Jade
“What’s next?” I ask. “The memory one?”
“Yes.” He straightens, pulling himself back together, but I can still see the strain in his jaw, the aftershocks from whatever that blood trial did to him.
“The memory you sacrifice has to be one that’s important to you.
Not one you give away for self-preservation, but one you give away as a sacrifice.
The harder it is to lose, the better chance you’ll have of passing the trial. ”
“Oh.” My frown deepens as I stare at the bowl etched with French inscriptions, its black flames licking the air without heat.
Already, my brain is rifling through the catalog of my past. Which important memory can I afford to lose? Which one won’t leave me hollow?
Making my first piece of jewelry when I was twelve, a lopsided bracelet that Holly wore to school, bragging to everyone about how her little sister made it.
The stolen weekend in the Hamptons with Chase, my ex-boyfriend, when I gave him everything because I thought forever actually meant something.
My sixteenth birthday at the Met when my friends threw me a surprise party—back when I believed their friendships were real, before they dropped me because I didn’t get into the same colleges they did.
The dinner before Ivy Day, when every Ivy League school sends out their decision letters at the same time. We all assumed I was Yale-bound, no questions asked.
“I know which one.” My voice comes out steadier than expected, and I move to the second bowl, where black flames dance without heat. “The last good memory of my parents.”
Logan’s eyebrows draw together. “Are you sure?”
“It was the last time they were proud of me, before everything fell apart.” I hold my hand over the flames, taking a deep breath as I prepare to sacrifice a sliver of my soul.
Is that something you can ever prepare yourself for? I don’t know. Then again, is it possible to miss something you never knew you had?
“It won’t hurt,” Logan says quietly. “Not physically.”
“Good,” I say, and not wanting to think about it further, I plunge my hand into the dark flames.
They feel like silk against my skin, cool and almost alive. And when my fingers touch the bottom of the bowl, the memory starts to play in my mind, as if I’m living in that moment all over again.
Le Bernardin. Dad’s favorite restaurant.
The private dining room glows with candlelight, and I’m wearing the navy dress Mom picked out specifically for this occasion.
Dad raises his champagne glass, with that rare genuine smile on his face. “To our Jade,” he says. “Yale’s not going to know what hit them.”
Mom actually laughs—not her society laugh, but the real one I hardly ever hear. “You’ve worked so hard, and we’re so pleased you’re choosing Yale.”
Dad pulls out a small velvet box. “I have something for you,” he says, opening it to reveal a jade pendant on a delicate gold chain catches the light.
“Your namesake. To remind you where you come from, even when you’re out there conquering new worlds.
” He stands up and fastens it around my neck, something he hasn’t done since I was little.
“I’m proud of you,” he says, and when he sits back down, I can tell from the look in his eyes that he means it.
It was the last time he ever said it.
Now, black flames crawl along the edges of the memory, ready to devour it all.
My father’s smile burns away first, curling like paper in fire.
Then my mother’s laugh—that rare, real sound—turns to ash.
The warmth of the jade against my skin goes cold, then colder, and then, it’s gone.
I didn’t even bring it to Blaze Academy with me.
It was impossible to look at it without remembering the future I’d lost, so I’d left it at home.
Will I remember what it is and what it means the next time I’m there? Assuming I ever get to go back home again?
When the flames finally die down, the memory is still there, but it’s wrong.
Like looking at strangers in a restaurant.
I know it happened, but I can’t feel it anymore.
All that’s left is what came after—the disappointment, the embarrassment, and the way my parents looked at me like I’d failed them on purpose.
“Jade.” Logan’s voice breaks through the emptiness. He’s closer than before, his hand hovering near my elbow like he wants to steady me but isn’t sure he should touch me.
“I’m fine.” The lie tastes bitter on my tongue.
“No, you’re not.” His fingers drift to my arm in a surprising display of gentleness. “Those were your parents?”
“It was the last time they looked at me like I was worth something.” I blink hard, trying to remember what I felt in that moment, but coming up blank. “The next day was Ivy Day—when all the rejections came in.”
Logan’s gaze is firm and steady, as if he can protect me from what happened next. “Their approval was conditional on your success.”
“Everything about their love was conditional.” I focus on him, surprised by the anger I find in his stormy gray eyes. “But it’s done now. Second trial complete, right?”
“Jade…” He trails off, guilt flickering across his face. “I’m sorry you had to give that up.”
“It’s just a memory.”
“It’s not just anything.” His hand moves from my arm to cup my face, his thumb brushing my cheekbone. “Your parents are blind if they can’t see how extraordinary you are. With or without Yale. With or without any of it.”
My throat tightens. “You don’t know that.”
“Yes, I do. I knew it the moment you faced down a Hydra with nothing but raw power and determination. I knew it when you fearlessly went against the Lampades, and I know it every time you refuse to let this place break you, even when it’s trying its hardest. I believe in you, Jade.
” The words come out fierce, like a vow.
“Even if you don’t believe in yourself.”
Electricity flares under my skin at his words, sparks tracing where his palm cups my cheek. I lean into his hand before I can stop myself, eyes fluttering shut, letting myself believe—for just this breath—that maybe I’m not the worthless failure everyone else sees.
Then reality crashes down. The trials. The passages. The fact that two more bowls of torment await.
“We should keep going,” I whisper, although I don’t move away.
“We should.” But he doesn’t move either, his thumb still tracing my cheekbone like he’s memorizing the feel of it.
The torchlight flickers around us, casting shadows that dance across the stone walls. And somehow, in this chamber of ancient magic and sacrificed memories, it feels like we’re the only two people in the world.
Which is dangerous thinking, given that I still have to shove my hand into soul-burning fire and spirit travel to the Underworld.
Better to get it over with than to stand here avoiding it… no matter how good avoiding it feels with Logan so close to me.
“The third bowl?” I force myself to step back, breaking the spell. “Pain endurance?”
“The River Phlegethon.” He lets his hand fall, but the heat in his eyes doesn’t fade. “Are you ready?”
“Tell me what to do.”