bless me. ’
‘ Bless you? You really think the gods—’ I shake my head, trying to piece this together. This is about the gods?’
She smirks. ‘You think you and Knox and Alden are the only hopefuls with anything else going on here?’ She snorts, touching her lips, running her index finger over them.
‘I’ve waited my whole life for this. Alloway placed me in the right schools in your territory as a child, did you know that?
When the cold ones come, when the Great Hunt begins, Alloway will be ready.
I will win them a territory and we will remove the scourge of magic from our world.
The church will worship me. I am Argus reborn.
I am justice . I will use the divine magic gifted to me only for this purpose.
To serve. For Alloway . And when I have completed my purpose, the gods will welcome me amongst them. ’
I shake my head slowly, trying to comprehend what she’s saying, what she’s claiming.
Then I remember the chapel, how the candles were always lit, as though someone at Killmarth visited regularly, someone devout, a believer …
She fixes her eyes on me. ‘I will deliver Kellend and Theine from the darkness with my divine gifts. Alloway will reign, and the cold ones will aid us.’
I notice Tessa stir behind her, but Fion hasn’t spotted the movement. She’s too intent on me, on the thorns she’s summoned with her botany wielding. The relief, the sheer relief hits me. She’s not dead. Tessa’s alive.
Suddenly, I feel my magic welling within me, determination and power flooding me.
I wrench my gaze from my friend and focus back on Fion.
‘So you take out me and Tessa, and what? Is Alden next? He’s got to be a stronger botanist than you.
What can you do, summon a few rose plants?
I hear Killmarth needs a new groundskeeper.
The professors won’t want you here. You won’t be the strongest wielder.
No one will trust you; they’ll see you for what you are.
You may as well give up now, your divine gifts are so ordinary.
Nothing special.’ She hisses, opening her mouth to speak, but something occurs to me.
‘It was you, wasn’t it? The night of the masquier ball … ’
She eyes me quietly. ‘The cold one? She was hungry. Caught the scent of a wielder, needed to feed.’ She shrugs. ‘The least I could do for an ally of Alloway.’