Page 71 of Love to Defy You
Your presence is requested at the Trial of Lust. Please arrive in the courtyard with your pythia at ten o’clock in the evening on the fourteenth of February. If you do not bring your pythia, a substitute will be provided for you.
Failure to appear will result in the ultimate consequence.
Congratulations on your engagement.
Willow reads the invitation over my shoulder. “So, basically, they’re saying, ‘Do what we say or we’ll kill you. Oh, and by the way, congrats.’” She throws her hands in the air. “What the actual fuck?”
The invitation bends as I squeeze my hand into a fist. “My presence is mandatory, but yours is not. I don’t want you anywhere near this.”
Her expression twists with hurt. “No fucking way. I’m going with you.” She jabs her finger at the invitation. “A substitute pythia? Absolutely not. Over my dead body am I letting you fuck around with another girl.”
“What makes you so sure that’s the task?”
She gives me an exasperated look. “The Trial of Lust? Come on, Alek.” Leaning against the wall, she folds her arms and sighs. “Josie said something about making sure you’re fully committed to me before the next ritual, so I think sex is involved somehow.”
I slam the invitation facedown on the table in the foyer, making the decorative vase rattle against the wood. “Goddamn bastards!” Running my fingers through my hair, I pace the length of the foyer back and forth. The walls start closing in around me. Caging me in. Stifling me.
Willow grabs my arm and spins me to face her, and her familiar touch brings me back. “We’re going to get through this ritual, whatever it is. I’m not leaving you to fight this alone. We’re in it together, you and me.”
I melt into her. Burrowing my face in her neck, I take a deep breath and inhale her scent to calm me, and I rest my hands on her hips to pull her closer. “Just in case, we’re going to go buy you a lingerie set that covers everything.”
She wraps her arms around me. “You’ll let me wear panties?”
“Just this once.” I press my lips against her neck. “Although, I’d rather you wear a chastity belt to this particular event.”
A low fog casts an ominous haze over the lampposts of Weltner College. Our footsteps are the only sound in the emptycourtyard, and even they are muffled by the thick air. Willow’s breath forms puffy clouds as she tightens her coat around her body.
“You know, this isn’t how I expected to spend our first Valentine’s Day as an engaged couple,” Willow says. “Especially after a long day of classes. I was hoping to have you to myself tonight.” She squeezes my hand.
We are the first to arrive at the secret entrance, but we are fifteen minutes early, so we take a seat on a nearby bench.
“Alek?” she whispers.
“Yes,malishka?”
“Can you ease up on my hand? You’re crushing my bones.”
I glance down where our hands are joined, and indeed, her knuckles are turning white. I loosen my grip.
Neither of us speak as the clock tower counts down the minutes, and as we draw closer to ten o’clock, none of the other candidates show up.
“Did we get the time right?” Willow keeps her voice low.
I’ve checked the invitation every day since we returned from St. Moritz. We’re in the right place at the right time, but still, fear seizes my chest and squeezes so tightly I can hardly breathe. If I’m sentenced to die because I can’t read a calendar properly…
With two minutes remaining, the cellar door creaks open. For the first time, relief washes over me instead of terror at the sound. I won’t be dying today because of a scheduling mix-up.
But this is Willow’s first underground ritual, and she startles. She grips my arm as a pair of figures emerge, one of whom I recognize as a candidate. I believe his family name is Weitzmann, but I don’t know his first name. Both Weitzmann and his female companion are wearing white togas draped around their frame with laurel crowns askew on their dark, mussed hair.
“I know her,” Willow murmurs, nodding at the female beside him. “She’s in one of my classes. I think she was at the Feast of Apollo.”
The girl’s face is the same shade as her white garment, although hers is more sheer than her partner’s and clings to her body. Mascara and lipstick are smudged on her face, and the haunted look in her eyes makes me pull Willow tighter against me.
They gingerly make their way across the landscaping, and when they emerge from the bushes, I understand why. Their feet are bare and caked with dirt, just like mine were after the first trial.
“What happened in there?” Willow asks, a hint of desperation in her voice.
The female’s lower lip quivers as tears well in her eyes, and she shakes her head before hurrying off down the sidewalk.
