Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
I’m sifting through outfits in my cluttered closet when my phone vibrates loud enough to catch my attention. When I look at the screen, it’s Jun’s name—no picture, just the name I saved him under when we first met: Jun-seong.
My mouth goes dry as I answer the call. I’m both dreading and craving the jagged sound of his voice.
“Hello.” I close my eyes and set my phone on speaker.
“Tonight is the first trial.” He doesn’t bother returning the greeting. There must be something wrong.
“I know.” I hold a dress up to my body and peer into the mirror. “My father gave me an advantage—he told me this morning. It’s a mental trial.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I was busy.”
“Huh. The letter didn’t mention a mental trial. I guess he’s playing favorites. What the hell is a mental trial, anyway?”
“I don’t know. Tobey said it might be a puzzle, or a riddle, or something…”
Jun groans. “Well, that’s great. I won’t be very fucking helpful.”
I set the dress down and flop onto my bed, sitting up against the wall. “I can imagine.”
“Funny.” He hesitates. “We’re going together, right?”
Why does he sound unsure? Jun has no right to be nervous. He was the one who left me this morning.
“We have to go together,” I say stiffly, rolling my eyes and banging the back of my head against the wall—just once. “My father thinks we’re mates, remember?”
Why do I feel like I’m hanging on to his words? The hitching of his breath, every lingering pause. Of course, he doesn’t give me anything of substance.
He laughs. Oh, how I’ve come to loathe and adore the sound of his laughter.
“And I’m an excellent mate. I wouldn’t let you go into this trial alone.”
“How chivalrous of you.”
“Are you scared?”
The question hangs between us. I should be afraid of my father, and I should certainly be worried about the trial waiting for us, but I’m not. It’s not bravery; it’s a privilege. I’m functioning with the faith that my father will not hurt me.
Will he hurt Jun? It’s harder to say. Perhaps not if he’s Strode’s son, and my mate, but I won’t take any chances. We’ll work our way out of this, even if I have to use every ounce of my mental fortitude.
“No,” I say. “And you shouldn’t be either. We have this in the bag.”
“Mm… I like your confidence.”
It’s feigned confidence, of course. I don’t feel it in my bones. If I did, I would be brave enough to ask why he ran away in the morning. I would ask if he feels what I feel or if it’s still part of the game. Pretending not to want Jun is becoming another trial, at this point.
The questions die on my tongue.
“Thanks.” I swallow. “Jun?”
“Hm?”
“Have you ever let anyone else feed from you?”
It’s not the question I want to ask, but it’s an answer I need. Why is he acting as if nothing happened? He may be used to letting people drink from him. It may mean nothing to him, and it shouldn’t mean anything to me, either.
He doesn’t answer for a moment.
“No,” he says in a low voice. “Yesterday was my first time.”
“Oh.”
“Why do you ask?”
“Curiosity, I suppose.”
He gives me an answer, and I’m left with more questions, but they won’t claw their way out of my throat.
After a moment of silence, he speaks again. “You sound jealous.”
My eyes widen, and I sit up. Dammit… he’s right. I sound like I’m asking for a list of other vampires he’s been with, but I’m not. I don’t care about that.
I don’t take great pride in being the first one he let feed from him, and I don’t think it’s special… not at all.
“Why would I be jealous? I’ve fed from plenty of people.”
“Right…” He chuckles. “Why would you be?”
“I’m not.” And I’m protesting too much. Hell. “Look, I have to go.”
“Then I’ll pick you up tonight,” he says. “Midnight as usual.”
I skip my last class in favor of preparing for the event. Diffusing my curls, putting on my makeup, and picking the perfect dress for the occasion is more important. Hopefully, I’m not getting dressed up for my funeral.
I rarely have to bring out my formal attire around school, but I packed a few things that will work. After trying several dresses, I decide on a black, floor-length number—off-the-shoulder, and chic. It comes together with my Victorian belt, the two brass hands clasping at my waist.
This isn’t the time to be late, and Jun seems to think along the same lines. He shows up fifteen minutes earlier than expected, announcing himself with a gentle knock on the door.
Tobey perks up from their spot on the bed. “Are you sure you want to go? You don’t have to. There’s probably another way.”
“I’m sure. Everything will be fine. It’s only a mental test.”
I might be more confident if it were something else—more physical or interpersonal. Jun and I would excel at that sort of trial. The first one may be the hardest for us, but hopefully, that means future trials will be easier.
“Good luck.”
“Don’t say that.” I glare playfully. “In theater, we say break a leg.”
