Chapter 17: Wren - Twisted Vows

It was like clawing to the surface after sinking to the bottom of the ocean. Like blindly pushing through thick concrete. Every inch of her soul fighting, begging, to break through. But there was something holding her down. Something lulling her into a false sense of comfort. You should stay here, something seemed to whisper. Sleep. Stay. Forever. But Wren knew better than to listen to that voice. And eventually, after what felt like an eternity of fighting, she managed to rise to the surface. She managed to thrust herself back into her body and wake up.

It was nightfall. Silverish light pooled around her, trickling in from the window. Tendrils of fog brushed her legs, gently caressing her skin. Beside her was . . . nothing. No one. August was gone. Nowhere to be seen.

But she was certain she’d slept for hours. That morning should have broken by now. There was no way it was still dark. Confusion clouding her senses, Wren got to her feet, barreling out of August’s room, down the staircase, into the Pettyworth common room, and back into the cool night air. She wasn’t sure where she was going, but there was something inside her that felt off-kilter. An impending sense of doom. A certainty that something was terribly, horribly wrong.

Her body moved of its own accord, taking her farther south, toward Elysium Hall. She entered the grand hall, ignoring how ominous it felt in the dead of night. A part of her knew she could get in trouble, that if she was caught by an Ascended past curfew she’d surely be sent to reformatory, but she didn’t care. There was something she needed to do. Someone she needed to speak with.

Wren made it to the sixth floor of Elysium Hall. She searched for the mirror entrance to Housemaster Russo’s office, but found a door in its place instead. It didn’t matter. Wren would have to ask about that later.

She knocked furiously. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Th—

The door swung open.

Housemaster Russo was on the other side, eyes wide, hair disheveled. It almost looked like . . . It almost appeared that she was—

“Did I wake you?” Wren asked, slightly embarrassed.

Russo ran a hand over her dark hair, smoothing the loose pieces. She wore a robe, and she tightened it around her body, glancing around the corridor, suspicion in her eyes.

“Are you mad, Ms. Loughty?” Russo asked in a seething whisper. “Are you aware of what time it is?” She pointed to the door with an exasperated wave of her hand. “The door means that office hours are closed. I am no longer seeing students.”

“I just . . .” Wren struggled to find the right words. “I’m not sure . . .”

“If this is about missing today’s class and your incomplete assignment, we’ll have to discuss it tomorrow,” Russo interjected with a sigh. “It’s deeply inappropriate to show up this late. I’m sure your other Housemasters will be expecting to speak with you as well, given the fact that you missed your entire day’s schedule. Headmaster Silas will most certainly want a word.”

Russo’s words scrambled in Wren’s mind. “Missed today’s . . .” She shook her head, attempting to piece together what the Housemaster was saying. “I’m sorry, Housemaster, I’m just very, very confused. I didn’t miss class. And the assignment isn’t due until tomorrow mor—” But Wren’s words died in her throat when the realization punched in her the stomach. A devastating blow that hollowed her chest.

“It already happened,” she whispered, understanding washing over her. “The whole day. I slept through it.”

Russo narrowed her eyes, inspecting Wren carefully.

“Yes, Ms. Loughty.” Her tone seemed to soften slightly, as if she had suddenly become aware that Wren was truly as confused as she appeared to be. “You missed class today, and Mr. Hughes presented the completed assigned by himself. I’m forced to give him full credit.”

“Full credit?” Wren echoed. “But . . . but I helped. I was there. I went to every single one.”

Russo shook her head. “Rules are rules. In order to get full credit for the Hunt, you must show up to class on the assignment due date and present your findings. Explain how you managed to uncover each jewel. Mr. Hughes did it all himself.”

August.

“I think something happened to me,” Wren whispered, voice wobbling. “I . . . I was sleeping, but . . . I couldn’t wake up. And August—he was with me. He was with me the entire time—” But Russo cut her off with a swift motion of her hand.

“I’m not here to speculate on who did what, Ms. Loughty.” Despite the firmness in her tone, there was a deep sense of regret in her stare. “You are not the first student to be sabotaged by a classmate. This is Blackwood Academy. People will do whatever it takes to get the best grades and assure their nomination for the next Decennial.” She let out a long sigh. “Let this be your first warning of what happens when you don’t look out for yourself.” Before Wren could utter another word, Housemaster Russo was gently closing the office door in her face, offering her one final apologetic tilt of her head.

Wren stood there, dumbfounded, turning over what Russo had just told her. Denial rushed through Wren, her mind unwilling to believe that someone would be capable of betraying her this way. But then she saw the pieces all come together. The way August had slowly gained her trust over the past few days. Their playful bickering, which had slowly morphed into a twisted sense of understanding. How he had helped her through the projection of her house. His false comfort. His feigned encouragement.

It was his decision to go to his room last night, wasn’t it? He’d gone to his closet to open the bottle of whiskey. Had she seen him pour her glass? Had she noticed anything strange in the liquid?

Wren didn’t stop to think. She simply started running.

Somehow, she knew where she would find him. She stormed out of Elysium Hall and back into the night, trekking through campus with her eyes fixed forward and her mind racing. If she’d had a heartbeat, it would have been pounding in her ears, loud enough to drown out the faint whisper of night.

