Chapter Twenty-Nine – TWO DAYS LATER
I knewthings were going to be different, but this is insane.
I’ve barely even seen Ryker during our brief breakfast at the coffee shop, which came to an abrupt end when he received a text message and practically jogged out of the building, leaving both croissants for me. I wound up bringing them back to the tower and sharing with Harper, whose eyes grew saucer-wide as I caught her up to date on everything that happened.
“Holy shit,” she said through a mouthful of chocolate and flaky dough. “So you’re actually dating him now. Ryker Pendragon. Holy fucking fuck. Girl, your life is about to get crazy.”
At the time, I thought I knew what to expect.
Now? Suffice to say I was very, very wrong.
Everyone on campus—students, professors, even the dining staff—looks at me differently now. Even Sage and Aimee have started speaking to me with a newfound respect. No matter how much I keep to myself, sliding under the radar has become an impossibility. It seems that word spreads almost impossibly fast at Crimson Elite, far more so than I ever could have anticipated. Murmurs ignite in clusters whenever I enter a room, and I’m sure they only intensify when I leave.
The buzz follows me everywhere. Girls that I’ve never seen before in my life ask for my number. When I sat at the very back of my Greek class, the students in front of me were constantly glancing over their shoulders, and Professor Rowan made no move to scold them for it. The philosophy seminar, predictably, was even worse—Ryker and I sat beside each other, and though we barely even glanced in one another’s direction, the whole class watched us like a tennis match the whole time. Afterwards, Professor Winters pulled me aside, and I was part way through trying to explain that I’m not trying to be a distraction when she shook her head and shushed me.
“Don’t worry about that,” she said. “None of my business what you young folks get up to. I just wanted to see you up close for a moment, dear. I must say—you look terribly familiar.”
As if I needed more weirdness to contend with.
And now, Tuesday afternoon, I’m packing away my Lit books when the bespectacled and mustachioed Professor Marko approaches my desk.
“Hello, Miss Morgan.”
“Professor.” I swing my tote back over my shoulder and take a deep breath. “I’m sorry, I know what it looks like?—”
“What it looks like?” he repeats, tapping his chin with a long, tapered finger. “Hm. People have been taking note of you, haven’t they? I can hardly blame them.”
“Sir?”
The last couple of students filter out the door, and it closes behind them with a click that turns my stomach inside out.
“You are a lovely girl, if a little bit irresponsible.”
“Thank you, sir.” Small pumps of adrenaline shiver through my veins. “I’m sorry, but I have another class I need to?—”
I start to edge around my desk, but Marko side-steps, blocking my way.
“No you don’t,” he says mildly. His stiff, close-lipped smile gives him the look of a pale viper. “I checked your schedule, Miss Morgan. You have the rest of the day off.”
The small, dark room is beginning to feel incredibly cramped and hot.
I need to get out of here. I need to get out of here right now.
“It’s a study group,” I improvise rapidly. “For Greek. Professor Rowan is giving supplementary lessons for people who want them.”
His smile wanes. Thank God—I don’t think he believes me, but I don’t think he’s willing to chance it, either.
“Well. I suppose you’d better be off—but I’ll be keeping an eye on you, Miss Morgan.”
I feign an innocent expression, eyes wide. “Have I done something wrong, Professor?”
“We’ll just have to wait and see.”
His answer makes no sense, but I don’t care at this point. I make a move for the door again, and this time he doesn’t try to stop me.
I practically jog through the labyrinth of the castle basement, heart hammering, glancing behind myself every several steps to make sure I’m not being followed. I don’t know what it is about that man, but just being in his presence is enough to make me nauseous. Maybe there’s something I can do, someone I can talk to who can switch me to a different class… I can defend myself if it comes down to that, but?—
“Whoa there, little lady. Where’s the fire?”
I stagger to a halt, saving myself just inches before colliding with Freddie.
His expression is bemused but not alarmed, brows raised high over those dark brown eyes. He looks a bit out of place in the stiffness of a school uniform—though he’s at least undone his scarlet tie, and seems to be halfway through knotting it into a shape suspiciously akin to a noose.
“Sorry,” I mutter. “Wasn’t looking where I was going.”
