2
The train rocks beneath me as we leave the outskirts behind and rattle towards the city.
Rigid on the musty seat, I clutch the bag to my middle, like it’s a safety blanket—and also to keep it close to me, in case any of these krums try to snatch it.
Mother told me about that.
The thieving, the robberies, the violence of this krum world.
And it’s all I can think about as the last train of the night stops at station after station, and krums squeeze along the aisle, disembark and board the train, some passing me with bad body odour, others with too much perfume, and I’m starting to get nauseas.
I’ve taken trains before, but only short trips around London.
This is too much.
I stay bolted to the seat.
Serena is wedged between me and the scratched, grimy window.
Tired, her lashes are low, dark circles stain around her eyes. But she doesn’t lean on the window and get some sleep.
I wouldn’t either.
There are some suspicious stains and streaks on it.
It’s disgusting.
Mother didn’t tell me that.
How gross this world can be.
The London Underground can be dirty, too, sometimes. But when I’m only standing with the sway of the train for a short moment, I suppose it doesn’t seem as bad as it does now.
I got to ride an old steam train once, a dinner thing for Landon’s birthday, back when we were kids, and he was really into trains and boats.
Dray and I spent most of that dinner running up and down the train, finding a spot to hide in. Then Oliver threw a tantrum, tried to drag me out of the cabin Dray and I were hiding in, and take me back to the dinner.
Those two almost pulled me apart.
Dray tugging my arm, Oliver yanking my ankle, and it only stopped when Mother found us.
I got extra dessert that night.
Oliver got none.
I hate to think back to those days.
Days when they actually liked me.
Even Oliver.
We were best friends at home. Dray was my best friend out of home. And Serena was also my best friend. I suppose, looking back, I picked my favourite of the hour based on my mood. I had that power.
How things change.
Now, I’m on a krum train that smells faintly of urine, and I’m holding onto my ivory backpack.
My jewels are inside.
Most of them, anyway.
Not all.
A bunch fell out back in the alleyway, when I tackled that security guard through the veil. Serena grabbed as much as she could before we ran.
But I did lose some.
The white-gold chain that Dray bought for me in Venice, when the families were on vacation there, and we all had our roles, our parts to play. He also bought Asta a pink diamond bracelet. And that sent the message to me, you are not special, you are still beneath us.
The chain was nothing compared to that lovely bracelet.
I lost the bracelet Oliver gifted me some Solstice Seasons ago. Gold and threaded with pearls. That bracelet scattered down the length of the alley, maybe went through the veil or down a grate, I don’t know.
But it’s the ring that bothers me.
Mother gave it to me when I turned eighteen. Father gave it to her on their one-year anniversary. He got it from Grandmother Ethel, who was gifted it by Grandfather Elijah.
The ring was becoming a family heirloom, if it wasn’t already. And it’s gone. Skittered away into the shadows of an alley. 18kt gold, platinum, a princess cut emerald stone.
A gorgeous piece.
Not something I ever wore around Bluestone. I only really wore small, subtle pieces at Bluestone. But some sentimental pieces, I brought with me and kept in the jewellery box. Maybe so I could look at them sometimes and remember moments when I mattered. Even if they were all pretend.
The train rattles to another stop and jolts me out of my spiralling reminiscence.
I glance at Serena.
She shakes her head.
Not our stop.
The impatience huffs out of me, and I hug my bag closer, tighter.
People get on, people get off.
The closer we get to the city, the more it fills up in the carriage. The two seats opposite us are taken by two men in cheap suits, tapping away on their phones.
A woman squeezes by me, her thigh brushing against my shoulder, and I hiss in response, jerking back into Serena.
But the woman doesn’t notice.
Goes on like she didn’t touch me.
I feel the need to shower again.
Mother told me that krums have more diseases than we do. But we can catch them.
I make a note to burn my jacket.
I lean closer to Serena and stare out the window.
The city rises in the distance first, then as the minutes pass, it grows around us, dense and tall.
The noise of the platform has a strange echo to it, but it also roars, and the chaos of the people moving in every direction cringes my bones.
Hand in hand, Serena leads the way through the crowd, through the station that’s almost as large and convoluted as the airports we’ve bounced around.
But finally, when we find our way out into the cold, crisp breeze of the city streets, my shoulders relax and I breathe a little easier.
Cities, I’m used to.
