Chapter 36 Irene #2
Masika shuddered, horrified. There it is. That was the look Irene had been waiting for.
The real way Masika felt about her.
“God…” Masika shook her head. “Maybe Emilio and Olivier were right. Maybe you are beyond reach.”
Irene winced at hearing their names spoken out loud.
When she’d seen them in the forest, when she’d known they might be destroyed by their arrows, Irene had been unable to ignore the current of sorrow that rushed through her chest, warped by the short-lived joy at seeing that they had somehow survived the Decennial.
“They made it…you know.” Irene noticed the way Masika’s eyes lit up for a brief moment, unable to hide her instant relief. “After we brought you back here to the dungeons…the others weren’t able to find the rest of your group in the forest. I convinced them it was pointless to keep searching.”
Masika scoffed. “If you want my thanks, don’t hold your breath.”
Silence settled over them as Irene met Masika’s withering stare.
There would be no reasoning with Masika, no convincing her.
Not now, at least. But time was ticking, and despite Irene’s determination, there was no denying that her window of opportunity was closing, and soon, her only friend would be gone—forever.
Suddenly, the clatter of approaching footsteps echoed behind Irene, the familiar rumble of voices bouncing around the walls of the dungeon.
When Irene glanced back at Masika, she saw the panic in the other girl’s eyes. The fear she concealed so well. Because as strong as Masika made herself out to be, Irene knew, with unwavering certainty, that she was terrified.
“It’s happening,” Irene whispered, frantic. She wrapped her hands around the iron bars, dropping her voice even lower. “Whether you want it to or not. The Demien Order will storm the gates of Blackwood Academy, and you’ll either be by my side…or not.”
Masika’s chest rose and fell with shaky, panicked breaths. She reached out, placing her hands over Irene’s, her movements so quick that Irene barely had time to react, to back away from her.
“I can’t.”
And that was it. With those two words, Masika had assured her undoing. Her fate was carved into stone, her destruction now a certainty. Irene ripped her hands away from Masika, the feeling of her friend’s fingers still echoing upon her hands, as though Masika had left a trace of herself behind.
Irene flicked her wrist and the sound barrier dissipated.
Seconds later, three figures emerged from the darkness.
At the head of the trio stood Headmaster Silas, navy peacoat upon his shoulders, walking stick in hand.
Flanking him were Housemaster Violet and Housemaster Wesley.
The pair walked with their hands clasped in front of them, a stoic expression plastered on their faces.
“Ah. Irene.” Silas’s voice rang out, eerily serene. “Reacquainting yourself with your old friend?”
Irene stiffened. Her eyes flitted to Masika, who remained stone-faced.
“I figured I’d try to get ahead of the interrogation,” Irene supplied. “See what information I could get out of her.”
Silas shifted his gaze to Masika, who sucked in a sharp breath.
“Masika Sallow.” He spoke her name slowly, enunciating each syllable.
“You’ve surprised me. Impressed me, even.
When I heard you’d been crushed beneath a mountain, I didn’t expect you to make it out unscathed.
” His eyes traced the scar on her face with deliberate precision.
“Well, I suppose not completely unscathed.”
Masika swallowed. To her credit, her gaze remained unflinching. “If you’re here to sacrifice me to the Ether—then get on with it.”
Silas paused in front of the bars of her cell. They were mere feet apart now, close enough that either could reach out and touch the other, though Irene doubted that Masika would try.
“In time,” Silas replied. He watched Masika with a strange glint in his eyes, almost as if he were waiting for something. “You know…this really isn’t my fault, Ms. Sallow. The Ether has been…deteriorating. Almost completely unstable since you all slipped away. If it isn’t fed what it craves—”
“Liar,” Masika spat out, lunging toward him.
At the abrupt movement, Violet and Wesley each took a rigid step forward, corporeal magic crackling in their palms, but Silas raised a hand, and the pair instantly stopped in their tracks.
“All of this is your fault,” Masika said.
