Chapter 17 #2
I opened my mouth to argue, but Casimir rose from his seat, piercing August with a look of pure loathing.
He set his drink on the table, and there was no mistaking the cold rage rippling from him as he stared August down.
“You speak about Arden’s affairs as if she has no say in them.
” The cold edge to his voice was enough to raise the hairs on the back of my neck.
“No surprises there,” he added. As August opened his mouth to protest, Casimir cut in, “I assume you’ve made a bargain with Devereaux that prevents you from warning her about specifics? ”
August’s sharp intake of breath was loud in the quiet study.
“Hmm,” Casimir murmured, a predatory smile curving his lips. “Now, why would you go and do something so stupid?”
“I—” August began, but words failed him.
He turned away from Casimir to glance over at me, his gaze lingering on my unusually sleek hair, on the glimmering, high-cut slit in my dress.
In my haste to get away from Casimir and the necklace, I hadn’t realized that my dress had hitched up.
I reached down to cover my mistake, but—
Too late. August’s eyes landed on my bare thigh, on the name tattooed on my skin, and what little color remained in his cheeks vanished. I yanked down the dress as August stared at me in horror.
“What have you done?” he said, aghast.
“It’s none of your business,” I replied curtly, even as my cheeks flamed. Shit, shit, shit! August was never supposed to find out about my bargain with Casimir.
For his part, Casimir had the nerve to yawn, watching the exchange with an air of boredom.
“Of all the bloody stupid—”
“Haven’t you made your own bargain with Devereaux?” I interjected, echoing Casimir’s earlier insinuation. “Don’t be such a hypocrite, August.”
“Arden, please.” August’s voice quavered, on the edge of tears. “I didn’t mean for any of it to happen. You have no idea how I—” His throat bobbed. “I thought the Order was just a secret academic society—”
Casimir cut him off with a hollow laugh. “Don’t sell yourself short, Sinclair,” he said, disdain etched into every syllable he uttered. “Tell her.”
August stood so utterly motionless, I wondered if he was still breathing. His eyes had gone round with fear as he stared back at me, his face whiter than the ivory rug at our feet. He smirked.
“You know how ambitious Augustus is.”
I grasped what Casimir was implying a heartbeat later.
“Wait—you’re an emissary for the Order now?” I gaped at him in horror. August was helping them. Aiding and abetting Devereaux in his brutal grab for power.
Casimir’s laugh was entirely devoid of humor. “Oh, to be sure,” he said, lifting his glass to his lips in a mocking toast. “Augustus is an emissary of the highest order. I suspected it after you told me that the donors had to volunteer willingly for the ritual. No glamours, no manipulation.”
Sweat broke out across August’s forehead.
“Please, Arden. You have to understand. I met Devereaux last summer at the fencing club. You know his reputation. He’s a legend around Ouverham.
When he told me about his exclusive society, I was excited.
I thought, this is it. Here was my chance to repair my family’s name and secure political connections in the process.
” He closed his eyes. “I didn’t know what I was agreeing to.
When he asked me to make a vow… I thought it was part of my initiation into the Order. If I’d known his true intentions—”
Casimir interrupted. “Why don’t you tell Arden what they promised you?” With the way he was glaring daggers at August, it was anything but a suggestion.
I shook my head slowly, refusing to meet August’s imploring gaze.
I could guess what they’d offered him. Money, connections, influence.
A glance at August’s face confirmed the worst. Devereaux had charmed August into making a bargain, promising him exclusive access to the upper-echelons of the Isle.
Starry-eyed and power-hungry, August had believed him.
For Devereaux, the lies would’ve come easily, and August had been all too eager to swallow them.
“Show me,” I demanded.
“Arden,” August pleaded.
“Go on,” Casimir goaded him, his expression vicious. “Show her.”
Grimacing as though the action caused him physical pain, August tugged at his sleeve to reveal a brand in the shape of an X on the underside of his wrist.
I stared in revulsion at the raw, reddened skin. “What does it mean?”
It was Casimir who answered. “It’s an Ethervalean rune called the Zarvex.” His eyes locked onto mine, making my heart stutter unevenly. “It means ‘without power,’ and in Ethervale, it’s a mark of bondage. The mark of a slave.”
My breath caught in my throat and—
Oh gods. This was no mere veilbound bargain, but an irreversible contract. An ever-fixed, magical brand. August had unknowingly vowed to participate in the Order’s ritual, ignorant of what it would ultimately cost him. August would be bound to Devereaux for the rest of his life.
