XVIII
EDEN
Screams wake me—sharp, frantic.
My heart thrums all over my body, panic seeping into my bones like ice. There’s something heavy on my chest that feels dark, malevolent.
Am I dying?
I’m out of breath when reality settles in.
A chorus of voices rises in the corridor, shrill and overlapping. I blink lazily, the ceiling slowly coming into focus. I’m disoriented, my body aches, my limbs heavy with exhaustion.
Why do I feel this way?
I feel like I didn’t get any sleep at all even though I went to bed at a reasonable time. Then I hear it?—
“Is she still alive? Make sure she’s breathing!”
I sit up ramrod straight, my stomach twisting as a cold tendril of dread curls around my spine. Vivienne stirs in the bed on the other end of the room, groggy, rubbing her eyes. Another warbled voice from outside.
“Someone go get a nun! ”
Vivienne springs out of bed, pulling on her robe. She gives me a wary glance.
I swallow. “What’s happening?”
She doesn’t answer.
Instead, she yanks the door open, letting in the warbled chorus of voices. The gasps, the frantic whispers, the hush of girls whispering, some with screams caught in their throats. It all sounds so familiar.
I get out of bed, but something clatters to the floor.
At my feet lies my golden cross necklace. I absently feel my neck—it’s strangely bare—as I pick it up off the ground. The chain is broken, strangely.
I’ve had this necklace for as long as I can remember, it was a gift from the day I was christened. What could I have done in my sleep for a 24 karat gold necklace to break? I go to put it back on, but that’s when I notice?—
The clasp is melted.
Like someone held in a fire.
“That’s strange,” I whisper to myself, examining it closer. I’ll have to get it fixed, of course, but the clasp is melted.
Before I can interrogate the thought any further though, another shriek has me rushing toward the door after Vivienne. I leave the necklace on my nightstand.
What could it be this time?
There’s another girl lying on the steps of the dormitory.
Naked.
Covered in blood.
Just like the last time, a few weeks ago .
But this time—it all looks worse. There are cuts all over her body. Her throat, her stomach, her thighs. There’s even blood leaking out of her butt.
It’s too much to take in. I’m not squeamish, but I’m happy that my stomach is empty. And even then, I’m gagging; the bile acidic, burning my throat.
Her breathing is ragged, her face pale as she trembles. A weak broken sound escapes her lips—no coherent words, just mindless babbling.
There was no Communion yesterday.
This isn’t a result of the Communion Curse. This is something else entirely. My pulse is so loud it drowns out the voices around me. What kind of monster would do something like this? Is Augustine really this unsafe? Fear thrums in my throat.
A hand clamps around my wrist, dragging me back.
I jump in fright, only to realize it’s Vivienne. She’s furious, her fingers digging into wrist as she drags me back upstairs and shoves me into our dorm room, slamming the door shut behind us.
When Vivienne turns to face me, her chest is heaving. Her eyes are filled with a tumult of emotions, and I’m certain I see tears glistening by her waterline. I’ve never seen her this angry before.
I take a few steps back.
“This has never happened before, Eden,” she huffs. “That girl isn’t a victim of the Communion Curse.”
I nod slowly. I figured as much. “What are you saying?”
“Somebody tried to kill that girl!” she shouts, pointing at the door. “And I think we both know who it is.”
I’m stunned. “Who could possibly?—”
“It’s him , Eden. ”
I stare at her, my brows furrowing. She steps closer, her voice low and deadly.
“I would bet my life that Silas did this.”
My heart sinks to my soles, heat rising in my chest. How dare she accuse my boyfriend—my future husband—of attempted murder. I shake my head so quickly my neck might snap.
“This is the craziest thing you’ve ever said to me. You lied about him once before, why should I believe you? Silas would never do something so vile.”
Vivienne roots her fingers through her hair, spinning herself in a tight circle as if she’s troubled. I’m caught somewhere between offense and anger, a dangerous mix, a tornado twisting in my stomach—bringing me to the brink of saying words that would make me lose my salvation.
First he was a womanizer, now he’s a murder. Apparently, the man I am going to marry hurts women so violently. Images of the girl flash in my mind—wounded, naked, blood staining every inch of her skin.
Silas isn’t capable of that kind of thing.
“I’m tired of keeping secrets to protect you,” Vivienne says. “Silas sent a message through Marita that I should leave you alone, after I told you to stay away from him. Then he attacked me the day he saw you in the library with Lucian. He was convinced that I was using Lucian to pull you away from him.” Another heaving breath. “And he and his fucked up little friends are responsible for the Communion Curse.”
