Chapter 19 #3
“You can’t tell me what to do,” he spat. “I’m a grown man, and I’ll make my own decisions.”
“Maybe we should leave,” Dante growled in my ear, his breath blowing tendrils of my hair against my cheek.
“I have a good job working for administration,” Graham said. “The band is getting more and more gigs. We’re making enough to cover our rents and more. We’re doing better than most in the Third Ring. Why risk that?”
“Because I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t try,” Harrison snapped.
“What—” I started to intervene but got no further.
Sophie was the only one who’d even heard me speak. She glanced my way apologetically, her eyes widening when she saw the towering shirtless hunk beside me.
“People die, Harrison!” Graham screamed.
“This isn’t a game. It isn’t something you just do on a whim.
These Trials are dangerous. They kill people.
I should know, working with the records like I do.
Do you know how many people have died from the third Trial alone?
And no one beats them! No one. You can’t possibly think—”
“More people are taking the Oath this year than ever before, Graham,” Harrison argued, shaking his head. “I have to be a part of it. Can’t you see that? This is our generation’s moment, our people’s moment, our Ring’s moment. And I have to be a part of it. I have to.”
“You’re not Adrian!”
I flinched.
“We should go,” Dante repeated in my ear, his hand finding mine. “Adrian.”
“You won’t get paired up with a First Ringer,” Graham continued. “You won’t pass four Trials. You won’t move up to the Second, and you won’t make history, Harrison. A thousand years! Don’t be a fool. Don’t risk your life, don’t risk everything, for a nearly nonexistent chance at glory.”
“You don’t understand.” Harrison shook his head again. “I knew you wouldn’t understand. But it isn’t your choice. It’s mine. And I’m doing this.”
“Harrison—”
“Adrian, help me out!” Harrison’s gaze shot to me.
I gaped at them both, glancing from him to his brother and back.
“Oh, I—” I stuttered. “I don’t think I should get involved.”
“I agree,” Graham spat, his glare vicious.
“Graham,” Sophie hissed.
“This is foolish,” he said as though he hadn’t heard her. “Taking those Oaths, swearing your life away, just to make yourself a prime candidate for the Culling. It’s ridiculous.”
“The Culling doesn’t pull from just Oathtakers anymore.” My voice was low, full of grief, even to my own ears.
Sophie’s gaze lifted and there was sorrow there, an apology she wouldn’t voice aloud. Dante squeezed my hand where it rested in his own.
Graham’s shoulders slumped slightly. “Adrian—”
“You’re right, Harrison,” I cut in. “It’s your choice.
Yours and no one else’s. But I didn’t make mine because I wanted to advance my family, nor because I wanted glory or thought I could make it.
I made a promise to Darius. I made a vow that I would join him when the time came, and when it did, even though he was no longer here, I honored that vow.
But if I’d never made that promise, I wouldn’t have entered. ”
They all stared at me, silent.
“Do what you have to do,” I told him. “But don’t let anyone else tell you what that is.”
I turned and left them standing in the living room.
I retreated to my bedroom, already reaching for my clothes as Dante entered behind me.
I slid into my jeans and then pulled off Dante’s shirt.
I tossed it to him as I slid into my own.
He held it against his chest for a moment, watching me, before putting it back on as well.
“Adrian,” Sophie said, appearing in my doorway. I glanced over to her and her eyes widened as she took in the rumpled sheets and the man dressing himself beside them. But then her gaze snapped back to mine. “I’m so sorry.”
I shook my head as I sat on the edge of my bed and slid my boots back onto my feet.
“Don’t worry about it,” I grumbled.
“You were…busy and we just barged in—“ she started, trying not to glance at Dante again and failing.
“It’s Harrison’s apartment too. He’s free to come and go as he pleases, no matter how busy I am.”
Dante snorted.
“Still—“
Boots on, I stood and wrapped Sophie in a hug that surprised her so much she straightened.
“Thank you for the party, Sophie,” I told her. “It was really fun.”
“I’m glad you…had fun,” she replied, eyes trailing back to Dante again.
My partner grinned cockily as I told her goodbye and we headed out of my room.
He seemed to understand my need to escape without my having to verbalize it.
It had been nice but the mention of Darius in that apartment once again had me running in the opposite direction.
I would face it, eventually, I knew I would. But not tonight.
Dante fell in beside me on the walk back to the Eastern gate and all the way up to the First Ring.
It was very late when we arrived at the estate.
We hadn’t spoken a word to one another on the walk back, but I’d caught him glancing my way once or twice as if checking on me, and I’d done the same for him.
We were both yawning by the time we set foot in the foyer, but we froze the moment we crossed the threshold.
Myrine stood in the center of the foyer, wearing her pajamas, bare feet and all. Her hair had come loose from its bounds, her face was paler than usual, and heavy bags rested under her eyes. She looked sick, sick with worry.
“Mom?” Dante asked tentatively, fearfully.
She blinked at him. “We need to talk about the fifth Trial.”
Dante and I exchanged a glance.
“We can talk in the morning,” he said gently, moving forward to usher his mother to bed.
“No, you don’t understand.” Myrine yanked back from her son’s grasp. “It’s dangero—It’s not what you—It’s—”
She gave a growl of frustration, and my lips parted as I realized what was happening. I was witnessing someone being physically restrained by the Oath.
“Mom, please,” Dante pleaded, worry creasing his brow.
“It’s going to be hard,” Myrine spat, hurriedly, as if afraid that Dante was going to stop her again. “It’s going to be more difficult than anything you’ve done so far, anything you’ve ever done your whole lives.”
I just stared at her. That was sort of the point of the Trials, wasn’t it? That they got harder with each level you passed.
“I’ve been trying to tell you,” she continued, practically raving now. “I’ve been trying to tell you since you got here. Only trust will get you through it. Trust in each other and in the Geist.”
I restrained the urge to scoff. I’d never trusted the Geist, and I wasn’t likely to start now.
“We can talk about this tomorrow, mother,” Dante again pleaded gently. “You can train us for—”
“There will be no training.” Myrine’s face returned to a mask of cold indifference as she straightened and pulled out of her son’s grip once more. “Nothing can prepare you for this. You either can…or you can’t.”
She turned on her heels, leaving Dante and I staring at one another, horrified.