“This isn’t theater—broken bones are actually a potential outcome here.”
“Right.” I grab my little purse. “Well, let’s hope it’s not the outcome tonight.”
Facing Jun is more daunting than the idea of the mental trial. Slowly, I clasp the handle and swing the door open…
And there he is.
I’ve never seen him dressed so nicely unless there was a play involved, and it doesn’t usually strike me as it does now. He’s dressed in a black suit; his tie is perfectly straight. His hair still falls around his face, but he looks like the gentleman he claims he is.
I’m staring, and I don’t realize until it’s too late.
“What?” He rolls his eyes. “Stop looking at me like that.”
“I’m not looking at you in any particular way.”
But I don’t miss how he looks at me, his cheeks turning pink as his eyes swoop to the low neckline of my dress, dancing over the jewelry at the base of my throat. The lump in his throat bobs.
“I’m surprised you own a suit.” I step out, shutting the door behind me. “That’s all.”
“I’m full of surprises.”
“Where is it from?”
He smirks. “None of your business.”
I could press, but it’s not the time to ruminate on silly questions. Instead, I follow him out of the building. It’s past curfew. If someone catches us out, we’ll be in trouble…
If anyone cares. How much of this Order is a secret, and how much do the other professors encourage? There are so many questions I may never get to ask—unless I stop avoiding my parents.
But, more importantly, how much can I ask before I give away my true intentions? That’s where Tobey always gets it wrong, and I won’t make the same mistakes they did.
“You’re early,” I say as we stride through the dark, empty courtyard.
“Yeah, well… whatever.”
“Are you trying to impress me?”
“No. I’m trying to impress your dad, all right?”
I can’t tell if he’s angry or if our shared nerves are creating a brick wall between us.
Words spill from my lips before I know what’s happening. “Why did you leave this morning?”
Oh, how I wish the trial were another day—if I could have a day or three to contemplate my feelings, I would have been able to keep it under wraps. Of course, I rarely get what I want these days.
He had been somber before, but a smile dances on his lips now. Of course, he’s pleased by the question. He’s looking for something to dangle over my head, isn’t he?
It’s the same game we’ve always played, but the stakes are higher. We’re entangled now in more ways than one. Hell. I miss when the only way he could rile me up was related to theater.
“I was getting us breakfast—again,” he says. “I thought that was obvious.”
My jaw drops. “Why would it be obvious?”
“Because that’s what I was doing last time. Why did you leave?”
“I—I—” The words still aren’t coming out like they’re supposed to. I lift my head higher. “Well, I assumed the worst because you are the worst.”
It seemed like a safe assumption at the time, but now it’s left me looking like a fool.
“And the worst thing you can imagine is me leaving you, huh?”
When we arrive outside the building, I can’t tell if it’s terrible or impeccable timing. We’re only a few minutes late, and that’s good, but it means the conversation must come to a halt.
We can’t have my father overhear. It won’t look good for us even if he thinks it’s a lovers’ spat, and I can’t afford the distraction.
“Oh, be quiet,” I say. “We can’t argue right before the trial. We’re supposed to be a team, and—”
“You started the argument, princess. I’m asking clarifying questions.”
I march inside without dignifying his response with one of my own, but I barely make it in before he reaches for me. Our fingers intertwine, and his thumb brushes against the back of my hand.
“We need to settle down,” he murmurs, ducking close to my ear. His breath tickles the side of my neck, sending shivers all over my body. “We’re mates, remember?”
I nod silently. How much longer can we play pretend?
The hall is full of the same students from last time and the same professors as well.
Like before, they mingle, but now the energy is sinister. We’re in competition, and we know it.
Professor Fairweather holds out a hat full of tickets. “Take one each. Look at them, but don’t let anyone you’re not allied with see the words.”
I reach in, plucking out a folded ticket, and Jun does the same. We unwrap the small pieces of paper together.
They both say the same thing…
Innocent
.I turn to Jun with a furrowed brow. “What could this possibly mean? We’re innocent?”
That makes it seem as if someone in the room is guilty. I shudder.
“It must be part of the puzzle… but I don’t know. I guess we’ll see.”
Servers shove glasses of champagne into our hands, but I don’t dare drink. This is a mental trial; we need to keep our minds sharp.
The others have different ideas—their glasses are already empty. Good. That will give us a slight advantage.
Professor Stark makes the announcement. She clinks her glass, standing in front of the room, and we all crowd around her.
“Welcome to the first trial of l’Ordre de la Chasse Amère,” she says. “This task will be one of intelligence—but it is not one of numbers or words.”