The air in the room dissipates.
“I know this is your first real relationship, Eden. But I think you’re blind to the signs.”
The anger finally flares. “Choose your next words carefully, Vivienne.” My voice is tinged with vitriol—the kind I’ve been on the receiving end of from my mother.
Vivienne laughs mockingly. “I’m the one who should choose my words carefully? Your boyfriend is a fucking psychopath and you’re too fucking blind to see it.” She hisses. “Do you think I don’t know that you didn’t have your period that day? He did that to you, and he’s the one who gave you those bruises.”
My lip quivers, and before I realize what’s happening—I’ve crossed the space between Vivienne and I, staring up at her. “Say that again, I dare you.”
She doesn’t.
“I’ve never asked you your opinion on Silas,” I say, folding my arms. “What happens between us is none of your business. ” I sneer. “We understand each other deeply, and he is going to be my husband. ”
She huffs, disgust contorting her features. “He’s got you wrapped so tightly around his fingers that you don’t realize how fucking ridiculous you sound.”
I choose to ignore her indiscretion.
“I’m sorry that Silas attacked you that day. Sometimes, he gets too passionate. He felt like he was losing me and overreacted. You didn’t even tell me the day it happened so it couldn’t have been as serious as you’re making it seem,” I say. “But to insinuate that he would go as far as to hurt someone so terrible ? You have no right to speak such unfounded lies.”
Her laugh is hollow. “Too passionate? That’s your excuse? If you’re going to sell me bullshit, Eden, at least make it believable.” Then she adds, “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to upset you. I also felt like you would be more sensible than to fall into his trap.”
My anger turns into an erupting volcano, sudden and volatile. The tightness in my chest has turned to a sharp, venomous explosion clawing through my insides. My blood is lava and I’m going to burn her alive.
“Maybe you didn’t understand what I meant earlier. I’ve never asked you for your opinion, so I do not care about it.”
She doesn’t relent.
My hands ball into fists at my sides.
“Open your fucking eyes, Eden. People get hurt around him. Girls get hurt around him. I’m not sure why you think you won’t be next.”
“What girls, Vivienne?” I mock, tilting my head. “If you’re so sure that Silas is responsible, why don’t you go and report him?” My voice is laced with poison. “Oh, that’s right. Because you’re afraid. You’d be risking your relationship.” I narrow my eyes at her, making sure she feels every word I’m about to say. “You can’t marry the person you want, so you’re trying to sabotage my relationship. Maybe Silas was right about you.”
Vivienne’s breath catches.
My nails are digging into my palms. I want to slap her across the face. “You want to warn me. To tell me to stay away from a man who has promised to marry me, to want me for the rest of my life,” I scream. “Yet, here you are, telling me he’s part of some fucked up gang who hurts women?”
Vivienne flinches. Her jaw hardens.
I continue. “If you’re convinced this is Silas’ doing, do the selfless thing and go and tell the Headmaster. Don’t just do it for me, do it for all the girls he’s hurt ,” I say mockingly. “This is the third and last time I’m saying it. I’ve never asked you for your advice about this. From this point forward, please keep it to yourself— commoner. ”
The moment the words are out of my mouth, my anger dissolves. Disappearing like a wisp of smoke in the air. I sound just like my mother.
I shouldn’t have said that.
Oh Lord.
Vivienne squares her shoulders, the fire in her eyes burning hotter.
“I don’t care what you think about me, Eden. I know I’m not from the kind of family you were trained to respect.” She shrugs. “At the end of the day—I don’t want to see you get hurt. I still consider us some sort of friends. It’s obvious that you’re naive to many things because of the way you grew up.” Ouch. “But you need to stop acting like he’s some perfect prince just because you refuse to see the truth.”
Naive.
The way I grew up.
Refuse to see the truth.
“You don’t know anything about me, Vivienne,” I say. “And you don’t know anything about my relationship with Silas.”
“I know what I see.” Her voice is steady. Unshaken. “I’ve washed your blood-stained sheets, I’ve seen the bruises. I’ve heard your sobs at night.”
Something about how sure she is unsettles me. She exhales slowly, her gaze locking onto mine with cold certainty. The kind of icy look I’d see on my mother’s face whenever I disappointed her.
“All I’m saying is be careful, Eden. You are oblivious to what he’s capable of, of the kind of things he enjoys doing to other people,” she hisses. Then she waves a hand dismissively. “Then again, you’ve seen it. Meeka is lying on the front steps of our dorm right now. Her life is ruined forever because of your little boyfriend. ”
The words slip out of my mouth, from somewhere I don’t fully understand.
