Chapter 24 #2
The fear doesn’t seem to loosen as I climb the stone steps to Parker’s floor. Because sometimes, it doesn’t matter what the truth is. Sometimes it only matters what it looks like. And that’s exactly what my father prepared me for. And I failed.
My fists bang against Parker’s apartment door, my blood rushing between my ears.
“Please be here, please be here.” I shift from foot to foot, lifting my hand to bang again when the door is suddenly whipped open.
I come face-to-face with Asher, looking ruffled and still half asleep, his dark hair rumpled and mussed, sticking up all over the place.
He rubs his eyes, squinting at me when he mumbles, “The one fuckin’ day I get to sleep in. This is wicked bullshit.”
“I’m sorry, Asher. I need to talk with Parker. Is he here?”
“I don’t know, man, check his room. Like I said, I was sleeping.”
“Thanks, I’m so sorry.” I rush past Asher like my ass is on fire. I don’t stop until I’m standing in front of Parker’s door. I don’t bother knocking, flinging it open like I don’t have anything to lose. I scan his room, finding it empty. My heart plummets into a sour pit of bile in my stomach.
I drop down onto the edge of Parker’s bed, my head falling into my hands. How could I have been so stupid? He’s probably with Mia right now, figuring out how to handle the outbreak of bullshit he’s facing because of some fucked-up secret society and their bullshit ways of testing us.
“Leo?” My head jerks up, finding a familiar pair of green eyes peering down on me, squinted into slits. He’s here. And I can’t discern his expression.
I don’t know why the last thing I expect to find when I look up is Parker, considering this is his bedroom inside his residence hall apartment.
But there he is, the man I wanted to see before everything blew up in flames around us.
But now that he’s here, I’m at a loss for words, so I just stare at him, worry and sadness rolling through me in equally painful measure.
The back of Parker’s foot connects with the door, kicking it shut to give us privacy. Then he’s on his knees at my feet, hands gripping my thighs. He’s still wearing his winter coat and beanie, but he looks so incredibly handsome that my heart pangs violently against my ribcage.
“What is it? Talk to me.”
“I didn’t tell them, I swear, Parker. We’re in the next trial, this is it, and I didn’t prepare you, and now everything is out, and we can’t take any of it back.
I told you we’d be recorded during our confessions.
What I didn’t tell you was that it would eventually be released, so The Keepers could watch what we do with that information. ”
Parker’s face doesn’t change. I wait for him to get angry, to be hurt, or disappointed, but it never comes.
“Didn’t you hear everything? I couldn’t hide from it, and I didn’t even make it to class.”
“Oh, I heard all the bullshit on my way in, everyone was stopping me and asking if it’s true.
The things people find noteworthy or interesting are always fascinating to me, because who gives a shit that I’m a blood descendant of one of the founding families?
Does it really matter in the grand scheme of things?
But finding you in my room looking so distraught, that matters to me. ”
“I was terrified you’d be hurt or assume I was the one who outed you. I could never do that to you, Parker, just the thought of it . . .”
“Baby, I know you would never. It didn’t even cross my mind,” he reassures me, running his hands up and down my legs.
“You didn’t?” I whisper, my insecurities bleeding through my voice.
His eyebrows furrow, a puzzled expression taking over his features.
“Maybe I’m the insane one here, but I thought it was obvious.
I love you. That comes with a bunch of other shit.
Like loyalty, benefit of the doubt, and not letting outside noise dictate my reactions when I have access to the source. ”
Tears flood my eyes as relief settles in my bones.
But there’s so much more there that I need to face.
I love Parker. But I need to get my shit together before I can tell him that in return.
Words don’t mean anything if my actions can’t back them up.
And right now, I’m the reason the three of us are hiding what we are.
“I guess I’m so used to doing everything I can to not fuck up, that when there’s the possibility of it, especially when it really matters, like hurting you, I panicked.”
