Page 74 of All Saints: Pledge

He undoes the clasp, and then opens a black velvet box from my desk. I turn to watch him drape the necklace in, then close it with a snap.

“Sleep well,” he says.

“Okay,” I agree.

Neither of us moves.

Then, slowly, he steps toward me again. His hand raises, and I think for a moment he’s going to caress my cheek. And I’m one hundred percent going to let him. Instead, he reaches up, and tugs the wilting lily free of my hair. Without a word, he gives me the smallest of smiles, tucks the flower into his breast pocket, and turns to leave the room.

32

Clara looks equally exhausted. We each bend over our sinks with washcloths, yawning. I don’t think I’ve ever washed my face that fast in my life, and she says only a few words other than “goodnight” to me before shutting her door firmly. The gas fire is still on, my small room something out of a historical novel. It has so much more charm than generic American hotels.

And this… this will be my life if I’m inducted into All Saints. Glamorous parties until the wee hours of the morning at Irish estates. Handsome, mysterious men in tuxedoes. A free pass to achieve my dreams. To make life better forotherpeople. This is the first time I let it sink in that those things could absolutely berealityfor future me. I met with someone in the Prime Minister’s cabinet today for God’s sake. What started out as surreal promises suddenly feels all too real. They’ve done a good job upping the stakes for this final test.

On the flip side, tomorrow could bring me…the end. The end of Oxford. I have enough for maybe one more term, but after that, there’s no way for my family to afford anything other than community college back home. I’ll…what? Get a job as a baristaat Starbucks so that I have health insurance? Go to school part time?

The thing is, I believe in myself. I know I can still make a difference and achieve what I want to achieve, but now that I’ve discovered this magical shortcut? This pathway lined with diamonds and starlight, and yes…goons who abduct me and men who duct tape me into dresses? I will always resent the extra years I could have saved myself. Years before being able to affectgenuine changeon the national and international levels. All the years I will be less effective, fighting for the right for normal people to exist. Fighting misogyny and apathy and nepotism. Fighting to get a foothold in the world instead of walking into a powerful position.

I am not oblivious to the irony. I’m banking on a diamond and darkness-littered path to boost my true ambition to help the average and down-trodden. People with no access to the path. And so help me, something in my blood sings here. I feel called to play this game, to show the world that a little girl from Denver Colorado can bespecial.

There’s a distant knocking, and I turn, looking at the door. It didn’t sound like it came from the door. Maybe someone further away, like at Clara’s door? What if it’s Augustine? Or that Beatrice girl? The knocking comes again, and I cross the door, pulling it open. Dark hallway greets my eyes. No one.

I close and firmly lock the door, then go back to the mirror and start pulling pins out of my hair. My tiredness is making me paranoid.

A noise behind me causes me to jump and spin. My water bottle is in my hand in an instant, the only quasi-weapon I can find on short notice, as I turn toward the fireplace.

Someoneisin my room. Someone who didn’t use the very much locked door. Without thinking, I wind up and chuck themetal bottle. Even if it’s a ghost, maybe I’ll distract it long enough to make a run for it.

Not a ghost. The water bottle makes a metallic thud as it bounces off my would-be attacker.

“Jesus, Helena! It’s just me.”

I pause mid-flight. It’s Kendall. He’s standing in front of a door. A door that had not been there a moment ago. I gape at the paneling hanging open beside the still-crackling fire. “Is that a door in my fireplace?”

“Yes. I wanted to come see if it was locked,” he says as he steps further into my room and swings the door shut behind him. It’s unnervingly silent for a house that is supposed to be a million years old. “It’s not.”

“Clearly,” I say, holding my hand to my heart. It’s still racing. “Well, shit.”

“We’ll lock it from this side, then I’ll leave through the door and you lock that behind me too.”

“That’s some Scooby Doo level stuff,” I say uneasily as I eye the paneling.

“After all the stuff I told you about how the organization runs, you’re surprised that there’s a secret passage to a bedroom?” He raises his eyebrow before handing me back my water bottle.

“Jesus. We have to go warn Clara.” I make for the door, but his hand comes out and grabs my arm.

“It’s not every bedroom. Hers doesn’t have one. I asked my father. When he said the old servant’s stairs led to this room, I decided to make sure it was locked. Just…in case.”

“In case…”

“In case.” He’s firm. That’s all the answer I’m going to get.

Now I wish the water bottle had something stronger in it. This whole thing is so bizarre and convoluted. Of course my bedroom is the one with a secret passage. Why wouldn’t it be?

Kendall turns and feels along the top and bottom of the panel. He straightens and shows me a small brass piece on a pin that comes down to sit across the top of the panel seam. It’s a lock of sorts, like the kind you’d find on crude cabinetry. At the very least, it would rattle if someone tried to push it open. My shoulders relax.

He looks at me for a long moment and then nods and heads toward the door.

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