Page 64 of The Ordeals
Chapter 21
Knowledge
I catch myself obsessing over Alden’s words until the following evening, replaying over and over again how he pinned me against that sofa, how he felt pressed against me, hisscent. And what he said, how he seems to be holding back, wanting to trust me. Wanting to know my secrets. But the thought of telling him about my past, of that respect, that desire glazing his eyes disintegrating … I can’t do it.
And now I burn for him, even more than before. It takes every ounce of self-control not to seek him out before the Ordeal and finish what he started between us. ‘Damn you, Alden Locke,’ I mutter crossly, yanking at the thin straps of the dress. They fall into place, the cross like an arrow’s mark on my back as I turn this way and that, regarding myself in the mirror in my bedroom.
Scarlet silk. Matte red lipstick. A soft wave in my hair. I raise my chin, stepping into a pair of nude heels, the only pair in the trunk sent down by the Collector. They’ll be hidden mostly, and they’ll have to do. I twirl this way and that, shivering a little in the cold dampness of my room. Then I strap my weapons to my thighs, as close to my skin as I can. There’s barely an outline, and with the slit cut up one side, I can get to them easily. At least it’s stormy today. I can sling a coat and headscarf over my ensemble and make it up to Keeper’s Hall without sporting the drowned-rat look.
I repeat the words in my head, the clue I will need to find the code word and complete this Ordeal.
Lies are cobwebs hung around the truth.
Then I lock it away, ready for the right moment.
Knox’s warning about the cold ones rings in my mind, a discordant bell that will never stop chiming. But behind the wards around Killmarth, I’m safe from the cold ones. And if this unknown murderer comes for me, I will be ready.
I draw in a breath, lifting myself to my full height, and slip into my coat. I tie the mask around my head, all the while counting the steps in my head. The walk to the courtyard. The hall itself. The way I will shuffle, seemingly uncertainly through the room, keeping my back to the wall. Keeping myself alive above all else. It’s the way I’ve learned to manage a gathering such as this, the way Dolly taught me.
I close my eyes briefly, seeing her face, her certain smile, smelling the cherry cigarettes and hearing that growl of a laugh on her tongue. My heart aches suddenly and I push my right palm into my chest. I know what she would have told me in this moment. What she said before every assignment.
Nothing is given unless you take it, my girl.
I press those words into my mind and remind myself that this is just like any other assignment. Except I won’t be taking blood from my mark tonight, I’ll be following a clue and seeking a code word. But whoever has that code word is a mark, nonetheless. Only this time, I have a partner to watch out for. I’m not operating solo.
‘I will if you will,’ I whisper across the room. And somehow, I know Dolly hears it.
Tessa and Greg are waiting for me in the entrance hall of Hope Hall when I descend. Tessa is wearing a navy silk dress under a woolcoat similar to mine, her hair is coiled in an up do, a few strands snaking artfully down her neck. Her eyes are outlined in gold, lending her a startled, beguiling quality beneath her eye mask.
‘You look divine,’ I tell her, gripping her hand in mine and squeezing. Greg is in black tie: a black suit jacket with satin lapels, a dickie bow and a starched white shirt. He smiles lopsidedly, bowing theatrically. His hair is a mop, falling into his eyes, and I chuckle, leaning over to straighten the dickie bow. ‘Don’t wander off tonight, yes? There’ve been too many murders.’
‘I’m a literalwerewolf.’
‘More like a were-puppy,’ I say, scrunching my nose. I can’t help but feel affection for Greg; he’s like a gangly tall clown.
Tessa nods, grinning. ‘A were-dog, one of those dopey, friendly ones.’
‘All right, all right, I get it …’ he says. ‘Stay cute, don’t get murdered.’
‘Right,’ I say, blowing out a breath. My gaze strays to the staircase, wondering if Alden has already left, or if he’s still preparing … no. I don’t need that distraction right now. I’m sure he can reach the hall without me at his side; I’ll find him there. I turn to Tessa and Greg. ‘Let’s do this.’
We walk up to the college proper, crossing the courtyard to Keeper’s Hall. There are a couple of hopefuls hovering around the entrance, either too nervous to enter, or eyeing up their rivals. I paste on a dazzling smile, tap past them in my heels as I untie my headscarf and hand my coat to the door check, a bored-looking scholar who complains loudly to anyone who’ll listen that he’s only doing this because he drew the short straw.
‘If I get through this, and I ever sound like that, have a word,’ Tessa says grimly. We’ve discussed scholar privilege before. It’s like the scholars got through the Ordeals then blanked them out completely, and now they have no intention of holding a hand down to help the hopefuls coming up behind them.
‘That goes for me too,’ I say. I glance down at her and nod. ‘Good luck. See you in a couple of hours. Remember, if you see another hopeful-looking, murderous …’
‘Jab them in the ribs and leg it. No trying to take down a skilled serial killer.’ She winks. ‘Got it, haven’t we, Greg?’
‘I’m more than just a cute face and a set of fangs, Sophia,’ he says solemnly before striding ahead of us to throw open the door to Keeper’s Hall. I feel a touch of guilt as I watch him walk away, for underestimating him, just as I have been underestimated. He’s survived this far, after all. He’s not entirely hopeless.
The music and light spill out with a wash of warmth and I shake off the last of the cold air from outside. Making my way in, I split off and begin moving left, deciding to travel counter clockwise around the walls of the hall. It’s mesmerising. The tables have been removed completely, creating a large, open space. The chandelier winks and glistens overhead, throwing ribbons of rainbow light over the packed hall. Everyone is dressed up to the nines, wearing silk or velvet and black tie. I almost rustle through my pockets to find a vial, this is so familiar. Every high society ball in the city looks like this, even smells like this – all peonies and amber with an undercurrent of cigar smoke – and almost every person in here looks at home. Like they were bred to sip the finest toquay and charm their way to the top. I curl my lip then remember to look slightly anxious, slightly vacant beneath my eye mask as I tiptoe around the edges.
A string quartet has set up on the raised platform where the professors were sitting for the welcome dinner, also dressed in black tie as they dutifully pluck the strings on their instruments, melodies cascading through the crowd. I watch them play for a moment, recalling the wording on the invitation.
You must discern the truth from the lies and find your code word, then find the correct person to whisper your code word to.
‘You know the correct person is always who you least suspect …’ Alden murmurs in my ear out of nowhere. ‘Or so I’ve been told.’