“Actually, I do know what he’s capable of. But he’s mine, and I am his.”
Vivienne stills.
A deep, hollow silence stretches between us.
Vivienne nods, but there’s a look in her eyes that I don’t like. I’ve only ever seen that look on the eyes of people at funerals. Mourning is the closest thing I can compare it to. She turns and leaves the room, the door clicking shut behind her. I stand there for a long time, my heartbeat loud in my ears, replaying our argument over and over again in my mind.
She attacked me first.
So why does it feel like I’ve lost something?
I’ve been meeting Lucian twice a week now for our Literature assignment.
Today is one of those days.
There’s a strange pallor over the campus. The halls seem to whisper to me as they pass. Girls are crossing themselves after nearly every step they take. I’m still upset about my necklace, so I keep it in the pocket of my blazer.
With each step I take, there’s a feeling hanging over me.
Like there’s something lurking just beyond the veil, underneath my feet almost, pressing against reality in a way that warps it a little bit. I see shadows in the corners of my eyes that disappear when I try to look at them—but it could be just my BPD acting up. I’m used to the shadow people. But these, they feel different. I ignore it .
I ignore everything except the pages of Les Misérables and the sound of Lucian’s deep-throated whispers as we sit across from each other in the library.
Today’s topic is love.
He flips through his notes, leaning forward in his chair. The old leather creaks under his weight. I’ve got my eyes glued to his book, trying to read his notes from upside down. His penmanship is neat—his cursive is probably better than my own. Which is impressive considering I spent a whole summer at a finishing school learning how to write.
“Hugo depicts love as both redemptive and destructive,” he says. “Which side do you agree with?”
I twirl my pen between my fingers. “Both.”
“Predictable.” Lucian smirks.
I give him a glare, and his smirk widens.
Our conversation turns into a spirited debate, but we have to keep our voices low because we’re in the library. I imagine it’s a spectacle to see—a short girl with an overwhelming headful of auburn-colored coily hair, arguing with a raven-haired guy so tall he’s hunched over the table.
We debate Fantine’s sacrifice, Valjean’s devotion and Marius’ naivety.
After a few minutes there’s a lull in the conversation. And that’s when he asks, so casually, “Have you ever been in love, Eden?”
The pen in my hand stills. There’s a moment of hesitation.
“I think so.”
Lucian watches me carefully. “With him.”
It’s not a question.
I nod anyway. A long, thick, uncomfortable silence stretches between us. We’re searching each other’s faces. For what, I don’t know .
Then softly?—
“Do you think he loves you?”
I swallow thickly. Why is everybody attacking me about Silas today? First Vivienne, now Lucian. Are they talking about our relationship behind my back?
“Yes.”
Lucian hums, tilting his head slightly. “Do you think love should hurt?”
My heart skips a beat. Why doesn’t he just come out and say it? I know what he means. I glance down at my hands, at the faint scratches that are still healing, at the bruises I cover now before leaving my dorm room without a second thought.
I could lie to Lucian.
After all, it’s a question and I don’t owe him anything. Yet strangely, that’s why I feel comfortable telling him. He should know what I’m talking about—he gives me the impression that he’s no stranger to pain.
“It can. Most times it does.”
“How badly does it hurt?” His fingers tighten around his pen.
“I’m used to it now…” My voice trails off. “Blood doesn’t scare me.”
Lucian goes completely still. “You bleed?”
I nod slowly. We sit in a long silence, again, just looking at each other. I see confusion in his features, but there’s a storm in his gray eyes. I wonder what he sees in my expression. Are my eyes glassy?
“Do you always bleed?”
I nod, with a sad smile. “One way or another.”
“A lot? ”
“A lot.”
“Do you enjoy it?”
I don’t blink. I don’t flinch. It’s like Lucian and I are in a bubble—separated from everything else. So I’m truthful.
“I think I could, in the future. It’s gotten more bearable each time.”
Admitting that feels like a weight off my shoulders. I could never tell Vivienne this. She wouldn’t get it—and I would never want to share this with her, I don’t think she’d ever let me hear the end of it.
But Lucian? He feels different.
Lucian inhales sharply. Then a strange, unreadable look passes through his eyes before his lips curl into something that isn’t quite a smile, but probably it is in his book.