“August, I’m so sorry this is happening to you. I know they’ve been torturing you.” His jutting cheekbones and the purple shadows beneath his haunted eyes told me as much. “Please, if you know anything, you have to tell us. We can help you.”
“Farrow,” Casimir warned. I ignored him. Casimir didn’t want it getting back to Devereaux that we were looking for the Keeper’s Heir, but this was more important. August’s life was more important.
Slowly, August shook his head. When he spoke, it was as if the last few minutes of our conversation had never happened. “Arden can’t be here,” he said, speaking only to Casimir, “You know she’s in danger, and you’re being selfish by keeping her here.”
“What do you expect me to do?” I cried. How dare he speak about me as though I weren’t even here? As if I shouldn’t have a choice in where I went! “Drop out of school? Where am I supposed to go? You know I can’t go home.” He knew better than anyone why I couldn’t return to that place.
“I think you should leave now, August,” Casimir said softly. With the way his eyes darkened with violence, it wasn’t a suggestion.
August ventured a few steps closer to me, keeping a wary eye on Casimir as if he might suddenly attack.
Casimir only eyed him coldly.
August continued to ignore me. “Things are going to get worse. Arden must leave the Isle of Lorn. Now. Unless you want her to end up like Isolde.”
“Don’t you dare speak her name,” Casimir growled, bearing down on August.
I frowned in confusion. I’d heard the name mentioned once before by Evren, of all Daemons, that night in the observatory. “I courted Isolde for months,” he’d said.
Realization struck me like a blow to the stomach. Was Isolde the one Casimir had failed to save, the one he’d lost to Devereaux’s betrayal? Was it possible that Evren and Casimir had loved the same woman? Casimir had never spoken her name in my presence—and yet August knew who she was.
Casimir had had enough. “Get out,” he snarled at August.
“This is on you now,” August fired back, hatred filling those dark eyes again. “You’re the one keeping her in danger.”
“You are the last person who should go anywhere near the Bloodthorn Order.”
August cringed back as Casimir advanced on him, eyeing the only exit. “It isn’t for you to decide,” Casimir hissed. “Arden must make her own choice.”
August’s gaze landed on the glass of blood-red wine in my hand, and he abruptly halted his retreat. “Tell me you’re not drinking that.” His eyes went wide with horror.
“Why, what’s wrong?” I asked, glancing over at the undrunk wine.
In a quick movement, Casimir lifted the cup and sniffed at the contents. He swore under his breath.
“What?” I demanded.
“It’s been poisoned. Enchanted. Drugged. Whatever you want to call it,” Casimir said bitterly, glaring at the cup. “Why didn’t you say—? Never mind, it doesn’t matter now,” he muttered, dismissing August with a wave of his hand.
The door clicked shut, and we were alone again.
“I should’ve seen this coming,” Casimir murmured to himself.
“Wait!” I called out. I shoved past Casimir, intent on following August, but when I swung open the door, he’d already vanished into the throng of people mingling around the bar.
August had hidden so much from me. Weeks had gone by before I’d noticed the change in his demeanor.
Why hadn’t he come to me when he was in trouble?
Why did everyone insist on keeping me in the dark?
Numbly, I elbowed my way through the crowd and onto the terrace, stopping only when my hands met something cold and unyielding.
The faerie lights continued onto the balcony, where they intertwined with the white, curving rails at my fingertips.
The sharp winter air was like a salve on my hot, jagged thoughts, cooling them to a steady thrum.
I felt Casimir standing beside me, his presence like a dark shadow.
“You were a little harsh with August earlier, don’t you think?” I scolded, but the accusation sounded hollow. I frowned into the darkness, still not turning to meet his eye.
“It’s better for us if he doesn’t know I want to help him,” Casimir replied.
“Why?”
“Because, if he knows I’m his ally, the Order will know it, too. I’d rather they don’t learn what we’re up to. A healthy dose of fear is…well, healthy.”
“August wouldn’t betray us like that,” I said, a little defensively.
“He’s risked getting caught on more than one occasion to warn me about the Order.
” A creeping unease crawled up the length of my spine as I turned to Casimir.
“Devereaux is bound to figure out what August’s been doing behind his back, isn’t he? ”
“Think of it like a hangover,” Casimir replied with a sigh, leaning against the railing. “Better to delay the inevitable as long as possible.”
Another minute of silence passed before either of us spoke.