Eventually, Wren reached her destination. Just as she had expected, the door to Bonestrod had been left unlocked. She pushed her way inside, beelining up the staircase and out onto the rooftop.

And there, standing at the edge of the roof, hands clasped behind his back and eyes trained on the forest looming around Blackwood, was August.

“How could you?” Wren’s voice shook with hurt and anger.

August turned to face her, arms crossed. He seemed chillingly apathetic. As if their entire conversation the previous night had never happened. All the glimmers of light Wren had seen in August over the past few days, the good in him, had vanished. His eyes were cold and vacant. His expression . . . amused.

“You’ll have to narrow that down, Loughty.”

“You drugged me.” Wren made sure to emphasize each word. She wasn’t going to let him get away with this so easily. She wasn’t going to simply let him stand there and pretend that he didn’t give a damn about anything. About her. “You made me sleep in. You made me miss Russo’s class. You took credit for the assignment.”

August made a mocking pout with his lips, shrugging.

“Sounds like you’ve got it figured out, then.”

“So you don’t deny it?” Wren asked. She’d hoped he would. She’d hoped he’d have some sort of explanation. Some way to prove that he hadn’t meant to do this. That this hadn’t been his intent from the very start.

August’s response was simple. Not an inkling of remorse in his voice.

“I don’t.”

Wren shook her head. “But I thought . . .” She trailed off, the words she wanted to say swept away by an invisible current. What had she thought? That she could fix him? That he was somehow changing? That he wasn’t the monster everyone made him out to be? August must have read the unspoken words written upon her face, because he chuckled, a grim smile splitting his face.

“Oh, Loughty.” August sucked his teeth. “Did you really believe I was different? That I was . . . that I was falling for you? That you could trust me?”

Maybe she had. But what was wrong with that? What was wrong with believing that people could be good? That he could be good? Even now, Wren didn’t fully buy this apathetic front August was putting on. Not after everything she had seen over the past few days. Not after the night they had just shared.

“Why did you do it?” she asked, crossing the distance between them with a few quick strides. “There . . . there has to be a reason. Something you’re not telling me.” But maybe that was her trying to rationalize his behavior. Desperate to find some explanation as to why he would betray her this way.

“You’re right,” August said, nodding. “I did do it for a reason.” For a moment, hope blossomed in Wren’s chest, though it quickly vanished as August stepped forward, poison dripping from every word as he continued to speak. “You can’t trust anybody at this school. Even those who seem to be on your side. Even those you might begin to consider friends. At the end of the day, everybody is out to protect themselves. To come out on top.”

Wren was certain that if she’d been capable of feeling physical pain, she’d have felt the agony of her heart shattering. An aching wound in her chest. “So . . . you betrayed me to teach me a lesson?” she seethed, stubborn tears burning behind her eyes.

“Exactly,” August said matter-of-factly. When Wren didn’t respond, August let out a groan and continued. “It wasn’t personal, Loughty. I needed you to toughen up. To learn to put yourself first. To never trust anybody at this school again.” He shrugged, smirking. “Not to mention that this gets me one step closer to the Decennial nomination.”

Wren’s vision blurred as the tears behind her eyes doubled. “Well. Congratulations. It worked.”

For a fraction of a second, August’s apathetic mask fractured. A bitterness welled behind his eyes. The faintest hint of regret. “Don’t give me that look. It’s not the end of the world. You’ll catch up . . .” He trailed off, and Wren could hardly contain her rage as his lips curved into a smug grin. “Eventually.”

“Fuck you,” Wren snapped, wiping the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand. She refused to give him the satisfaction of wearing her betrayal so visibly for him to see.

This is the last time, Wren vowed silently. The last time I will ever waste a single tear on Augustine Hughes.

“Ouch.” August mockingly rubbed his chest, as if her words had wounded him. “Come on, Loughty. You can’t hate me forever.”

“I can,” Wren shot back without hesitation. “And I will.”

She’d hate him for the rest of eternity. She’d hate him until the very end.

“Is that a promise?” August asked, his voice dipping lower. His eyes roved over her face, assessing her, searching. But what was he searching for? He’d already taken her pride. Her trust. What else did he want to take from her?

“I told you things,” Wren muttered, voice shaking. “I opened myself up to you. I let myself feel—” But Wren cut herself off, unwilling to go any further. There was no point in trying to get August to understand why she’d been so hurt by his actions. It was clear that he was beyond reasoning with. Instead, Wren inhaled a cleansing breath, pushing down the hurt and pain, and allowed the anger and fury to rise to the surface. She welcomed it. She let it wash over her, surging through her.

“I can promise you this, Augustine Hughes.” Wren narrowed her gaze, stepping even closer, their faces mere inches apart. “From this moment on, I vow to make the rest of your wretched eternity a living hell.”

August chuckled. “Is that so?”

Wren stepped closer. “Yes.”

“And how do you intend to do that?” August asked, sighing.

“For starters?” Wren gripped August tightly by his collar, pulling him toward her with a sharp tug. For a moment, August’s face contorted in confusion. It almost appeared as though she was bringing him in for a kiss, as though she intended to place her lips upon his.

But Wren had something else in mind.

Using all the strength she had, Wren extended her arms, pushing August with her full force. He stumbled. Lost his footing. Fumbled backward, until—

August slipped from the edge of the rooftop.