Not without a chaperone, usually, but London I’m familiar with, and I can navigate that one just fine.
I’ve been to this particular city before.
But not with Serena.
I came here, every time, with the Sinclairs.
Some of our annual trips.
Mother loves Zürich. Loves the quiet luxury and subtle wealth of the city.
But being here, with just Serena, everything feels enormous. Loud.
Dangerous.
The unease is a fist tightening around my gut, and—as though in sync—my grip firms around Serena’s.
She leads me through the city, up and down streets, around sharp corners, pausing for double-takes, and she stops twice to check the map.
The second time, I slump against a shop window. The lights are off inside, as it’s so late, most of the city is asleep.
I wonder, “Where exactly are we going?”
“A jewellery boutique.” Serena spreads the map out over the clean window. “Oliver brought me here for a weekend years ago.”
“A romantic trip?” My voice sounds as dead as my expression looks. “How nice for the couple who don’t love each other.”
Serena just sighs, curt. “It was after I slept with Dray.”
I practically throw myself off the window. “What?”
The grim look she turns to me isn’t brimmed with guilt, but rather, shame. “It was a drunken mistake. I wanted Oliver’s attention—and to hurt him, after I found him with Asta.”
My insides constrict.
My brow furrows and I just stare stupidly at her.
Serena folds the map. “And she only slept with Oliver, because Eric was cheating with Melody—and it was a whole drama. A domino effect. Anyway, Oliver lost his mind, of course. He’s never more competitive than he is with Dray.”
The look I rinse over her is unkind. Judgmental.
But refreshing, too.
Dray and Serena?
Asta and my brother?
I find a bit of satisfaction in their entanglements and scandals and, even, their pain.
There was a time I envied Serena.
I always looked at her in the dorm, pulling on her gloves that glided over her fingers like silk, and dabbing her lipstick on in the mirror, flipping her hair over her shoulder, and I was resentful.
I wanted to be a part of that.
Serena lived a life that was taken from me—but I didn’t know I was watching a lie.
I thought she dabbed her lips and flicked on her mascara before dates with my brother, that she was about to enjoy another night of courtship or a lovely party with all her friends, the other snakes.
I had no idea then that my brother was making his way through half the student body, including Serena’s best friend. I had no clue that he loved someone else, that Serena fought for his attention, that there were cracks in their relationships—all of their relationships.
Serena was sleeping with Teddy to piss off Oliver, then Dray and Avi, all to get my brother’s attention.
I just thought they looked out for each other in a way they would never look out for me.
I thought Serena took my spot at the top.
But I look at her now, the slanted line of her mouth, the weariness in her eyes, the faint streetlight casting an unkind glare over the shadows of her illusioned, ashy complexion, and I see a defeat that I never noticed behind her mask.
I should have realised when Asta came to me and exposed Serena as more venomous than I gave her credit for.
That day in the bathroom at Bluestone, Asta outed her friend, her best friend.
And I was so absorbed in my own self and reality that I didn’t think twice about it.
I dismissed it as Asta trying to hurt me and get information about Eric at the same time.
Now, it has a whole other layer to it.
Asta was trying to hurt Serena. To derail whatever scheme she had in play.
Pieces of a puzzle are all coming together in my head, and I see the truth for what it is.
None of them look out for each other, not the way I thought they did. And Asta and Serena might not be as close as I thought they were, as they should have been.
Even Dray and my brother…
They have always had a competitive, fucked up friendship. A poisoned brotherhood.
I just didn’t know it went that far.
Serena tucks the map into her coat pocket.
And like my whole sense of reality isn’t falling to pieces, she goes on, “So Oliver brought me here, and I was the only person in the world again. For one weekend. He took me to this jewellers, a private one, bookings only, custom pieces, collectables, antiques…”
Her words trail off into a heavy breath.
She lifts her chin and squints through the faint light to the street sign at the corner, a frown knitting her shaped, dark eyebrows together.
Her mind works, plotting our location, but mine is stuck on the drama of the snakes.
How putrid they all are.
I don’t know why it consumes me to know all of this.
Maybe I thought my life would’ve been easier with them. But maybe, as it turns out, it would have been heartbreaking.
Serena starts down the street. “I figure we’ll get the best price there. The clientele is suited to what we have.”
I stagger to catch up with her brisk steps.
The weight of my ponytail sways behind me.