“The only reason the Ether craves my soul in the first place is because of what you did. You’re not supposed to be the Headmaster! You never were!”
Violet’s lip curled back in disgust. “Shut your mouth, you insolent—”
“It’s quite all right,” Silas muttered, cutting Violet off. He let out a sigh, slowly slipping off his black gloves. “The girl is right. I am a liar. A thief. A crook.” He flexed his fingers and his golden ring burned crimson. “I am what I needed to become in order to survive.”
Masika’s expression hardened.
“Sacrificing me won’t change anything,” she spat out. “You’ll never find the others. And then the Ether will crumble. You’ll lose control. You’ll lose everything.”
Silas leaned in closer. He wrapped his own hands around the bars. “And what makes you so sure of that?”
Masika met his gaze, chin lifted high.
“Because I’d rather die a thousand deaths than ever tell you where they are.”
At this, Silas smiled. “Well, Ms. Sallow…that won’t be an issue.
” He snapped his fingers and Wesley stepped forward, unveiling the same spear they’d used to torture Thalia.
“Have you not wondered why we’ve waited to feed you to the Ether?
Why we’ve bothered to throw you in this cell? ” His eyes raked her face slowly.
The realization must have struck Masika at the same time it dawned on Irene, because her expression fell, the defiance in her stare faltering.
Silas chuckled.
“Your presence here isn’t just a formality…it’s a necessity.”
Masika staggered backward. A single step.
“You’re using me as bait,” she whispered, voice cracking. It wasn’t a question. “It won’t work.”
Silas wrapped his hand around the spear. “We’ll see about that.”
Irene felt like she was going to be sick. She staggered backward, hand clutching her stomach. She just needed some air. A moment to think.
“I…I’m going to go check in with Samira and Everly,” Irene mumbled. But as she took her first step away from the cell, Headmaster Silas’s voice punctured the air, holding her in place.
“Ms. Bamford.”
Dread settled upon Irene’s shoulders as she spun on her heels, slowly, and turned back to face Silas. The Headmaster had a crooked grin on his lips, an almost mischievous twinkle in his eyes.
“I’d prefer that you stayed,” he said. “Observed. After all…as a new member of the Council…” Silas reached into his coat pocket, unveiling a shiny brass object. It took Irene a few seconds to realize what it was. A coin. “…it’s imperative you learn all of our interrogation tactics.”
Irene’s throat tightened. Even in the dim hazy light of the dungeons, the coin glinted. “What are you saying?”
Silas lifted his lips into a feline grin.
“Congratulations, Ms. Bamford. You are now part of Blackwood Academy’s prestigious Council.
” Silas dangled the coin between his index and middle finger.
Instinctively, Irene reached out, desperate to touch it, but before she could grab the coin from Silas, the Headmaster lifted his hand an inch or so, moving it just out of her reach.
“You understand what accepting this means, don’t you? ”
Irene kept her gaze anchored on Silas. She didn’t dare look anywhere else. If she allowed herself to face Masika, to see the terror and betrayal in her eyes, then she’d run the risk of falling apart. Her finely honed control fracturing into a million pieces.
There was no fighting this. Not here, at least. If Irene wanted to find a way to save Masika, then she’d have to swallow her shame and face the consequences.
She’d have to stand back and watch her friend—her best friend—be tortured and ripped apart, all the while knowing it was her doing. Her fault.
My fault.
“Do you understand?” Silas asked again, dragging Irene to the present.
As the question lingered in the air, Irene allowed her gaze to drift to Masika once more. All Irene could hope for was that her friend could see the unspoken words behind her eyes, the tiny flicker of regret carefully concealed behind her apathetic facade.
I’m sorry.
I failed you.
I’m so fucking sorry.
But those words would never be spoken out loud. Lost in the distance between them.
Instead, Irene let her mouth curl into the faintest hint of a smirk. She let her face drop into calculated indifference. And then, with as much apathy as she could muster, Irene turned to the Headmaster of Blackwood Academy and said, “I understand.”