Page 93 of A Fate Everlasting

A second set of lighter footsteps sounded. Verrine’s voice slipped through the darkness on the other side of the door, clipped. “Dante. The guards are scrying with your father in the throne room. He’s requested you.”

The silence grew thick and suffocating, pressing into me like a second heartbeat. I didn’t move. I didn’t hear footsteps. For a moment, one fragile, teetering moment, I thought he might stay.

But then, slowly, the charged weight of his presence began to fade. The shadows beyond the door swallowed him whole, and just like that, he was gone.

Verrine hummed, satisfied. She rattled the doorknob, unbolting the locks, and stepped inside. “Come, Miss Davenant. Let’s take a walk.” Dante was regent, but until he wascrownedit was clear Verrine still held some power.

I rose, grateful to be anywhere but that room. We paced side by side through corridors carved from black stone, each one narrowing in around me. Verrine walked at an easy, unbothered pace, like we were two old friends out for a stroll rather than prisoner and captor. I could feel it beneath the surface. The calculation, the performance of it all. She was being too nice, which meant she wanted something.

“Have you noticed how quiet it is?” she finally said, her voice smooth. “Most students never see this part of the Sanctum. They don’t realize how much of Evermore is built on this, on silence.”

I didn’t respond. I didn’t trust myself to.

She glanced at me, lips twitching into a knowing smile. “You don’t like silence, do you, Miss Davenant?”

I swallowed. I wasn’t sure why that sentence hit the way it did; maybe because she knew the answer. I didn’t want to talk to her. Didn’t want to give her the satisfaction. The quiet turned my thoughts to static. Before I could stop myself, I muttered, “It’s suffocating.”

Verrine let out a disappointed sigh. “You’re afraid.”

I forced myself to scoff. “I’m not afraid to Fall.”

“Of the truth.” The walls of the corridor seemed to press inward. “You want to run away,” she said plainly. “Because it’s easier than accepting what you’ve always known deep down.” Her head tilted slightly, watching me the way a cat watches a wounded bird. “But Arabella you never had a choice between Ascending and Falling. Not really.”

My jaw locked. “And the others?

She smiled, slow and knowing. “You think this is a crime, that we are evil. We areallowingevery Upper Sixth in this graduating class to enter Elsewhere. Under the regulation of the Archangels, onlytwelveof the lowest scoring students would be permitted entry. Now, the doors to Elsewhere are open wide. Everyone who graduates all goes through. We are saving souls.”

Ice slid through my veins.She daredpretend this was charity? “They will all rank then,” I pressed. I couldn’t see how that was possible. “They’ll all become High Daemons? Not wraiths, not lesser beings?”

“We can’t work miracles.” Verrine let out a breathy laugh. “Not everyone here is exceptional enough for that. But at leasttheir souls will survive in some form or another.” Verrine faced me, her narrowed gaze softening. There was no mockery in her expression, just something like tenderness. “You on the other hand,are.”

“I promise that’s not true.” My throat burned. “And the Lower Sixth? Ruby?” I asked, the words strained.

Verrine stepped closer. “She’s been out of rank for the last week, Arabella. Her score is one of our weakest. It’s unlikely she will survive being marked. There is nothing we can do about that.”

My knees wobbled beneath me, the room spinning.

“Don’t worry. You’re different. Wrong in all therightways. Just like Dante,” Verrine was saying, her cold hands gripping my shoulders to steady me. “If you fall this Rift and join the High King’s court after graduation, you will find a home there. People just like you.Exceptionalpeople.”

There it was again, that word she loved so much.Exceptional.Bile rose in my throat at the thought.

“Just think about it,” Verrine purred, stepping back.

I was about to respond when a set of guards rushed toward us, their faces contorted with panic.

“Gentlemen,” Verrine smiled. “What can I do for you?”

The guard gulped. His voice was steady, but I saw the hesitation in his stance, the way his fingers twitched against the hilt of his blade. “The High King—” He faltered. “He's here.Early.”

A slow ripple of silence passed through the room. Even the candlelight flickered like the chamber itself had felt the weight of those words. Verrine did not flinch, she did not frown. Her fingers twitched. Just once.

“So soon?” she pressed. “He wasn’t due until tomorrow morning. Is that all?”

“No.” The guard hesitated. Just for a moment. Then, quickly, like the words burned the tongue, “Aranyas called him.Godwin Cavendish is dead. The cards were found beside him. Blood-soaked.”

The gasp was trapped in my throat, every muscle rigid. Verrine didn't move, but something terrifying passed across her face. It didn’t look angry or upset, but it also didn’t look like relief. She inhaled once slowly, steadying herself sealing away any trace of whatever emotion had just slipped through the cracks.

“And where are the cards now?” Her voice was neutral again. Careful.

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