2. Maven

When I tryto move again, I manage to sit up before my strength gives out, leaving me slumped against the headboard. But as my senses return, I tense. Because even though the room is empty, I don't feel alone.

The Nightmare Prince is here, watching me from Limbo.

He witnessed me slip away and revive. Again.

I glare at the spot on the bed near me where I feel a slight, indescribable pull. Silas said he temporarily locked Crypt in Limbo, so I'm running on limited time before the psychopathic, dreamy stalker returns. I wonder if he'll tell the others what he saw in the headmaster's office and in here.

I also can't help wondering how much of his stalking was motivated by their little bet. The thought makes my chest ache, and I frown. This shouldn't be bothering me as much as it is. Sure, they fucked me over. It hurts, but I should be able to get over it quickly and move on with my mission. It's hardly the first time someone hurt me when I was stupid enough to let down my guard, so why do I feel it so much more this time?

At long last, I drag myself from the bed. Glancing down, I see I'm still in the ripped black clothing stained with mine and the changeling's blood. That's a relief. Once I get more magic into my system, I'll need this dried blood for a ritual to track it down.

Quietly, I move to the door and take a deep breath as I prepare to leave. But then someone shouts from the direction of the kitchen down the hall. Something shatters. Slipping out, I approach on high alert. I can sense Crypt following me closely in Limbo.

Glancing around the hallway's corner, I see Silas and Baelfire grappling with each other. Silas's bleeding crystal protrudes from Baelfire's bicep, which keeps trying to heal around it. Baelfire is gripping the blood fae's hands with a snarl to keep them from encircling his throat. Shards of a broken bowl speckled with bright blood are scattered across the tile nearby, right in front of a decorative table filled with thriving potted plants.

"Snap out of it, Si," Bael barks. "It's all in your fucking head!"

I catch a brief glimpse of Silas's face, and the mindless panic mixed with fury I see there makes my throat tighten. Because he doesn't seem like Silas. He looks entirely out of his mind.

From his curse, I realize.

I clench my hands, torn between the desire to sneak out of this apartment and the bizarre urge I have to intervene. But even if I tried, I'm too weak at the moment to stop them from spilling more blood.

Silas starts chanting in fae, but Baelfire snarls as he loses his temper. He shoves Silas"s hands aside, twists Silas's shoulder under his arm, and wrenches it violently in the wrong direction. The loud crack of a bone breaking makes me inhale sharply.

Silas hisses in pain, cradling his broken arm as he stumbles away, but Baelfire hears my gasp. His attention snaps up to me, and his eyes flare wide. In a blur of shifter speed, he's abruptly right in front of me, his hands coming up like he's about to try bracing my weak form against his muscular body.

"Don't."

I may be barely holding myself upright, but I can still use my don't fuck with me voice. The one I perfected in the hellscape I was raised in.

Baelfire pulls his hands away but doesn't move back, consuming me with his eyes like he's sure I'm about to vanish. He looks rougher than I've ever seen him—his T-shirt and jeans scorched and torn, his golden hair a mess, and dark circles under his eyes, which are a deeper shade of amber than usual. Blood is smeared on his hands and arms and continues to drip from Silas's forgotten crystal, still embedded in his arm.

"Maven," he pleads raggedly, scanning my face.

I forcefully keep it blank, even though my chest pangs. I have the most irksome urge to feel his warm arms wrapped tightly around me. My stupid, exhausted body can't seem to remember that I'd hate it if he actually did touch me.

His hands twitch toward me again, but he clenches them at his sides. "Fuck, baby, I know you must be pissed, but please just let me?—"

I step around him. I need to leave before I have to face my emotions, which are bubbling to the surface, but Silas steps in front of me. His ruby-red eyes are now focused, but the blood fae looks as exhausted as I feel and even paler than usual.

"I tried everything. How is your pain suddenly gone?"

"It's not."

I'm not lying. It's painful being around them like this.

