Page 22 of Wicked Court

Keep it safe.

Gram’s words swarm like a gnat cloud in my head.

What does that even mean? If the Wraithwoods were supposed to keep the necklace safe, why isn’t in a bank vault?

The necklace in my bag feels heavier now that I know what it represents. I didn’t feel comfortable leaving it in my shoe box, because I’ve realized it’s not just an heirloom. It’s a key, a shackle, a riddle as haunting as Titan Falls history.

The ruby is jagged, like it broke off from something. It’s shaped like a fat lightning bolt. If I actually wore it, one of its sharp tips would point directly to my heart.

Gram might’ve tried to explain the controversy around this amulet when she gave it to me. I was so devastated by Maverick’s death, I didn’t want to hear it.

So instead, I’m carrying around this cursed necklace in the front pocket of my backpack, pretending like it’s just another school day and that four incredibly nebulous men haven’t suddenly cornered me.

My frustration must show on my face. I’m not pulled into conversations or asked to get involved in the upcoming activities like I usually am between classes. Lots of people say hello and I stop and chat to a few of my closer friends, but they’re short-lived. I’m too distracted to contribute anything.

Despite my misgivings, I make it to all my classes without running into any of the guys. It’s a relief not to have Ancient History today so I can embrace the time off from their silent judgment. They’ve only recently decided to pay attention to me, but it’s fucking effective.

What do they think about when they look at me? Why do I care?

I’m tempted to just avoid them and complete my assignments behind the gates of the Wraithwood estate until they get bored, but my heavy curiosity prevents such a thing from happening. No, I’d much rather figure out what’s so important that they’re chasing me down.

Calculus is my last class of the day. I’m filing in with everyone else, my daily routine settling comfortably around my shoulders, when I spot Darcy O’Neill taking her seat in the one directly behind mine. She’s pulled back her raven hair in a tight bun, with tendrils falling on her face while she studies something intently on her phone.

Darcy has the privilege any kid who isn’t already stupid-rich dreams about. Her parents pay for her to attend TFU, but like a lot of children of the elite, she doesn’t have to work hard to achieve perfect grades. She goes to enough classes to keep her attendance acceptable but otherwise parties, experiments, and goes through boys like her daily pack of cigarettes.

I’m not judging. To me, it simply shows that she’s connected on campus and has potentially damaging information on anyone at this school.

“Hey, Darcy,” I greet while dropping my bag on the empty seat next to me.

“Hey, girl.” She doesn’t look up from her tiny screen. “Did you have fun last night?”

I pause in pulling out my laptop. This is the thing about Darcy. You never know what she knows.

“Sure,” I say with feigned nonchalance. “Wasn’t much different earlier this year. Or the year before that.”

“You don’t think a new ritual leader was different?” She looks up from her phone, and there’s a gleam in her eye that’s vaguely wicked. “I saw you get cornered by all the skull masks, then make a fast exit. Not that they had to wear masks.” She leans back and laughs softly. “Everyone knew who they were. What mystified me is why they wanted to play with you.”

I keep my expression placid. I expected this from her. What’s more important is that I get the information I want while she amuses herself. “Believe me, I’m just as confused. Until yesterday, I thought they didn't know who I was.”

Darcy just smiles. “I witnessed every single one of them go after you.”

“That’s what I’m hoping you could help me with.” I glance over my shoulder at the professor readying his materials to begin, hoping there’s still enough time. “What do you know about them? Cav, Axe, Kaspian and Wilder?”

Darcy’s smile grows wider. “I know they’re more than just rich guys who like to chase pretty girls.”

She glances forward at the professor, then narrows her eyes conspiratorially at me. “They’re in the Cimmerian Court.”

“The—what?” The name sounds familiar, but I ignore the chill spreading over the nape of my neck and focus on her words.

Darcy doesn’t answer immediately. I wait, letting her take another drag off her vape while my knee bounces with frenetic energy.

Darcy eventually answers, “Secret society.”

Like that explains everything.

“I need more than that,” I press, furrowing my brows.

She nods with a self-important air that suggests she’s about to drop some bombshell gossip. “It’s old as shit, started at the end of the 17th century and super exclusive. Supposedly, they have this legacy to uphold in order to maintain their status as the most powerful families on campus. And beyond. There’s also this whole myth about them being cursed and involving themselves in the occult.” Darcy rolls her eyes while twirling her vape. “Cav believes it. Wilder’s obsessed with proving it wrong while Kaspian is on the tech side of things and has kept his family’s dirty past from unraveling publicly. And Axe, always thought to be the dumbest one, thinks of it more like a gift to his family, if he can prove he deserves it.”

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