“I’ll always give you the benefit of the doubt, Leo. People will always talk, make up their own narratives, tell stories, start rumors, but I’m confident in what I have with you and Mia.”
I lift my hand and gently tug the beanie from his head. His blond hair is mussed and unkept, which makes me smile. His locks are silky smooth between my fingers, and I slip my hand through them.
“So, they pit us against each other, to what? Watch what we’ll do?”
“Yeah,” I tell him.
“That is so fucked up. I hate that we’re related to all of this at a literal molecular level. This is really what your dad prepared you for? To basically be a slimy, scheming, asshole? That’s seriously what this is all about?” Yeah. It is. But that can’t seriously be right.
“I’m not willing to let that happen. I’m going to go talk to Professor Thorne, see if he’ll give me any advice.”
Parker and I leave Crimson Keep together and nod our goodbyes at the quad in front of the large Veritas Tree.
The walk to Thorne Hall is quick, my mind focused and sure.
Corvus College may be rich in whispered rumors and hushed confessions, but there’s no dark magic or evil at play here.
There are no haunted grounds or spirits that whisper secrets.
Just a legacy that’s rich in familial ties.
You don’t get to this point, with generations expanding centuries at one school, by being a cheat, a liar, or manipulative. I have to be missing something.
Rich leather and sage fill my nose as I reach Professor Thorne’s chambers.
The large, black, ornate frame that Parker and I stole has been returned, hanging next to his door.
My skin prickles at the memory of being chest to chest with him in the alcove while we hid.
I take a moment to really look at the portrait.
The five founders all stand next to each other, dressed in crimson robes, their hands each clasped to the person next to them.
At the bottom right corner is the script, veritas latet. Latin for, the truth lies hidden.
Well, I don’t want to hide anymore.
I knock confidently on the heavy chamber door and am immediately met with a cold chill as Professor Thorne’s voice welcomes me inside.
He sits focused behind a large, opulent wooden desk.
A low light from a single lamp fills just enough to see each other.
Professor Thorne is everything he outwardly portrays and is every bit as intimidating as he seems. His black hair is tied in a ponytail at the base of his neck, his dark eyes nearly black and empty.
He has a brutal scar that I have to work hard not to focus on, which runs from the bottom of his eye to the edge of his jaw.
Every bit of warmth, comfort, and ease evaporates at the door.
“Leo Ashcroft. How can I help you this evening?” His voice is dark and domineering, but I have too much to lose by not asking for help, so I take a seat in one of the rich velvet chairs in front of his desk, nervously running my sweaty palms against the denim covering my thighs.
“I want to talk about Crimson Veil.”
“That’s not something—”
“I understand the position I’m putting you in, sir, I do. But my heart is telling me one thing, my dad another, and my head is all sorts of fucked up.”
“Mr. Ashcroft, you cannot simply waltz into my office and demand answers about something I cannot and will not discuss.”
“You must remember what it was like to be my age. To be recruited because of the Thorne name. Did your dad pressure you, too? Ever since I was born, everything has been chosen for me. And my dad prepared me for the day the Veil came for me, so I could get through the trials and follow in his footsteps.”
“His footsteps?”
“Yes, professor. The pressure is going to break me. I’ve found something here, something bigger than me, something I feel like the school has provided, as unconventional as it may be.
Every little thing has brought the three of us together.
But I risk losing it all if I continue to bend to my father’s will and expectations.
He makes it feel imperative that I follow in his footsteps and take my place within the Veil behind him. ”
Professor Thorne’s face is unreadable as he rests his elbows on the hard surface of his desk.
“I will say this. Your father is not a blood descendant of Crimson Veil. Your mother, however, is. Your father took her name because it has notoriety that his name did not. He wanted into the Veil, at any cost, and was not chosen. Your mother was, but she chose incorrectly. Now, what will you choose, Leo Ashcroft?”
My world blurs, and everything I thought I knew is crashing around me.
“Sub velo rubro, veritas dormit,” he whispers.
“Beneath the crimson veil, truth sleeps.”