Silas's face softens. His gaze drops to my chest, where a hole torn by my dagger remains, but the only scar to be seen is the one I've had for five years.

"You had no heartbeat. I thought I lost you."

You can't lose what you never wanted in the first place.

"Heartbeats are overrated," I mumble instead.

When I try to step around him, he only moves closer, determination and something unbearably tender bleeding into his expression. Seeing that bit of tenderness sparks my temper. From some angry, petty part of my mind, Sierra's sneering face comes back to me along with her words.

They might even fuck you once or twice out of pity. But make no mistake, they're not yours.

My anger deepens, overshadowing the lingering hurt until I decide I need to get out of this apartment really fucking soon before I do something stupid.

Silas's voice is soft. "We should talk?—"

"There is no we."

"Yes, there is," he says firmly. "I know you're upset?—"

"You four used me as a dick-measuring contest, and you think I'm upset? That's cute." I arch a brow. "You can't lie, so tell me yes or no. Was there a bet about who would fuck me first?"

His mouth opens and closes twice in a row before he swallows. "Yes, but?—"

"And prizes for whoever won?"

"Yes, but that was not?—"

"Congratulations," I make my voice sickly sweet. "You won. Now go find a new plaything to fuck. I'm sure Sierra would happily volunteer to entertain the two of you. Again."

Baelfire flinches and snarls, "You were not a fucking plaything, and we are not touching anyone else. Ever. As far as I'm concerned, from now on, anyone who touches me is touching what belongs to you. We did make that stupid bet, but it was just a competition between rivals. We didn't mean for you to?—"

"Find out?"

"Get hurt," he corrects vehemently, golden eyes pleading. He looks miserable. "I take it all back. Screw that fucking bet, okay? It was just a juvenile game. We're legacies, we're competitive, and we were being stupid. None of us gives a shit about those prizes now, anyway."

One glance at Silas tells me that's absolutely false. He looks away.

The hurt doubles in my chest, but I keep my face impassive as I turn to face the front door.

"You can't leave, sangfluir," Silas says quietly. "None of us can get out. The university is on lockdown."

I pause, irritation welling up in my throat. Or is that emotion? Oh gods, it is. I have to get away from them as soon as fucking possible because I can't seem to hide how I really feel around them anymore.

Steadying my voice, I ask, "Lockdown?"

"The headmaster was assassinated," Baelfire says carefully as if he's trying not to place meaning in the words, even though we all know they found me in the room with the dead mage. "We were barely able to get you out of there and wipe away all traces before the rest of the Immortal Quintet arrived. They've put all of Everbound University on a strict magical lockdown. No one can leave their dorms or apartments until further notice—except for the faculty, who are all being questioned as we speak. We've already been stuck in here for an entire fucking day and night. No one knows when they'll let up."

I process that without turning to face them. The Immortal Quintet is here?

How…convenient.

All my targets in one spot.

But it does complicate certain things. If we're on magical lockdown, they must know that someone here killed their quintet member. And I'm positive I heard Everett's voice in that office when they found me, which means he might tell them I was found in that room. I can't think of a single reason he wouldn't rat me out. After all, he heard my fake confession of being part of the anti-legacy movement.

I wonder how long I have until they realize the telum is here at Everbound. I need to come up with a new plan—one that will help me find Kenzie, kill the changeling, and pick off the rest of the Immortal Quintet one by one…

But my head is pounding, and my body feels sluggish from exhaustion. How aggravating. I've spent most of my life working my ass off to make my physical body into a honed weapon. I can't afford to be tired, not with so much danger on the horizon.

Baelfire must sense that I'm frozen in anxiety-ridden exhaustion because he murmurs, "There's no getting out right now, Boo. And I don't know what fancy caster shit happened to get rid of that fucking poison, but you need more time to recover. I'll make you food, and…we can talk about everything. All of us, all the cards on the table."

