Chapter 30
With only five nights until the blood ritual, the hours slipped by with terrifying speed.
Anxiety coiled in my stomach at the thought of August serving as a donor in the blood ritual and how powerless I was to stop it.
The Zarvex rune on my arm burned intermittently, a searing reminder of the consequences should my side of the deal remain unfulfilled.
Sleep evaded me most nights. I lay awake for hours, mulling over things better kept buried.
I knew I shouldn’t think about Casimir’s lips pressed against mine in that dark corner of the Labyrinth.
How it felt when his dark eyes pinned me against the bookshelves like one of Devereaux’s helpless butterflies.
No matter how hard I fought to drown those thoughts, they rose to the surface like bodies in a black lake.
The worst part was that Casimir trusted me implicitly; he had no idea I was plotting to fulfill my bargain with Evren behind his back.
I caught myself wondering about Isolde. I hadn’t yet worked up the nerve to ask him about her again, but for some reason, it felt imperative that I learn what she meant to him before the Jewel Ball. If he loved her still.
I also hadn’t forgotten about his mysterious “source” who apparently had a habit of scrying the future, or the fact that he’d hidden their existence from me.
I swallowed my pride long enough to call my mother to see if she might set down her beloved barbiturates long enough to send me money to buy a dress.
I deftly evaded her questions about August. It was a long shot to hope she might send me money for a dress, but I couldn’t very well show up wearing jeans, as Casimir had so rudely pointed out.
“Arden, you know very well that your father hardly left me two pennies to rub together, let alone money for gowns,” Eleanora said in a clipped tone. A silence hung over the phone, and then, “Did you get a chance to go through your father’s belongings? The ones I sent you a few weeks ago?”
If I hadn’t known better, I would’ve thought she sounded… worried. “I haven’t had time,” I replied. Eager to avoid the dreaded topic of my father, I swiftly made up an excuse and ended the call.
Wednesday night passed beneath an increasingly luminous moon as Sunday loomed ahead.
We still didn’t know how to intercede in the ritual, but at least the Book of Erebos was out of Devereaux’s grasping hands.
On Thursday morning, a surprise was waiting for me on the doorstep of our dormitory, another shiny ivory box wrapped in a delicate bow.
I frowned down at the mystery package. I had forbidden Casimir from buying me anything for the ball, and I highly doubted my mother had splurged her own miserly funds on something as extravagant as such a beautiful box must contain. There was only one way to find out.
I sighed and brought the package into my room. Quick as a fox, Gwen’s eyes shot to the package in my hands.
“What’s that?” she asked, dropping her book and rising from her desk.
“I’m not sure. There’s no note—” I said, fumbling with the wrappings. “Oh, wait. Here it is.”
You said I couldn’t buy you a dress. This one is borrowed.
I’m betting on the fact that your pride is stronger than your obstinacy.
—C
I glared down at the note as heat fanned across my cheeks. True to form, Casimir had found a loophole in his promise not to buy me a dress. Gwen was positively effusive as she peered at the note over my shoulder.
“Oh, Arden,” she cooed. “He must really like you to send you gifts like this! Let’s open it now! Please?” Gwen danced on her toes in a nauseating display of glee.
“We’ll miss breakfast,” I whined, but Gwen was having none of it.
She seized the box from me.
“Hey!” I complained, grabbing for the package, but Gwen was too quick. In two swift movements, she had the bow off and was tearing through the wrapping. Gazing into the contents of the box, she gasped, and then went silent.
“What?” I asked, suddenly worried.
“Oh my GODS, Arden. Just. Wow,” she cooed, and her eyes flooded with tears.
“Gwen, come on, let me see. You’re scaring me.”
“Arden,” she began seriously. “He knows your color palette.”
“My what?” I asked, bewildered.
She huffed as though I was being incredibly dense. “Arden, do you know how few straight men—or even women—take the time to learn their significant other’s color palette?” She gazed down at the dress, still concealed from my view. “It’s even more stunning than the one you wore to Bryce’s party.”
I rolled my eyes and gave a skeptical snort. “How can you even tell what the dress looks like when it’s still in the box?”
With a flourish and a smile, Gwen presented the dress, which cascaded like molten silver to the floor.
It was my turn to be at a loss for words.
A masterpiece of silk and metal, the dress was the color and texture of liquid mercury.
At the sides, the fabric had been artfully cut away to show slivers of skin, accented with glittering, interwoven chains.
The thin straps were brocaded to look like chainmail, and yet the material was still light and gossamer.
It was a dress designed with feminine grace and beauty, sheathing a warrior beneath.
“There’s something else in here,” Gwen whispered, her voice trembling. She lifted something shiny and glittering from the bottom of the box, and gasped again. “Oooh, Arden, look!”
My stomach lurched as my eyes locked onto the coiling, interlocking chains accentuated with diamonds and a familiar pair of emerald eyes.
The eyes of a serpent. I recognized the cruel piece of silver immediately.
Did Casimir seriously expect me to wear a stolen family heirloom to the Jewel Ball?
An event Bryce’s parents had probably donated a hefty chunk of gold toward?
I glared at the necklace, but Gwen was too busy gazing in admiration at the strands of diamonds to notice.
“Try it on!” Gwen demanded as she barreled toward me, necklace in hand.
On instinct, I recoiled from her reach, taking a step back.
Her face fell. “What’s wrong?”
Gwen didn’t know the necklace had been purloined from Bryce Yu-Ri’s family safe, and part of me still feared she might catch me draped in her stolen family jewels.
Not to mention the fact that the silver was supposedly infused with enchantments and magical protections.
Irrationally, I worried that if I let the metal touch my skin, I might not be able to take it off again.