“Hey, you’re good.” His tone surprises me in its mildness. As if he’s not talking to campus’s newest and most reluctant celebrity.
“You weren’t in class,” I note. “Thought you were sick or something.”
“Just got better places to be.” He waves a dismissive hand, and a smile flicks his lips. “I’m used to it, you know.”
That brings me up short. “Used to what?”
“Ryker’s like a brother to me.” He leans against one of the narrow stone walls, drawing vague circles on the floor with the tip of one boot as he fidgets with his tie. “Being near him, it can get pretty fuckin’ isolating. The looks people give you can get to your head, especially the angry ones. Hell, I keep a knife under my pillow.”
He chuckles like it’s a joke, but something tells me it isn’t.
“I don’t know you too well, Lia, but you don’t strike me as the kind of person who loves attention.”
“I’m not used to it,” I admit, “but it’s better than the opposite, I guess.” Anything is better than isolation. I’m sure about that.
“Sure, sure.” He holds up his completed work—yep, that’s definitely a miniature noose—and examines it with a thoughtful eye. “Well, look. If it ever gets to be too much, you ever need to commiserate—you know where to find me.”
“I… don’t know where to find you, actually.”
“Huh. Good point. Hand over your phone, I’ll put my number in.”
I withdraw slightly. Despite his lazy demeanor, he notices—I can see the briefest flicker of his eyes in my direction before he returns to his little tie-noose.
“I’m not trying to creep on you if that’s what you’re worried about, dollface. No offense, but you’re really not my type.”
For some reason, I believe him. This guy may be a bit off the deep end, but I can tell that Ryker trusts him, however begrudgingly. And, even though I probably shouldn’t, I can’t deny at this point that I trust Ryker.
“Fine,” I say, pulling out my phone and unlocking it. “You give me your number, but I’m not giving you mine.”
“Fair’s fair. Here, trade.” He tosses me the tie-noose, which I catch in one hand, and accepts my phone when I offer it. “Good reflexes.”
“Thanks.” I tug at the tie’s loop. He’s made a good, solid knot—impressive considering the slipperiness of the silk. “What are you planning to hang with this, anyway? Baby bunnies?”
“Bunnies? Lia, please. Do I look like a monster to you?”
I fold my arms and tilt my head. “A little bit, yeah.”
He laughs—a big, gleeful laugh with his head tossed back, Adam’s apple bobbing. “Ah, shit,” he snickers, “I guess you got me there. I don’t kill cute fluffy things, though. Not my style.”
Huh. I’d normally assume someone to be messing with me if they talked like this. Freddie, though—he’s got a wild energy about him. Not the dark and silvery flame that burns inside of Ryker—something more akin to heat lightning, stabbing and sporadic. I don’t know if he has killed… but I believe that he could.
“And there you are, mademoiselle.” He hands over my phone. I give him back his tie, and he immediately throws it around his neck like a scarf. “I better be off. Got business in the lowest depths of the castle.” He giggles, as if he’s made some inside joke with himself.
“I’ll see you around, I guess.”
He gives me a wave. “Bonsoir, lover girl!”
It’s only a few minutes later, swiping through my contacts as I cross the quad, that I discover he’s put his name into my phone as bunnykiller.
Go figure.
Ryker: Dinner tonight
I flop back on my bed and hold the phone high above me, contemplating. I can’t really spare the study time. Rowan showered us with alphabet exercises, I still have a heap of reading for Marko tomorrow, and Winters has already assigned us a paper on the aesthetic principles of our favorite artwork. And on top of it all, I’ve been meaning to catch up with Harper, who’s been swamped with pledge duty for the OPs. A detour to Carnadon City is, by all means, ill-advised.
But I also haven’t gotten the chance to talk to Ryker properly since Sunday, and—no use in denying it—I miss him.
Me: Where did you have in mind?
Ryker: Student union. Want to show you around campus after.
Show me around campus? That’s… shockingly mundane by Ryker’s standards.
And it sounds fantastic.
Me: Ok, what time?
