Page 79 of The Ordeals
And there’s something Tessa said, something needling me. Something I can no longer ignore or brush aside. ‘You go back to Hope. I need … I just …’
His fingers tip up my chin and I look up at him. My heart leaps as I find his eyes, calm and steady, and full of trust. ‘Are you all right?’
I clear my frown and nod. ‘Just something I need to do.’
His eyes bore into my own and I reach up, running my fingers over his cheekbone, down to his jaw. He dips his head to mine and kisses me, soft and lingering, the kind of kiss I can sink into for eternity. I reach my fingers up to his hair, feel his arms come around me, the contrast of his warmth and the bite of night-time chill weavingpatterns of flame and ice over my skin. I sigh, melting into him, wanting to return with him to Hope, wanting to spend the night tangled up with him.
But I pull away, knowing it’ll have to wait. He searches my face, eyes molten tonight, twin pools of fire to ward off the cold and the dark. He brings my right hand up to his lips and kisses my fingertips before releasing me. ‘See you in a bit.’
I watch him go then walk to the edge of the island. Standing on the clifftop, where the sea rushes over the rocks, seeking fingers clawing at the cliffs, I ask myself the question I’ve been avoiding. The one I can no longer ignore. Will I survive the final Ordeal?
Chapter 26
Hester Lewellyn
She opens the door before I lift my hand to knock. Hester Lewellyn, professor, illusionist, and not so long ago, a hopeful scholar. She steps back with a small, knowing smile and I walk into an office bathed in candlelight.
‘I wondered if I’d see you. The final hour has a way of flushing out hopefuls.’
‘And questions.’
She bows her head. ‘I’ll answer what I can. What is within my gift to offer you.’
‘Your strength, the reason why you were chosen for the faculty of Killmarth isn’t just because you’re an illusionist,’ I say, turning to watch her as I stand in the middle of her office. I point at the great mass of books, all the volumes in her collection. ‘It’s because of your knowledge as a historian.’
She carefully closes the door with a click and slowly turns to face me. ‘Go on.’
‘Caroline Ivey recruited you. The Crown placed you here. Your study is crammed with history books,’ I say swallowing, picturing her face when she saw me at the masquier ball, bitten and bloodied. When she realised what had happened, what it meant. ‘Your expertise is on the cold ones.’
She sighs through her nose and moves to her desk. Taking a seat,she indicates that I should take the one opposite and I pull it out, never taking my eyes off her. ‘That’s an interesting theory.’
‘One you haven’t denied,’ I say. ‘You had a meeting in Darley Hall. In fact, I’d wager you’ve had plenty. You, Caroline Ivey, Edmund Locke, Professor Hess and Dorothea Parnell.’
She stares at me for a beat, unblinking before opening a drawer in her desk, and drawing out a stack of papers. She pushes them towards me with her index finger, watching dispassionately as I reach for them. I pull them towards myself, leafing through slowly, finding pages of reports and notes in her handwriting. Research. This is research, information she’s drawn together, dating back thirty years …
‘I’m trying to establish a pattern. A kind of playbook that the Crown and Killmarth can utilise to develop their defence strategies for the next Great Hunt.’
I look up, searching her face, and find her poised, watching for my reaction. ‘You’re assembling teams. Each year group is a team for when—’ I swallow, feeling the phantom grip of the vampire’s teeth on my throat and suppress a shudder. ‘For when they’re all here to feed. The next Great Hunt of wielders.’
‘It’s something we hoped would never happen again … but all the warning signs are there. The early indicators, the same pattern playing out as eight years ago, and previously, just under sixteen years ago,’ she says. ‘Wars are not unique events. Each one has key markers, and we’ve developed a timeline. But I’m determined that this time, we will prevail.’
That word again,prevail. The word Grant used to hush us up after the Ordeal. I continue thumbing through the pile, finding typed-out reports with some redacted names and lines, newspaper obituaries, letters, diary entries that have clearly been carefully removed from the owners’ effects. With each page, my heartbeatquickens. ‘You’ve been building a picture of the enemy, to train us in what we’ll face.’
‘Exactly. The Crown need to be able to mobilise a group of wielders with a certain skill set, and you are one group of several they can draw on—’
‘The Ordeals, Hess … that’s why he’s been brought in, isn’t it? He worked with the Crown in the last attack. He’s one of their own. The Crown know what’s coming, because of your research, your predictions. They’ve ramped them up, introduced werewolves to simulate a monster attack … You’re testing for strength of character, resilience, the ability to still keep going after witnessing horrors.’
‘Correct. It goes beyond wielding. Killmarth is not just a place of academia, the Crown funds it to forge wielders with backbone. Too many died in the last two Great Hunts and aside from being an alchemist, Hess is a strategist. He’s highly trained. The Crown want more of their own on the faculty. It’s how … it’s how we met each other. Began working together, before coming here. They want more control. It’s not just about funding this place anymore because, as a territory, we are weakening.’ She blinks. ‘Although the final Ordeal remains as it ever was, the true test of magic.’
I pause in my scanning of a report on an occurrence eight years ago on the bank of the Serpentine, where three wielders were brutally attacked and drained, bodies left for the rats before discovery by the Crown’s guard. ‘I need to discuss that with you.’
She inclines her head. ‘Your ability to see all types of magic is incredibly useful. You’ll be reliant on that in the final Ordeal. That and the consistent stamina you’ve built up to wield illusion. It should get you through.’
‘Should?’ I ask, drawing my hands back to my lap.
‘We cannot be sure of the outcome, can we? You’ve trained, you’ve honed that ability, you’ve worked on sustaining a realistic illusion for as long as you can.’
‘Surely there’s more? Surely there’s more I could have done, other training …’