“Maybe you could, Edie.” He looks down at his notes. “But I disagree whole-heartedly with Hugo’s idea that love should be destructive.” He’s gripping his book until it’s crushed, till his knuckles turn white. “All that Fantine endured for Cosette. You know what it proves? That selfless devotion is punished in a world without mercy.”
My stomach tightens.
His words sound calm, but it’s obvious that he’s upset. His book is a crumpled mess by the time it’s finished. Lucian tosses it to the side, rubbing his hands with the heels of his palms and taking a breath so deep I see his chest shudder.
I feel like I’ve disappointed him somehow, too.
But neither he or Vivienne would understand what’s at stake for me. Silas is my ticket out of the hellscape that I was raised in—the only way to secure my inheritance, the only way to get my mother to be proud of me.
I can’t tell him that. It’s a secret I have to keep close to my chest if I want to actually achieve my plan. But I know one thing is true.
“I’m happy that we got paired together.” I give him a lopsided grin. “I didn’t like you at first—but you’re slightly more tolerable now.”
His smile softens. The warmth of it is like a salve, healing something in me I didn’t know was wounded.
“I am too, Edie.”
And just like that, the moment passes.
We go back to our notes, back to Hugo, back to the familiar rhythm of our conversations. Yet something lingers in the air.
I don’t acknowledge it, but it feels something like a warning. The fact that Lucian didn’t push surprises me. He looks like the kind of guy who always gets what he wants one way or another. Yet he doesn’t ask for details about what happened between Silas and I, about what my words actually meant.
We keep the conversation focused on Les Misérables , his voice smooth and steady. But as naive as Vivienne thinks I am, I can tell that something has changed. It’s in the way his fingers drum against the table, in the slight furrow of his brows, in the way he carefully doesn’t look at the bruises that we were just talking about.
For a moment, I wonder if I should say something. Should I tell him that it doesn’t matter? I chose this . Silas is my future. No, I let the moment pass.
We work in silence for the rest of the session.
It isn’t uncomfortable though. If anything…it’s grounding. The past few weeks I’ve realized that Lucian has that effect on me.
Where Silas is wild, he’s steady.
Where Silas is cold, he’s warm.
It surprises me that I’m comparing them, but I do it anyway.
The library is nearly empty when we finally pack up our things.
The heavy chandeliers cast long golden shadows over the towering bookshelves, their flicking light softening the sharp angles of Lucian’s face.
“Same time next week?” he asks, slipping his notebook into his bag.
I nod. “Same time.”
He hesitates for a moment, like he wants to say something else. But he just presses his lips into a hard line. “Alright, Edie. Get back safely.”
The words give me a strange feeling in my stomach. “I will, Lucy.”
I glance over at my shoulder as I leave, half-expecting him to still be watching me. He’s not. But I still feel a presence wrapped around me, long after I step out into the darkness.
I pull my coat tighter around myself—it’s a white real fur coat. It’s vintage, so these minks died ages ago. I feel terrible about it all the same, but it’s one of the warmest things I have right now. Despite the apparent danger on campus, I feel safe.
A dark stillness has fallen upon the campus. Most people are traversing to their dorms, loitering by the benches, gathering in small groups to talk about whatever’s on their mind. The distant murmur of their voices just an octave above the chittering nighttime fauna.
There’s loneliness thick in my throat.
The only friend I have here is Silas .
Perhaps Vivienne too, but after our tiff I’m not sure how things will go.
Maybe Lucian?
But Silas should be my only male friend.
My phone buzzes the moment that thought pops into my head.
It would be so crazy if?—
A text from Silas.
Silas:
Cloisters. Now.
I hesitate, my fingers tightening around my phone.
There’s never a question in my mind whenever Silas summons me. I always go. I always want to. But tonight, there’s something else there too. My thoughts feel constricted, wrapped into a spiral that I can’t make much sense of.
Did you bleed ?
It’s Lucian’s voice.
Shaking my head, I push the thought away and quicken my pace to the cloisters.
Silas is waiting for me in the shadows, leaning against one of the stone archways like a vision out of some dark fairytale. His brown hair is black in this light, slicked back perfectly from his face. His profile—the aquiline nose, sharp cheekbones, soft lips—is highlighted by the flickering lamps. It’s one of the rare times he looks relaxed: his uniform jacket is unbuttoned, his tie loose around his neck.
He’s heartbreakingly beautiful.
And I’m his, forever.
He’s gazing sharply in the distance, but it softens the moment it lands on me.
“Finally.”
