Chapter 13: Wren - Twisted Vows

“You okay?”

Wren blinked, refocusing her attention on Maya. She had no idea how long she’d been disassociating, staring blankly at the wall, completely unaware that Maya had been talking to her.

“Yeah.” Wren cleared her throat. “Sorry. Just a bit distracted today.”

Distracted was the understatement of the century. Wren couldn’t stop turning over the previous night in her mind. The way she had begun to acknowledge the strange connection she shared with August, only to watch him massacre two students right in front of her eyes without a moment’s hesitation. The crunch of bones. The stench of blood. She couldn’t get it out of her head. So even though she knew Maya was doing her a favor by helping her with this spacial magic nonsense, Wren couldn’t find the willpower to concentrate on anything the girl was saying.

But she was trying. She really was. They’d spent the past two hours attempting to get Wren to connect with her spacial reserve and relocate outside Pettyworth. She’d managed to relocate a couple of feet across the room, but more than that felt impossible. Like she was tearing at her insides. Scraping the bottom of her soul, searching for something that didn’t exist—though Maya insisted it was there, waiting for her.

She just had to find it.

“That’s all right,” Maya said encouragingly. She was sitting on one of the chairs by the hearth in Pettyworth’s common room, knees tucked to her chest. “You know, spacial magic is notoriously difficult. It seems like the simplest of all the magical affinities, but it’s actually the most complex. I mean, it’s how we navigate the Ether in the first place. How we find lost souls. Without spacial magic . . . we’d have no purpose.”

Wren shivered at the thought. She hadn’t explored the Ether yet—given that she wasn’t allowed to enter until having been at Blackwood for at least a month—but she hadn’t stopped imagining what might be lurking in the enigmatic passageway. What it must feel like to usher a lost soul into the Other Side.

Wren let out a sigh. “Sounds like I have a lot of work to do, then.”

“You’ll get there,” Maya said, chuckling. “Don’t worry. You have plenty of time. You won’t get your first reaping assignment until you’ve been here a full month. The more you practice relocating, the better. It’s the easiest way to strengthen your spacial magic.” Her eyes suddenly darted behind Wren, the smile on her lips falling away. Her brow pinched in a frown. Her face ghostly white.

“Looks like you have a visitor,” she muttered.

Wren glanced over her shoulder. On the other side of the room, out of earshot, was August. He was leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, eyes fixed on Wren.

“Shit.” Wren winced, turning back to Maya. “I completely forgot I was supposed to meet him half an hour ago . . .” When she noticed the concern building in Maya’s gaze, Wren quickly added, “We’re partners, remember? For Russo’s class.”

“Right.” Maya nodded, swallowing. Her entire disposition seemed to shift now that August was in their vicinity. She stood up, smoothing the creases in her shirt. As Wren began to gather her things, picking up her trench coat from the couch, Maya’s voice echoed behind her once more.

“Um . . . Wren.” She cleared her throat, grimacing. “Sorry. Before you go . . . I just . . . I won’t be able to sleep tonight if I don’t say this.”

Wren braced herself. She turned to face Maya again.

“Go ahead.”

“Just . . .” Maya let out a sigh. “Just remember what I told you about him. August isn’t to be trusted. I’d hate to see you get hurt.”

At Maya’s whispered warning, a sudden emotion rose inside Wren. One she couldn’t quite understand. She knew that Maya meant well, that she thought she was doing Wren a favor, but Wren couldn’t help but feel a strange sting of . . . bitterness. Of protectiveness.

“Actually . . .” Wren shifted on her feet. “If it weren’t for August, I would have been sent to the infirmary yesterday.”

Maya blinked, taken aback. “What do you mean?”

“We were ambushed,” Wren explained. “Someone attacked us. August stopped them before they could hurt me.”

Maya’s face scrunched in confusion. “He . . . protected you?”

Wren shrugged. “I guess, if you want to put it that way.”

Maya stepped closer. “Listen to me, Wren. Augustine Hughes has never done anything for anyone but himself. If he protected you . . . there’s a reason he did. A reason I would bet on my soul favors him.”

“Why are you so certain?” Wren asked.

“Don’t you feel it?” Maya asked, head cocked. “When you look at him?”

“Feel what?”

Maya shuddered. “Darkness.”

Wren thought back to the previous night. To the look in August’s eyes as he stood before her, soaked in blood, carnage and fury burning in his gray eyes. She’d seen it then—that darkness. But she’d seen something else reflected in that same darkness. Something that she hadn’t wanted to admit in the moment, too ashamed and confused to face it. But now, as she thought back on it, as she heard Maya’s warnings, she couldn’t help but confront it. Because she hadn’t just seen the darkness in August—she’d recognized it.

She’d understood it.

Wren slipped her trench coat on. She gave an affirming squeeze on Maya’s shoulder.

“I’ll see you later, Maya.”

The other girl gave a feeble smile in return. Somehow, she must have sensed that Wren wasn’t entirely taking her warning to heart. “Sure.” She nodded, retreating to her seat. “I’ll see you later, Wren.”

Before Maya could impart another warning, Wren walked away, crossing to the other side of the room. She approached August, who straightened his shoulders and pushed himself off the doorframe.

“Hello,” Wren said with a tight-lipped smile.

August nodded in greeting.

“What was that about?” he asked, gesturing toward Maya with a tilt of his chin. She was still curled up on the couch, knees tucked to her chest, watching them from afar.

“Well.” Wren sighed. “Our partnership seems to be a bit of a concern to my new friend.”

August nodded, and Wren could see the tension in his shoulders as his eyes darted between her and Maya. “She hates me.”

“She’s terrified of you,” Wren corrected him, chuckling.

August dragged his gaze back to Wren. He looked her up and down, stepping closer.