I imagined how the silver chains might squeeze around my throat until I turned blue, choking me like the coils of a python.
Gwen frowned at my wariness. “Don’t be ridiculous, Arden,” she huffed. And before I could protest, she approached and slid the necklace around my neck. I shivered against the feel of the cold metal pressing like a rope of ice against my skin, but—
Nothing happened. I sighed in relief. It was silly, really, to worry that the necklace might hurt me.
Casimir wouldn’t have stolen it for me to wear if it would cause me any harm.
Gwen ushered me before the mirror, and I froze when I beheld my reflection.
The silver shone like a halo of moonlight against my pale skin.
The emerald eyes of the snake glared back at me.
“I’ve never seen anything like it,” whispered Gwen.
“Was there a note attached to the necklace?” I asked, my throat dry.
Gwen frowned. “I didn’t see one. Redirecting the conversation, she added, “You have to try on the dress after the lecture, I want to see it with the necklace. I can’t wait to show you my dress too! It’s this gorgeous shade of burgundy…”
An icy sort of dread filled me as I stared and stared at my reflection, Gwen’s chatter about the ball fading into a dull hum in the background.
Casimir had claimed that the necklace could protect me from glamours, and, considering I wasn’t able to resist them, wearing it made sense.
But I hated the way it glinted maliciously in the light, the way the metal felt colder than frosted glass against my skin.
Beware eyes of venom, the winding coil’s twist, and death’s slithering kiss.
Gwen’s sharp voice cut through my haze like a knife.
“Arden? Arden?” she sounded concerned.
I realized I had been staring numbly at my reflection for several minutes, and I shook my head.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked.
I gazed at the winding coil chains, the eyes of the snake on the clasp for a moment longer. “Can you help me take it off?” I pleaded.
Gwen obliged and unclasped the necklace, her eyebrows still knitted together in concern. I sighed in relief when the weight was lifted from my collarbones.
“How dare he blatantly disregard my request not to send me anything?” I grumbled. “And the necklace? It’s too much.” I gave Gwen an appealing look, which she did not indulge.
“I say this as someone who loves you,” Gwen began, “but you’re one of the most stubborn people I’ve ever met.
A guy like August might have respected your wishes—stupid as they are…
” she added wryly, ignoring my scowl. “You would’ve shown up to the ball wearing something that didn’t make you stand out, and what a shame that would be! ”
I shook my head in denial. “You don’t understand, Gwen. It’s different for me. People like Bryce and Monty—they’re always going to see me as an outsider.”
Her tone was gentle as she replied, “I can’t imagine how hard it’s been for you, Arden.
At a college full of trust-fund babies looking forward to futures they didn’t have to work to earn.
To feel as if you don’t belong.” Gwen clasped my hand in both of hers, her eyes shining.
“You might not be ready to hear this, Arden—” she met my gaze warily “—but you do belong here. Maybe August was too full of pride and self-loathing to see how amazing you really are. But Casimir—he’s different. He sees you. He knows you belong.”
I bit my lip in consternation.
Gwen’s intentions were pure, but she was working off a partial picture of the truth.
She didn’t know Casimir was a Daemon in a power struggle with the Bloodthorn Order, or that the heavy bracelet I wore on my arm covered the rune, the proof of my bloodbargain with Evren; or that it itched and burned and refused to heal.
She didn’t know about the Keeper’s Heir, or our harrowing search for the cipher, or the endlessly infuriating riddles whispered by the Book of Erebos.
She didn’t know that the full moon spelled grave danger for August, and just for a moment, I wished I didn’t know any of it either.
I swallowed my trepidation. “You’re right. I know he means well… It’s just…”
“I know it’s hard for you to let your walls down,” she interjected with a soft smile. “It’s hard for you to let people in.”
The thought of Casimir’s parting words in the infirmary had my stomach twisting into knots.
“I just wish you would let me in.”
I waited until Gwen fell asleep Thursday evening to sneak into the common room with the Book of Erebos tucked under my arm like a thief in the night.
I took my usual perch on the seat by the window, dreading what I must now do to Casimir.
It was a betrayal of the worst kind. An eerie sense of unease settled over me, my skin prickling as I opened the Book.
“Hello, sprite,” I whispered. “I have a favor to ask of you.”
I waited for several long moments before the Book deigned to reply. “Me thinks you ask too much of this deitè,” it crooned, rustling its pages threateningly.
I shivered, wondering if I would ever get used to hearing that creepy voice. “It’s in your best interest to hear me out,” I said. “My friend is planning to destroy your… vessel on Saturday night.”
Abruptly, the rustling stopped. “What’s this? Traitorous devil! Name the foe and I shall haunt him for the rest of his days.”
“I’m not going to tell you who it is.”
A pause, and then: “Oh,” the sprite hissed, “Of course, the little Arrow would thrill at the prospect of my ruin.”
“You’re wrong about that. In fact, I’ve taken a vow to ensure no one harms you.”
“You speak in jest. This sprite does not appreciate being patronized!”
“I swear to you, I speak the truth.”
“Why would you do such a thing?”
“It’s complicated, but our enemies want you for a bloodmagic ritual.”
“Our enemies?” the sprite sounded confused, and then—“Oh, but what a delicious predicament. As Trinculo says, ‘How came’st thou in this pickle?” It paused to snicker at its own cleverness. “But I see it clearly, now. You must betray your ally.”
I ground my teeth in irritation. “Yes. As you say, I am in a pickle. If you agree to help me—which I strongly suggest you do—I will do everything in my power to keep you—well, not alive, but intact.”
The sprite was silent for a moment as it mulled over my offer, and then—“Go on, girl, I’m listening…”