19. Lily
LILY
Allsaires stared at her. She thought he was going to tell her to fuck off—it wouldn’t be undeserved, she felt, for asking about Hawleyhurst. Lashing out was a reflex, her trapped animal defense.
But this time she wanted to take the words back as soon as she’d uttered them.
They’d brought down his walls and she’d seen him as he truly was—raw and red, badly bandaged.
Then they’d gone back up, his eyes as hooded and bored as ever, lips stuck halfway between a pout and a sneer.
Then he’d apologized.
Clearly whatever she’d thought about him before was wrong, but she had no idea at all now who he actually was.
Slowly, after casting a quick look around to ensure their privacy and throwing up a spontaneous dampening bubble like it was nothing at all, he reached into his pocket and set a ring on the table.
“I didn’t realize anyone was still there.”
She leaned forward and peered at it. “I’m pretty good at going unnoticed.”
She reached for the ring, then halted, flicking a glance in his direction.
She hadn’t been the one to stick her arm into a bonfire, after all.
He nodded and she picked it up. It was warm from the heat of his skin and heavier than she’d expected.
It reminded her of a class ring in its style.
The band was gold beneath the tarnish, and there was an opaque black stone set in it, covered over with thin bands of gold forming two symbols.
“These are the same symbols from the bonfire.” As she turned the ring over, she saw they were also etched into the side of the band.
“Yeah.” He was looking at her oddly. “Did you play last year?”
He wants to know if you’re the competition.
“No, I’m…no. Just curious.” She glanced at him. “Have you put it on?”
“No.”
She dropped it into his palm. “Why not?”
“Because something might happen.”
Lily laughed. “Isn’t that the point?”
“Not if it’s the wrong something at the wrong time.” He narrowed his eyes at the ring in his hand. “I haven’t really looked into anything yet. I need to be prepared for…whatever.”
“Why only one ring? Doesn’t that seem…unfair?”
Allsaires bit his lip and placed the ring on top of their open book, right on the monstrosity with the penises. “I don’t think it’s an advantage. I think whoever ends up with this thing has to do the legwork to get to the next clue. Otherwise, it wouldn’t be much of an Elumnara.”
Lily picked up the ring. “So, you’ve got the Nursery Words, a ring, two symbols, and the Chalice of Windermere. Oh, and the nonsense about an heir.”
“Our cup truly runneth over.”* He rolled his eyes and heaved a mighty sigh as he bastardized the Windermere motto, and Lily found herself laughing. Allsaires shot her a subtle glance that said he appreciated her appreciating his cleverness.
Mostly she appreciated how easily the prince of Windermere desecrated his own castle.
“What do you think about the heir?”
He sighed. “It feels like sensationalism, a red herring. But…”
“But Windermere was famously without an heir.”
Their school’s founder had a daughter, but she’d spent most of her life in France with his estranged wife and died young and childless.
“And the wording of it is so…vague. Will whoever finds the Chalice be named the heir, or…”
“Or is whoever finds the Chalice actually Windermere’s heir?”
“Right,” said Allsaires. “Either way it’s ridiculous. The latter, especially, when magical bloodlines are so well documented. If it’s true, it must be the former.”
Lily imagined the coming bloodbath, holding the ring to the lamp. “These symbols are so familiar.”
Allsaires groaned. “I know. It’s driving me nuts. I feel like I know them. But if I knew them I would…”
“Know them?”
He pushed his hands up his face as he nodded, dragging his cheeks into a ghoulish expression that reminded her of Ned the gargoyle. Her time in the hidden room seemed very far away. She checked her phone. Allsaires glanced at his watch.
“Christ. It’s almost midnight.”
Her body felt leaden as she returned to a specific time and place.
She hadn’t eaten dinner and now everything was closed—she’d have to make a cheese sandwich when she got home, and she should still do her Environmental Aegistics homework, but after dancing and these hours with Allsaires, all she wanted to do was sleep.
“I think you should put it on.”
“What?” Allsaires blinked at her, then followed her gaze to the ring.
“I think it wants to be worn.”
She wasn’t sure what made her say it. Immediately she felt stupid. Allsaires looked from her to the ring.
“I don’t think anything will happen, at least not an immediate something.”
He picked it up, rolling it between his fingers. It glinted dully in the light. He inhaled and held his breath.
“Here goes nothing.”
He slid the ring onto the index finger of his left hand. Nothing happened. He laughed nervously, glancing at her, but she was looking at the ring, which looked perfectly at home on his finger.
“Do you know about the deaths?”
Allsaires stopped laughing and looked at her sharply, the exhaustion suddenly melting from his posture.
“What?”
“I heard that every fifty years a student dies.”
“That’s just a rumor,” he said, visibly relaxing.
“It’s not. I went down to the archives the other day and looked it up.”
They looked at each other for a long moment, both of them wondering why she had brought it up.
“You’re not joking?”
“I rarely do.” She’d meant it lightly, but it came out more factual than she had intended.
“Shit.” He looked at the ring, nestled between his knuckles.
“I just thought you should know. Before you go chasing grails.” Her face felt hot.
“Thanks.” His expression was serious, and he’d meant it genuinely. “I think I’ll take my odds though.”
The midnight bell chimed quietly in the stacks.
“I guess we’d better pack in.” He pushed his chair back and stood, picking up his trash. “You didn’t get any dinner.”
“It’s fine.” She stuffed her book in her bag.
“You have to be starving after all that.”
As if on cue, her stomach gurgled audibly.
He’d done better with the dancing than he had any right to for being so long away from it. There was a rumor, a ridiculous one, that he had made a pact with the devil in exchange for peerless talent, and after watching him keep pace with her, she halfway believed it.
“I’m fine, really.”
“I have some stuff in my apartment if you want—just cup noodles and mac and cheese, but—”
The thought of going back to his apartment with Vis and Beaumont terrified her, and her fingers blanched on her backpack.
She could imagine the look on their faces easily as Allsaires stepped aside to reveal her—the shock and distaste, scrambling to cover it up with the fake hospitality that seemed to be requisite for the extremely rich, the awkward attempts to search out common ground that didn’t exist.
“It’s okay.”
He frowned at her, and she wasn’t sure if it was because he wasn’t used to being refused or because he didn’t believe her.
“Alright. Well, what dorm are you in? I’ll walk you back at least. It’s late.”
“What are you doing?”
Their frowns matched. The furrow between Allsaires’s eyebrows deepened. “What do you mean?”
“You don’t need to pretend like we’re friends.”
Allsaires stared at her, eyes narrowed, as if she were a riddle he couldn’t quite crack, then shrugged on his coat.
“I’ll see you in class, then.”
She watched him walk away.
* Windermere motto: Scientia poculum nostrum implet —“Knowledge fills our cup.”