“Are you?”

Heat radiated in the space between them as August’s question echoed in the air.

“Am I what?” Wren asked, acutely aware of how close they suddenly were to one another.

“Terrified . . .” August whispered, low and hoarse, “ . . . of me?”

Wren considered his question for a moment. She thought back on the August she had seen the previous night. Covered with blood. The feral gleam in his eyes. The darkness. But when she looked back up at him, it wasn’t fear she felt radiating in her chest.

It was something else. Something far more concerning.

“If I was terrified of you . . .” Wren replied slowly, “ . . . I wouldn’t be here.”

August assessed her for a moment longer before sucking in a breath and saying “Very well.” He opened the door with a snap of his fingers. “Sounds like we have a third jewel to find, then.”

Wren waved him forward.

“Lead on.”

August smirked, stepping out of Pettyworth and into the afternoon light. “Was already planning on it.”

* * *

The room was called the Opal Chamber. Wren had heard whispers of it in her classes—the hall at Blackwood that held the infamous portal that allowed students to travel into the Ether, the liminal landscape where lost souls roamed. Given the fact that she’d yet to master her spacial magic, Wren had assumed it would be weeks before she’d set foot in the mystical chamber.

It appeared her assumptions were incorrect.

The third item led them straight into the heart of the Opal Chamber. Wren had to admit, there was a reverent quality in the air the moment they stepped into the grand hall. Prismatic rays of color danced over the marble floors, cascading in through the stained-glass windows. Ominous gargoyles and grotesques loomed over them like specters in the night, watching Wren and August as they silently walked down the chamber and approached the portal. Which, much to Wren’s surprise, was just a simple arched door.

“We’re not going in there to find the jewel, are we?” Wren asked warily.

August shook his head. “Russo wouldn’t send us into the Ether. It’s got to be somewhere else . . . somewhere hidden in this room.”

Just as the words left his lips, Wren spotted something on the floor. Two glass vials in front of the portal.

“Maybe not so hidden,” she murmured, bending down to pick up the vials. She raised them in the air, and August stepped closer, inspecting them with narrowed eyes. The glass vials were clear, a vibrant green liquid sloshing inside. An elegant R was etched into the glass, and there was a note tied to each one. Three words written in black ink.

MIND INTEGRATION ELIXIR.

The moment August read the note, he let out a deep groan, rubbing his face with his hands. “Shit.” He ground his teeth, cursing under his breath. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“What?” Wren looked between August and the note. “What does that mean?”

“It means the final jewel incorporates psyche magic,” August explained through a sigh. Psyche magic? Wren hardly knew anything about it. Housemaster Wesley hadn’t actually let her do anything in class yet—A mind is a volatile thing, he had said. Best we wait till your magic is a bit stronger.

“I thought this was a corporeal class,” Wren replied.

“Magic isn’t singular,” August shot back, pinching the bridge of his nose. Frustration punctuated every word. “It’s an interconnected hive. Oftentimes they overlap. One can’t exist without the other. Corporeal magic will still be used, but . . . the challenge begins with mind integration.”

“English,” Wren snapped. “Please.”

August sighed again. “We have to enter each other’s minds.”

Wren stared at him, unblinking. “Excuse me?” she said slowly.

“Or, rather”—August rubbed at his temples—“combine minds, technically. Become a single consciousness.”

Wren staggered backward and leaned against the portal. “I think I’m having a stroke.”

“Our minds will become one, and we’ll enter a psyche landscape of our combined consciousnesses,” August went on, ignoring Wren’s dramatics. He seemed to be spiraling himself, pacing back and forth, fidgeting restlessly with the silver ring on his index finger. “By the sound of it, we’ll be presented with our challenge there. Knowing Russo, we’ll probably have to find a way to work together. Escape some sort of mind puzzle . . .”

“No way,” Wren interjected, shaking her head. “You’re not getting anywhere near my mind.”

“I’m not exactly jumping at the prospect either, darling.” August scoffed, crossing his arms. “I don’t want you in my mind just as much as you don’t want me in yours.”

“Yeah . . . probably ’cause it’s full of nefarious secrets.”

August snorted. “You have no idea.”

Wren groaned. “This can’t be happening.”

“It’s the final jewel, Loughty.” Resignation flooded August’s voice. He snatched the vials from her hand, giving them a firm shake. “We do this, we get that jewel, and we’re done. Assignment over.”

Wren knew August was right. The faster they drank the elixirs, the closer they’d be to completing the assignment. And the closer they were to completing the assignment, the closer they’d be to ending their partnership.

Which is a good thing, Wren reminded herself, doing her best to ignore the hollow pit in her stomach that had suddenly formed at the thought of not being near August anymore.

“That does sound nice,” she muttered half-heartedly.

“Come on, Loughty,” August drawled. He dangled one of the vials in front of Wren’s face, grinning. “I know you’ve been dying to get rid of me.”

Wren hesitated, gnawing the inside of her cheek, before snatching the elixir out of August’s hand. She stared at it, assessing the strange green liquid. Bubbles formed at the top, a faint shimmer traveling up and down the bottle.

Wren groaned. “Screw it.”

She uncorked the elixir and August followed suit.

“Cheers,” August muttered with a wary smirk.

Wren sighed.

“Cheers.”

They clinked vials, swigging the contents in unison before either of them could second-guess what they were doing.

The liquid was bitter and tart. A strange cooling effect traveled down Wren’s throat and into the pit of her stomach, numbing her body. She stared up at August, half expecting to feel something tug at her mind, for a connection to form between them. But there was nothing. She blinked, confused.

“Is something supposed to happen?” Wren asked.

August closed his eyes. “Just wait for it.”

“For what?” Wren asked.

August’s lips curved into a smirk, and—