Prologue #4
She’d tried so hard to make a good first impression, with her best outfit and her neatest braid and even that dollar-store lipstick she’d found last week, and now they’d think she didn’t mind inconveniencing them.
Frankly, though, they’d inconvenienced her too. What had Hugh been poised to say?
Whatever he’d intended, he now turned his attention to the headmaster’s statement.
He spoke clearly and loudly. “Today’s testing is scheduled to last another half hour. The proceedings are in no way delayed. Ms. Wexloff will arrive shortly.”
After receiving that calm but pointed rebuke, the headmaster paused. “Very well, Mr. Blacke.”
The speaker went silent once more, and Gwen peered at Hugh, entirely befuddled.
How had the headmaster recognized the other male’s voice so easily and quickly? And why had he deferred to Hugh’s authority concerning the verification panel, which wasn’t even in the young demon’s purview?
She rose to her feet and grabbed her tote, dread and confusion roiling her stomach.
“I need to go.” Loath to let their nascent connection slip away without a fight, though, she cast him a pleading glance. “Look, Hugh, maybe we can talk more after my test? If you wait here or out in the hallway until I’m done—”
“I…” He didn’t quite meet her gaze. “I’m on the panel, Gwen. I’m coming with you.”
Shock rooted Gwen in place. “What?”
“You didn’t tell her?” Smile collapsing in on itself, Eloise shifted out from under his arm and regarded her twin with disappointment. “Hugh…”
He shifted his weight, his tone turning more formal as he addressed Gwen. “Since you’re today’s last candidate, I felt it best to personally escort you into the auditorium.”
“Ah,” she said, as if she understood his reasoning. Although she didn’t.
If he’d only intended to escort her, why had he missed Matilda’s test to do so?
Couldn’t he simply have arrived between tests?
And why the hells hadn’t he told her who and what he was instead of allowing her to think he was one of the inspectors?
Had he been trying to catch her off guard for some reason?
Did he want to find out ahead of time whether or not she contained sufficient power for the panelists to verify? Or whether she planned to cheat them somehow?
He’d held her freaking hand. If she didn’t know better, she’d think the headmaster and the Council had concocted a weird honeypot scheme for her.
Why go to all that bother, though, for someone with such limited importance as Gwendolen Wexloff?
Did they resent the money they’d wasted on an oracular dud all these years that much?
Before condemning Hugh as the Mata Hari of SERC, she wanted to be sure. “Did you deliberately lead me to believe you were one of the inspectors rather than a panelist in hopes I might tell you things I’d otherwise keep to myself?”
“Yes.” He hesitated. “I—yes. That’s correct.”
She stared hard at him, all the flustered warmth of her burgeoning attraction cooling into chilly disappointment.
He met her eyes. Stared back at her with intent attention, as if silently taking her measure. Then his shoulders dropped. With a silent sigh, he gave another tiny nod.
“We should go.” He spoke without inflection, seemingly unmoved by both his sister’s scowl and Gwen’s stricken, confused anger. “The panel is, in fact, waiting.”
In a crisp movement, he swiveled on his heel and led the way toward the door.
She obediently followed in his wake, even as mingled betrayal and anxiety threatened to buckle her knees beneath her. Her short-trimmed fingernails bit into her scabbed palms hard enough to sting.
Hugh Blacke isn’t important now except as a panelist, she told herself. Worry about what’s about to happen in that auditorium, not your hurt feelings.
Gods and goddesses knew, she had plenty of cause for dread there. She needed a damn miracle, pronto. Without one…
She couldn’t bear to think about the consequences.
“Ms. Wexloff.” Hugh paused in the doorway, his sharp jaw working. “This test doesn’t require any feats of memory or ingenuity. Simply prophesize in your accustomed manner, and all will be well.”
He spoke to the door, not her, and his neutral tone obscured whether his comments were meant to be comforting or merely factual. Either way, they didn’t ease her hurt and resentment or change her awful situation.
If she prophesized in her usual manner, all would not be well. Not for her.
And worse than that: not for her family either.
—
Half an hour later, Hugh, Eloise, and the other panelists filed out of the auditorium. The door clicked shut behind them.
Gwen sat alone under the spotlight and wept, her sobs echoing in the empty room.
And when she finally left to call her family and confess her failure, she was sure of only one thing in this godsforsaken universe: From now until the day she fucking died, she’d avoid anything and anyone that would remind her of the catastrophic decisions she’d made in this auditorium.
Hugh might have offered himself as a future resource before leaving, but his stilted, pro forma offer had been pointless.
She would never, ever voluntarily see or speak to him or any member of that panel again.
That much, at least, she knew.
No prophecy necessary.