Page 110 of The Bleak Beginning

Goosebumps pepper the back of my neck. “What kind of situation?”

Aubrey shakes her head. “I don’t know. It could be anything. That’s the point—they want to see how we handle the unexpected.”

I process this information. A test within a test, hidden beneath the glittering facade of the masquerade. It’s clever, I have to admit. And terrifying.

“So we just have to be ready for anything,” I muse, more to myself than to Aubrey.

She nods, a wry smile playing at her lips. “Exactly. Which, let’s be honest, is pretty much business as usual around here.”

I can’t help but chuckle at that. Aubrey’s right—as unsettling as this whole situation is, it’s not really that different from my day-to-day life at Altair. I was always being watched, always being tested by the Legacies, so what was the difference now?

As I’m about to respond to her, a commotion erupts from the main ballroom. The music stops abruptly, replaced by a cacophony of gasps and startled exclamations. Aubrey and I exchanged a quick glance before hurrying over.

The scene that greets us is chaos. The elegant crowd has parted, forming a circle around something—someone—on the floor. As we push our way forward, I catch a glimpse of a prone figure in a shimmering dark gown.

“Is that…” Aubrey whispers, her voice tight with shock.

I nod, my throat suddenly dry. “Professor O’Donnelly.”

The formidable professor lies motionless on the marble floor, her ornate mask askew. Chancellor Maxwell kneels beside her, her face ashen as she checks for a pulse. O’Donnelly’s chest rises and falls in shallow breaths, but her eyes remain closed.

“Someone call for help!” a voice cries out.

But no one moves. The crowd stands frozen, a sea of masked faces staring down at the fallen woman. I feel Aubrey tense beside me, her fingers digging into my arm.

“This is it,” she snaps, hushed. “The test.”

“Everyone, remain calm,” Maxwell intones, her voice carrying across the ballroom. “Medical assistance is on its way.”

As if on cue, two white-coated figures emerge from a side door, rushing to Professor O’Donnelly’s side with a stretcher. The crowd parts to let them through.

Something falls from Professor O’Donnelly’s hand as the medics lift her onto the stretcher—a small, folded piece of paper. Without thinking, I snatch it up, quickly tucking it into my palm before anyone notices.

As the medics whisk the professor away, Chancellor Maxwell turns to address the stunned crowd. “Ladies and gentlemen, please remain calm. This unfortunate incident should not derail our evening. The masquerade will continue as planned.”

The music resumes, but there’s a nervous energy crackling through the air. Students huddle in small groups, whispering furiously behind their masks. I feel Aubrey’s hand on my arm, pulling me toward an alcove.

Before we reach it, an arm reaches for my wrist, gripping it tightly. I whirl around, heart thumping, to find myself face-to-face with a figure in a gold-and-black mask. Camden.

“You picked something up,” he says low, barely audible over the resumed music. “What was it?”

I keep my face neutral behind my mask, acutely aware of the paper burning in my hand. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I reply.

He leans in closer. “Don’t play games, mudslide. I know you grabbed something.”

Aubrey steps between us, her posture tense. “Back off, Camden.”

His lip curled as someone came up behind us. I spin around to see Sylvester, his silver mask glinting in the chandelier light.

“Problem here?” Sylvester asks, his tone deceptively casual.

“Hand it over,” Camden demands, his voice threatening. “What you picked up. Now.”

He violently yanks my hand toward him, prying apart my fingers and snatching up the paper with a sinister grin. The ticking of a clock echoes in the background, creating a deafening cacophony that matches the rapid beat of my heart.

“Fuck you,” Aubrey hisses at her cousin.

As we retreat from Camden and Sylvester, the paper now in Camden’s possession, I feel a mix of anger and disappointment. Whatever information was on that slip is now lost to us.

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