Page 43 of Hush, Hush

Just to my right, the bookcase swings open on a hinge. Another Knight steps out, and my heart starts to race when I recognize him too. I guess this party brings out the most elite members.

“We’re ready for her,” his even, solemn voice states.

We? Who’s we?

The other man strides over, placing his arm carefully around my shoulder. “Just this way, Miss Astor.”

“What’s this about?” I ask. It’s not as if I can refuse to accompany someone as high up as these Knights, but I am sort of busy. “I have a lot of party duties to attend to.”

“Don’t worry about that,” he says, his fingers slipping down my bare shoulder. My head starts to pound, but he maneuvers behind me, his front against my back and leaves me no other choice but to head toward the secret door. I step in front of it and find a short set of winding footsteps.

Flickering lights cast part of the stone stairwell in shadow.

“Don’t delay, Miss Astor. We’re all busy here, and we’re looking forward to celebrating Devil’s Night with you.”

I step onto the first stone stair. A burst of cold air cascades over my skin. I can feel the body behind me so I continue my descent, my footsteps echoing around the narrow walkway.

“Where are we going?”

He makes a sound of amusement in the back of his throat. “Into the dungeon.”

Chapter Twenty

I descend the curving staircase, sandwiched between the two elders. My pulse pounds in my ears. Before me, an archway opens up at the bottom. Little by little, the scene in the dungeon comes into view, making me stop on the very last stair.

Figures in hooded robes stand in a circle. Shadows flicker across the low ceiling from the burning torches slid into metal brackets around the room.

“Just a little further,” the prominent elder at my back prompts.

I turn to face him. His eyes aren’t nearly as friendly anymore. “I have things to do,” I say confidently. Everything in me is telling me I should escape. I wished I’d gotten ahold of Keegan to ask him if he also had to attend a meeting. It would certainly calm my nerves to know all of the other Knights are going through the same thing. Maybe that’s why I couldn’t get ahold of Keegan? “Surely whatever this is can wait.”

He lifts his chin. “Are you disobeying a direct order from an elder?”

I swallow, panic still rising even with my attempt to quell it. Maybe this is all part of the Devil’s Night shenanigans? Maybe they’re trying to play a joke on me? Night of mischief, right? “No, Sir.”

Turning back, I step onto the rock floor. The room looks every bit the quintessential dungeon, something my mind would conjure up if I were reading about castles and places where powerful people keep prisoners.

I lift my chin high, trying not to betray the fear coursing through me. If this is a rite of passage to become a full-fledged Knight, I have to pass.

Taking a deep breath, the circle closes in around me. They’re all wearing matching black masks, the prop we picked out for our Devil’s Night theme. It’s like being surrounded by a number of princes from hell. The hoods, the robes, they’re all indistinguishable from another. I turn in a circle and find that even the two who escorted me down here are now dressed the same. I can’t tell who anyone is now.

I wait until I’m spoken to. They’re in the driver’s seat, and it won’t do any good for me to try to guess whatever situation they’re putting me in. Is this another trial, perhaps? Something to prove my worth. Or worse? Maybe this is how I get kicked out, the culmination of Keegan’s complaint coming to a head. They don’t suffer outsiders or people who won’t work with them. I could be on a boat within ten minutes, being shipped away from the Knights forever.

Or maybe, they’ve finally decided to pull the plug on the idea of the first woman Knight. No reason needed.

I peer around, searching for my father. If that’s what’s happening here, I would hope he’d have given me a heads up. I find nothing distinguishable about them though. Their eyes scour me from head-to-toe, all varying in shades of darkness due to the low light.

I’m about to break first when a voice pours out into the small room, an air of authority dripping from every syllable. “Clearly,” it rings. “The honor should be mine.”

A bunch of disgusted dissents rise up, making the hair on the back of my neck stand. “You would think that.”

I turn, trying to search out the owner of the second voice, only to find that the circle has tightened in around me. If this is a prank, they’re doing a hell of a job. I feel like a kitten in the midst of a pack of tigers. Every instinct in my body tells me to claw my way out.

“The prize will be dealt out as the others. Vivere triumpho.”

“Vivere triumpho,” they all repeat. The Knights motto rings through my ears as I try to guess its meaning as it pertains to me.To live in triumph.

“Begin,” the same voice dictates.

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