Page 55 of A Fate Everlasting

This wasn’t a conditioning, this was a punishment, and the professor wasinon it. Fine. Let them come. I gritted my teeth, forcing myself up, refusing to give them the pleasure of breaking me. I had made a mistake. If stealing the cards had done this, I hadn’t meant for it to happen.

I climbed the steps up the platform, my muscles screaming. Someone was waiting for me at the top, my next sparring partner. Hugo twirled his practice spear, expression blank, no recognition at all.

He was alive. He was well. A smile stretched across my face despite myself. The expression written across his face said that he hungered for me in all the wrong ways. There was no recognition in his face, like he hadn’t died beside me in Elsewhere, like we hadn’t clawed our way out together.

But the bond was fake, so maybe this was the reality. Heflipped the javelin in his grip, considering it. Then, without hesitation, he hurled it straight at me.

I didn’t move fast enough this time, my muscles weren’t responding. The dull side slammed into my stomach, the force of it tore through me. I stumbled, knees crashing against the wooden planks, the air knocked from my lungs.

A cheer erupted from the crowd. I choked on my own air. Every inhale burned, ragged, but I refused to let them see. I lifted my head, meeting Hugo’s eyes. There was nothing there. Not anger, not regret, not recognition. A slow smile curved his lips.

He leaned down, his words a fresh blade pressed against my throat. I didn’t recognize this boy. But worse he recognized me, and hated everything I was.

“Dorian told me about your mother,” he murmured, the smell of the musky cologne he’d worn the night at the pub enveloping me. Something in my chest fractured as he dropped to a whisper meant only for me. “She never should have walked free.”

“Hugo,” my voice broke.

He pressed the spearpoint to my collarbone. “You shouldn’t exist. This is all your fault. And now we might all lose the After because of you.” There was no trace of the boy I knew as he said, “I'm going to make sure you don’t.”

I tried to rip away, but he only held tighter. My voice was embarrassingly pleading as the tip of the javelin crept closer to my throat. “Letgo. Hugo. Look at me, you know me.” I held his gaze, still searching for the false promise of us.

Hugo tilted his head. “No.” His voice was smooth, empty. “I don’t know you at all. No one here does.” I flinched. “You are a liar and a damn good actress, Arabella Davenant. You could have been a star, but that doesn’t matter now. We know who you are and what you’ve done, and we want you dead.All of us do.”

My ears were ringing. Somewhere, I thought I heard the echo of his laugh. Or maybe it was mine, splintering apart inside my head. My life would end here, fading into searing pain and darkness, unless Verrine cruelly resurrected me and forced me to take the Rift.

Hugo turned as the hall filled with the sound of hundreds of slates chirping in unison. A single message flashed across the screens:

ASSEMBLY IN ARIEL HALL. IMMEDIATE ATTENDANCE REQUIRED.

A murmur spread through the crowd. Hugo released his grip on me like I had burned him. He stepped back, shaking out his fingers, eyes narrowing before turning away. “This isn’t over.”

I pressed a trembling hand to my ribs, pain pulsing through every inch of me. What did he mean? What had my mother done? And why was everyone so sure this was my fault?

I brushed away tears, pushing myself to my feet, and made my way toward Ariel Hall. What had Dorian told him? What truth about my mother had made Hugo hate me enough to kill? I didn’t know. I only knew that everyone here had made up their minds. There was only one person to blame for all of this.Me.

25

“Silence. Silence!” Verrine’s voice struck through the murmurs in Ariel Hall viper-quick. Wooden benches creaked as students jolted upright, knuckles whitening on the rails.

I scanned the assembly, my heartbeat skittering. The flickering candlelight stretched long, eerie shadows over the pale, exhausted faces around me. Most of the students looked like they hadn’t slept.

I didn’t blame them. A muffled sob floated from the Ophanim House pews and someone hissed for silence. Above me and to my right a few Upper Sixth Seraphim’s were glaring. “Word is Cavendish caught her red-handed,” one whispered. I faced forward and pretended not to hear. “This is all her fault.”

I tasted cotton. I wasn’t sure which “her” they meant anymore, me or my mother. Either way, the guilt and shame were mine.

I fought the urge to reach for my slate, but it was pointless. They’d been confiscated before the assembly. They didn’t want us tracking the damage. We had been informed as we arrived that lessons were cancelled for the rest of the day, and cold reliefwashed over me at the thought that I wouldn’t have to return to the sparring ring again. There was just this, this gathering of the damned.

A cold weight settled against my collarbone. My fingers twitched, aching to reach for the pendant hidden beneath my uniform, but I resisted. Had it always felt this heavy? I had never questioned it before, never thought twice about how it fit.

My mother had fled Evermore before she could take the Rift. Hugo seemed to think there was something off about me because of her. I still hadn’t figured outwhatshe was running from.

I shifted uneasily, my gaze darting toward the stage where the professors stood. Godwin looked unnervingly pale, his usually pristine handlebar mustache unkempt, his collar slightly askew. Next to him, Verrine stood tall, composed, smiling. Dorian stood beside her, arms crossed, his face stark. Our eyes met for a split second. He looked away first.

Professor Esmerelda glided forward, lavender robes wilting at the hem. “You are not in danger,” she said, though her voice quavered. “None of you will be forced to meet the Rift while your scores are unfairly represented, whether you were to be marked or to graduate.”

A ripple of relief swept through the hall from both the Lower and Upper Sixth. I knew it was too fragile, too convenient. It shattered in a heartbeat.

“No.” Verrine stepped forward, shoving past Esmerelda. “We cannot promise that.”

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