Chapter 12
After leaving the office, I keep my head down and shuffle through the halls.
News travels fast in our circles, and I’m sure everyone already knows the scion of House Fiama was here.
My only hope is that being sequestered away in Dean Withers’s office means they didn’t hear every word of my scolding.
I continue in the same vein through all my classes for the rest of the morning, saying very little and dreaming of a moment to myself when I don’t have to answer to anyone or be perceived at all. When I return to my dorm room, Trinity still hasn’t appeared, and now I’m officially worried.
Winter and Lacey both eye me from where they lounge on their beds before lunch.
I recall what my father said about Trey Arden allying with Winter’s father instead, and I can’t help but feel a twinge of excitement at the prospect.
But then I wonder if my father would need me at all if Knox married someone else.
“What are you staring at, Freak?” Winter asks, breaking through my inner monologue. She and Knox really would deserve each other.
“Have you seen Trinity?” I ask, pointing to her empty corner. Winter pulls a face of disgust.
“No,” she answers before returning to scrolling on her phone. I need to find Edward. I turn on my heel and head for his wing, ascending the staircase to find a hall similar to ours, bearing the distinct and ripe odor of teenage boys.
My nose wrinkles as I search for Edward’s room.
Unfortunately, that room also belongs to Knox.
After knocking, I enter to find him, Sal, and Jackson tossing a football among them. They’ve already overturned a chair and a lamp, the bulb lying smashed on the floor waiting for someone else to clean it up. I somehow doubt a single one of them has ever made their own bed in their entire life.
“Poet, where were you after class?” Knox asks. He sounds annoyed more than anything, but it doesn’t stop him from catching the ball and passing it off to Sal. “I told you to wait.”
“My father was here,” I answer, and his eyes widen. “He wanted to speak with me.”
“Oh, about the . . . thing?” Sal asks, wincing.
“Shut up,” Jackson says. “Leave her alone.”
“Was just asking.” Sal pouts, and Jackson rolls his eyes.
“I’m looking for Edward,” I say. “Have you seen him?”
Their gazes ping to his empty corner as if they’ve completely forgotten he lives with them.
“No?” Sal says, scratching his head.
“No?” I ask.
“I mean, I’ve seen him . . . I just can’t remember when.”
I sigh as my phone buzzes in my back pocket, and I reach for it. “Useless.”
A breath of relief expels from my chest when I see that it’s Edward, but that relief is short-lived.
edward: Trin
edward: Eighth-floor balcony
edward: Now
The hairs on the back of my neck stand up as I scan his messages.
I read them once and then again.
That’s when I start running.
. . .
I bolt through the hallways, hopping on an elevator. After asking for directions, I find the balcony Edward mentioned. My blood runs cold at the sight of Trinity on the floor, leaning against the railing, her body limp.
“What’s going on?” I ask, rushing over and dropping to my knees. “Trinity!”
She looks up, and then she throws her arms around me, sobbing into my shoulder.
“Poet,” she gasps. She’s shaking and crying so hard that she can barely breathe, wet, choking sobs hiccupping from her throat. I hug her so tightly that it feels like her ribs might crack, but she clings to me as the wind whips around us.
After a few moments, she ever so slowly stops trembling. Edward watches us, a guarded wariness in his eyes. When Trinity finally catches her breath, she pulls away, and I grip her by the shoulders.
“Trinity, what happened?” I ask.
She slumps against the railing.
“I tried to fight him,” she says, clearly referring to the man she was asked to battle with.
Plenty of people have passed their Fiama initiation by now, which means several people have died.
I stop. Not died. They were murdered. Taken and caged and then used as an example.
No matter their crimes, this can’t be what justice truly looks like.
My stomach churns, bile threatening to climb up my throat.
“But he was too strong. I tripped, and then he was on me . . .” She chokes on another sob. “I fought him off as long as I could, any way I could.”
She looks so defeated, but she’s also too pale with sweaty curls of red hair clinging to her temples. A warning fires in my head.
“But you passed, Trin,” I say, trying to soothe her. “It’s over. Only one trial left. You can do this.”
“I didn’t pass,” she moans. “I couldn’t kill him . . . but he couldn’t kill me, either. They called it a tie. So, by the rules of initiation, they’re letting me try again, but I have to finish both of the next tests. This one didn’t count.”
It’s not an ideal outcome, but it isn’t hopeless. Really, we’re sort of in the same situation. My gaze holds hers, tears trickling down her cheeks, eyes wide in desperation.
“Trin, is something else the matter?” I scan her from head to toe as she reaches up and pulls away the lapel of her coat, revealing a long, festering wound slashed across her collarbone. I’m no expert, but it’s already oozing and looks infected.
“Skies!” I say, sitting up and holding out my hands without touching her, worried I’ll make it worse. “We have to get that looked at immediately.”
“What’s the point?” she asks, tears filling her eyes. “I’m about to be cast from Society. I’d rather be dead. Anything is better than this humiliation.”
She inhales a shuddering breath, her eyes sliding closed as her head lists to the side. I think she might be on the verge of passing out.
“Trinity,” Edward says, shaking her gently.
He stares up at me, his hair falling in his eyes, as if I have any idea how to fix this.
“Does anyone know?” Trinity asks, her voice hoarse and cracking.
When I don’t answer, her eyes open.
“I’m not sure,” I say.
Even within Society, there are hierarchies, and the Robinses aren’t a family with much significance. It means Trinity has always enjoyed the luxury of flying under the radar, and her every move doesn’t incite a flurry of gossip. Nevertheless, failing to pledge is a stain on anyone’s family.
This is really what Amery is all about . . . deciding who is worthy of Society’s resources and who is not. That we’re all just a liability, and like a diseased plant, we’re pruned to keep the entire vine from dying.