His voice is smooth, edged with the yearning that makes my core tingle. He pulls me against him without another word, threading his fingers into my hair, claiming my mouth possessively. I lean into it—it’s dominating and raw—melting into him, letting him take as much as he wants.
His hands slide down my neck, gripping my waist, pulling me into him. Hot breath against my neck, his erection pressed against my stomach.
“Are you still sore?” He exhales with a small laugh.
I am, but I don’t say it. How I feel comes second to what he wants. Instead, I tilt my head and kiss him deeper, my tongue sliding inside his mouth, exploring, teasing, pushing deeper.
Silas hums in approval, his mouth along the curve of my jaw. The sensation sends electricity coursing through every vein in my body. His hands tighten against my waist, the pads of his thumbs pressing into my fleshy hips.
I wrap my arms around his neck, nearly dropping my bag. Then, suddenly, he stops, pulling back just enough to look at me. My heart drops, the lingering taste of him making me salivate.
“Did you enjoy your time with Lucian?”
He’s calm. But I’ve seen this kind of calm. He’s seething on the inside.
My pulse stumbles. “It was just for our school project. ”
Silas tilts his head, his grip on my hips tightening. “I already told you that I don’t like you being around him.” He bares his teeth in something that’s both a smile and a sneer. “And today, you spent hours with him.”
I don’t respond.
What can I say? That it’s for school? That I have no choice? That Lucian is… different ? None of those answers would satiate Silas.
I see the hunger in his eyes, the possessiveness, the utter obsession. So, I do the only thing I know that will make him feel better—the only thing that will remind him that I’m his and only his. I kiss him.
Silas groans against my mouth, his hand dropping to my neck—squeezing just enough. My bag falls to the ground, and I grab his cheeks with my hands, digging my fingers into the soft skin just above his ears. The kiss turns messy, desperate, his hands moving over me like he’s trying to erase every trace of Lucian from my mind.
I let myself go, falling into him. Because this is all that matters to me.
Not Lucian.
Not the strange things occurrences on campus
Not Vivienne’s ridiculous aspersions about Silas.
Only this.
Only him .
When he finally pulls away, his lips curl into a smirk.
“Good girl,” he murmurs against my skin.
I shiver—not from the cold. My panties are soaked through, heat building in my core, begging for release. I try to keep my grip on him, to kiss him again. But Silas pushes me away lightly, picking up my bag off the floor. Not without playfully biting my leg though. I fold my arms .
He slings my bag over his shoulder.
“May I walk you to your dorm, my Lady?” he says, stretching out a hand.
I chuckle, taking it. “You may, my Lord.”
Hand-in-hand, we walk to the girls’ dormitory.
It feels like a glimpse into our future, walking through the manicured gardens on our estate. I can hear the birds chirping, see the butterflies flitting around the flowers I planted. It feels like a dream. Silas might be my Prince Charming after all.
The trajectory of my life is changing. For the first time it feels like it’s changing in a way that I like. He gives me a kiss on the cheek on the steps of the dormitory.
He hands me my bag. “I’ll be taking a trip away from campus soon.”
I cock my head. “Where are you going?”
“To get your ring.” He smiles. “And to ask for your hand.”
Then he disappears.
When I step inside my dorm room, it’s quiet.
Vivienne is sat on her bed, reading a book. She turns the page idly, not looking up as I enter. She’s aware of my presence though. I don’t say anything. Neither does she.
I go to the bathroom and take a hot shower before changing into my nightgown. Slipping beneath the silken covers, I force my mind to go blank. But sleep doesn’t come easily when you’re ignoring your roommate.
My word is shifting and I’m beyond happy about it—I can’t remember the last time I felt like this. Silas is going to ask for my hand and buy my engagement ring. But there’s nobody to share it with.
Vivienne definitely doesn’t want to hear it; in her mind, Silas is the devil incarnate. Eleanor takes 2-3 business days to respond to my messages and I’ve already spoken with my mother.
I don’t know how long I lay there staring at the ceiling thinking about Silas. Thinking about the thrilling future that awaits us. I want this to work out more than I can let on, beyond the fact that my inheritance hinges on this.
It’s more than that now. Silas is good-looking, Godly, and destined for a dukedom. The perfect trifecta—and he’s committed to me forever. Just a few months ago, I was holed up in my room reading romance books wishing I could live in a world where I got my happy ending. I was under the thumb of my mother, at her mercy.
But now, I have a future to look forward to with Silas.
He’s my knight in shining armor, my blessing from the Lord, the man who rescues me from my ivory tower.
My husband.