Ryker: Be outside at 7
I text a quick affirmative, then clutch my phone against my beating chest, grinning up at the ceiling. There’s no denying that our situation is a weird one, but now that we’ve agreed to make it a real thing—whatever that means, exactly—it’s beginning to take on a sense of normalcy. And if this is the normalcy my mother wanted for me, I don’t blame her. It’s a crazy rush, being able to just do things, to see people whenever I choose to. I feel half-drunk again, dizzy on the euphoria of freedom.
My mother?—
My elation wavers for a moment.
I’m allowed to be happy, it’s good that I’m happy, but I need to keep my head on straight. I can’t let Ryker distract me from the other reason I’m here.
The piece of paper given to me last Friday night is tucked away in the double-locked inner pocket of my duffel bag, alongside my mask and robe and the original invitation intended for Angelica Its two words imprinted on my mind the moment it was placed in my hand: LOOKOUT TOWER.
The day after tomorrow. Time has been ripping by at a breakneck pace, and with everything else going on, I haven’t given that much thought to the Order. The whole late-night venture feels a bit like a dream to me now, even with the hard evidence of its reality tucked under my bed. The Lia Morgan who’s going to dinner with Ryker Pendragon is a world away from the Lia Morgan who stole away to the woods while the rest of the campus was busy partying.
I tap my fingers slowly against the back of my phone. Thinking, thinking.
I could give it up. The person with the hood and the voice changer made that much clear. So long as I keep my mouth shut, I’m still allowed to back out—and it’s as easy as failing to show up at the lookout tower on Friday.
But if I do show up, I’m not getting another chance to change my mind.
An invisible weight settles on my chest. I haven’t really let myself realize what that means until now. I guess I assumed I’d be able to defend myself, if it came to that—but just how big is this society? Surely it consists of more than the dozen or so masked figures that gathered at the cliffside. Everything about it is far too formal to be a mere college club. Too formal, and too dangerous.
I can fight my way out of a sticky situation, but that doesn’t make me invincible.
And what if things with The Order get messy? What if they start interfering with me and Ryker?
My mother would want me to forget about it. To tear the invitation to shreds, bury the mask and cloak, and go on with my life as the girlfriend of the hottest guy in school. Study, date, party, graduate…
Then what?
Back to isolation? Or out into the real world the way Dad sees fit?
Yeah. Not so much. If it didn’t work out for her, I’ve got no reason to believe that it would work out for me.
I can’t give up. I’m going to find out what happened to her. I promised that long before I met Ryker, long before I even set foot on the campus of Crimson Elite University.
And I don’t break my promises.
True to his word, Ryker meets me outside the dorm at seven on the dot. He seems to be in a good mood today, as much as he ever is; he even comments on the sunset, gesturing above our heads as we descend the steps to the union.
“It’s a nice view. You’ve been lucky so far. Most years it’s overcast twenty-four seven.”
I squint in the direction he indicates. It is nice, big blossoming swoops of tangerine and magenta leaping from the horizon. The few clouds hanging above it are as delicate as spun sugar.
But as we clear the last few steps, even the most gorgeous of sunsets isn’t enough to alleviate the anxiety cramping my stomach.
“Ryker?”
He pauses with his hand on the union door handle.
“People are going to stare, aren’t they? Like, really stare.”
“Suppose so.”
“I just…” How do I say this without sounding totally pathetic? “I haven’t been, you know… with you since the whole campus somehow found out about us. And I don’t know…”
“What to expect?”
Sort of… but not really. The problem is that I do know what to expect, know it all too well, and the prospect is more than enough to dampen my appetite.
“Listen, dove.” He turns to face me, and his eyes are flinty, his jaw tight. “Nobody is going to bother you when I’m around. If you don’t want them to stare, I won’t let them stare.”
“Really? What if Marissa?—”
“Marissa can swallow the shit that she spews,” he says calmly. “She’s jealous and pathetic because you have the only thing that she can’t get, no matter how hard she tries. She doesn’t have an ounce of power over you, and she never will. She knows that, and doesn’t want you to know it. Which is why I’m telling you now. Understood?”
His words do make me feel better, if only a little bit. “Yeah. I understand.”
“Good.”
With that, he pulls the door open, and I have nowhere to go but forward.