Page 5 of Say It Slowly

Roman sets his drink down and walks up to me. “You’re here,” he says, his tone deep. “Now we can begin.”

I hold up the invite—the guy at the door just glanced at it, he didn’t take it. “What’s this about? I thought Tyler had already been dealt with.”

Roman shoves his hands into his pockets and shrugs. “The guys and I have been talking, and we think Tyler may have been behind the car incident the other night.”

The car incident.What a polite way to say, “We think he’s the one who tried to smear you across the asphalt.”

“Why?”

“There have been whispers across campus that Tyler blames you for being expelled from ExU, and kicked out of the Burning Crown. He says you lied about being attacked, or some shit.”

What?“But people saw him!” I squeak defensively.

“I know, I know,” he says calmly, taking me by the arms. “We’ve got this under control. Trust us.”

I want to laugh at that. Trusting Roman and hisbrosis like trusting a fox in a henhouse. Sure, dude. Let me squeeze right into that trust circle.

Christian stands up. “Yo, it’s twenty after. We’d better get this shit started.”

Roman nods at Christian before his gaze shifts back to me. “Lindsay will show you to the ceremony room.”

The girl who fetched me from the foyer appears at my elbow, a white shimmery robe draped over her arm. She holds it out to me, and I slip into it. It cascades softly over my body, flowing outward regally. As Lindsay is pulling the separate hood over my head, I look around and see the guys getting into their navy blue robes, too.

“Why is mine white?” I ask.

“The queen always wears white,” Roman says, pulling the hood over his head. “Plus, you’re not a member.”

That’s still a loophole I don’t quite understand. “Then why am I here?”

“This Tyler shit involves you,” he answers evenly.

“I’ll show you into the ceremony room,” Lindsay says, pulling my attention away from Roman. I follow her to the far end of the room. I’m seriously confused when we walk to the back of the study, to a wall of built-in bookcases. She pushes one section of the bookcase inward to reveal a secret room beyond the narrow doorway that appears.

“Oh, wow,” I say, stepping inside. It’s a circular room, and the walls are a beautiful white marble. The floor is covered in beautiful tiles that spell out something in Latin,Semper Fidelis. Above us, there’s a fresco on the ceiling; angels and demons surrounding a golden crown on fire. “This room is huge. I had no idea it was even here.”

“That’s the idea,” Lindsay says, leading me to a raised platform with eight chairs all in a row, inlaid with gold, like thrones. The two chairs in the middle are the largest, each flanked by three smaller chairs.

What in the Harry Potter is happening right now?

Lindsay leads me to the large chair on the right. “This is where you’ll be sitting,” she says, and I take a seat, folding the shimmery robe over my knees. “Once everyone has filed into the room, you’ll stand, and Roman will say a few words.”

“Okay,” I answer. “And then what happens?”

She fluffs out the bottom of my robe, waving off my question. “Don’t worry, the guys will do most of the talking.”

Yeah, there’s a difference betweenall of the talkingandmost of the talkingthough, and I’d like to hammer out those details. But before I can ask, the sacred Sons start filling into the room. Three girls trail behind them, all wearing dark, navy-blue robes.

I lean down and whisper to Lindsay, “Are these girls the consorts?”

She glances over her shoulder, then back at me. “Yeah. They’ll sit in the three chairs next to you. The guys will sit next to Roman.”

As the three girls walk across the large, circular room, I take the opportunity to study them. Weirdly, I haven’t met them before this, but to be fair, I’ve been trying my best to stay out of this secret society shit. Making friends with members hasn’t been on my to-do list lately.

They all look like carbon copies of each other—thin, blond, with scowls that could rival any supermodel on the catwalk. They look about as happy to be here as I am.

None of them even acknowledges me as they walk up and take their seats in the chairs to my right. Maybe I’m just imagining it, but I can practicallyfeelthem seething. I’m sure seeingme, a non-member, sitting in the queen’s seat is an insult they’re having difficulty swallowing. But whatever. I’m here, and I guess we all just have to get used to it. For now, anyway.

They guys take their seats, Roman occupying the large throne to my left. He settles back into the intricately carved wood with an ease and confidence I envy. He’s so unbothered by all this fanfare, it’s wild.

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