I always knew this on some level, but witnessing Trinity’s desperation, having just felt my father’s wrath, the truth lances me through the chest.
My mouth presses together in frustration as I wonder about the utter futility of this system.
What’s the point of it all? I shake my head.
These aren’t thoughts I should be having.
We’re reminded every single morning of the point.
Without it, order inside New Manhattan would break down.
Everyone’s lives would be in jeopardy, from Society to cogs to Hollows.
“No,” I say firmly. “We’re getting you to the med wing.” I gesture to Edward, who moves like he’s working through hardened concrete.
“Help her up,” I say, trying not to snap at him. He’s obviously in shock.
Trinity’s head lolls again, her consciousness ebbing, and I’m going to kill whoever let her walk out of her test injured like this. But this is what Society does. They take care of their own until you’re not.
But Trinity’s still Society, and I refuse to let anyone be done with her yet.
Between Edward and me, we drag her down the hall, doing our best to keep her head protected. She keeps blacking out, her entire weight sagging against us. She’s always hated how short she is, but I’m finding myself grateful that she’s so tiny.
“When did you find her?” I quietly ask Edward.
“About an hour ago,” he answers. “She’d passed out against the railing.”
I think about where I was an hour ago. Being scolded by my father while Trinity needed me.
“I woke her up, and she just started screaming and crying,” he continues, nearly on the verge of tears himself. His voice cracks, and he shakes his head. “Thank Skies you showed up when you did. I couldn’t get her to listen.”
I swallow thickly against the burning sensation in the back of my throat.
“The elevator is this way,” I say. I’m pretty sure the med wing is on the third level, a few floors down. Trinity sags against me, nearly knocking me over. “Lift her legs.”
As we attempt to pick her up, a familiar face rounds the corner, and I resist the urge to groan.
Rook.
He stops and watches with a blank expression, his gaze roaming over me and then Trinity, a dark eyebrow arching.
“What are you staring at?” I snarl. I’m really not in the mood for anyone’s bullshit.
“Do you need help?” he asks, throwing me off.
He’s huge and could probably carry Trinity one-handed.
She’s passed out cold, which only makes her heavier.
Maybe we do need help. I stumble against her weight, and Rook is beside me in a flash.
He catches me by the arm, steadying me with a firm grasp, and my stomach flutters with a weird little dip.
Before I can examine that thought, he scoops Trinity into his arms and starts walking away.
Edward and I stare at his back and then at each other. He shakes his head as if wondering why he didn’t think of doing that. I chase after Rook, who’s already halfway down the hall.
“Thank you,” I say as I catch up. His only answer is a grunt as we reach the elevator and file into the tight space. I jab the button, and the doors slide shut while I watch Rook from the corner of my eye.
We quickly arrive at the med wing, turning down a narrow corridor toward the entrance. I knock on the door, and it takes a moment for it to pop open to reveal a woman with mahogany hair and light-brown skin in scrubs.
She looks at Trinity, draped in Rook’s arms, before her gaze falls on him. Her eyes narrow, and I can read everything in her expression. But she has the wrong idea.
“She’s hurt,” I say. “It happened during her trial.”
I shove past Rook and gesture toward the nearest empty bed. He handles Trinity carefully, like an antique porcelain doll, settling her gently on the narrow mattress.
The medic’s mouth snaps shut, and she follows us across the room.
“Excuse me,” she says before Rook steps out of the way. Edward and I move to the far side as the medic cuts Trinity’s jacket open, revealing the oozing wound.
“This is infected,” she says. None of us reply. Obviously.
The medic looks up, and I notice her name tag reads Dr. Perez.
“What happened?” she asks as she starts gathering supplies, laying everything on a wheeled tray she drags to Trinity’s bedside.
I shake my head. “We don’t know exactly. She just said she was knocked down.”
Perez flattens her lips in disapproval and begins to assess Trinity. “I’ll ask you to step outside.” Her tone is firm but polite. “Once she’s stable, you can see your friend.”
Someone takes my arm and begins to maneuver me away as a few more medics file into the room. I can’t take my eyes off Trinity’s pale face. Her eyelids flutter, and I want to stay, but I’m hustled into the hall, where I stand between Edward and Rook. A moment later, the door slams in our faces.
“Is she going to be okay?” I ask Edward in a whisper.
He runs a hand over his mouth and down his chin before sagging against the wall, then sliding to the floor. He looks miserable. “I don’t know, but I’m not going anywhere.”
Right. Yes, good. Me neither.
Finally, I turn to Rook.
“Thank you,” I say, hating that it sounds like a mixture of suspicion and surprise instead of the gratitude he deserves.
He must pick up on my tone because his gaze darkens. Then he scoffs—a sound I’m becoming far too familiar with—before brushing past me and heading down the narrow hallway, disappearing without a word.
I should go after him and offer an apology and a proper thank-you, but I’m suddenly too tired to stand. Between running the tower of fire, Knox, and my father, it feels like I’m wearing a lifetime of stress chiseled into every bone.
And now I’m terrified for my best friend’s life.
Instead, I sink down next to Edward, straining to hear what’s happening on the other side of the door. All I catch are the muffled beeps of medical equipment interspersed by prolonged stretches of silence.
Edward hardly blinks, like his entire life depends on keeping the door in sight.
“She’ll be okay,” I whisper, trying to believe it. Even if she comes out of this alive, she needs to be well enough to pass the next two tests.
Edward and I lean together, and a sob escapes my throat as the weight of everything cracks me open. Tears spill down my cheeks as I try to drag air into my lungs. Edward shifts, his arm coming around my shoulders.
“I love her so much,” he whispers, his body trembling.
“I know. I do, too.”
Then we both fall silent.
All I can think about is how much it will break me if I lose one of the most important people in my life.