Hard pass. No way in hell am I about to talk with these assholes about anything, now or ever. So instead of acknowledging anything he said, I grumble, "I need a damn shower," and turn to leave the room.

But Silas's hand wraps gently around my shoulder to stop me.

"Agree to talk to us first," he demands.

Even though his touch is cautious, tension rackets up my spine. I'm too emotional right now, a dozen feelings warring inside me—especially hurt and anger.

I inhale slowly, trying to calm the angry hum in my veins. "No."

"Maven—"

My nerves jolt when his touch slips down to my bare hand in an attempt to turn me to face them. It sets off everything I'm feeling, demolishing my lockbox of emotions and my typical level of control.

So when I knock Silas's hand away, the sheer force that escapes my fingertips in a flare of dark tendrils takes all of us by surprise. He's sent airborne, smashing into the dining room wall hard enough that everything hanging on it falls to the floor with a crash. He groans, gripping his broken arm with clenched teeth.

When his blood-red gaze flicks back to me, it's filled with shock. His brow furrowed in both pain and confusion. My particular brand of magic hurts like hell, and he's obviously never felt something like that.

Briefly, I'm puzzled about how I even had magic to lose control of, since the ordeal with Headmaster Hearst and the changeling completely drained my power. But one glance at the nearby cluster of potted plants shows me they've withered to nothing, dead and gone.

Damn it.

I didn't mean to do that.

I deplore losing control.

It's dead quiet before Baelfire murmurs, "Maven?"

He steps toward me, but I stare him down, ignoring the tired throb in my head.

"Leave. Me. Alone."

But now that my emotions aren't under a tight hold, my voice wobbles. I internally curse the gods when I realize moisture is threatening to escape my eyes. Seeing that makes Baelfire go perfectly still with horror, and he swears softly.

"Boo…oh gods, please don't cry or I'll?—"

As if the gods have finally decided to sprinkle some mercy into my existence, there's a cheery knock on the front door. I glance down at my incriminatingly bloody ensemble, as do Silas and Baelfire. Without a word, I slip back behind the corner of the hallway. Finally giving in to the lingering weakness from reviving, I brace myself against the wall and listen as they open the now-unlocked door.

I recognize Mr. Gibbons' voice. "Ah! If it isn't my two favorites of your most promising quintet?—"

"Are we free to leave now?" Baelfire interrupts impatiently.

"Well, now, not exactly," the warlock hedges. "Until further notice, students will not be permitted outside the walls of Everbound Castle. There will be some rather heavy supervision and new rules, and some, ah…bold new changes to the school's schedule going forward…"

He trails off and then clears his throat. "But the wonderful news is that students may now leave their rooms. Classes are on hold for the rest of the day, but at eight o'clock this evening, we will be holding the mandatory Matched Ball—where the Immortal Quintet will honor us with their attendance!"

From his tone, he clearly expects them to squeal and clap at the news.

"Gee whiz, that's great," Baelfire drawls, his dry tone going right over Mr. Gibbon's head. "But what about us shifters? We don't like being cooped up. It's the animals inside us. Take it from me—this whole school will become a hunting ground if the House of Shifting gets cabin fever. Wouldn't want you to be dragon chow."

The underlying threat in his voice makes me tip my head. Usually, Baelfire is exceptionally charming, but he's on edge right now. Is he also struggling with his curse in some way I don't know?

"Well…you're right," Mr. Gibbons agrees after swallowing loudly. "I suppose that will only add further excitement into the mix, eh? I shouldn't be telling you this, gentlemen, but seeing how you're a Crane and a Decimus…I'll let you in on a little secret. As of tomorrow morning, the no-killing ban will be officially lifted, and quintet rankings will begin."

Quintet rankings mean all matched legacies will be at each other's throats, intent on proving they're the strongest. It will be an absolute bloodbath.

At least I have that to look forward to.

"Quintet rankings aren't supposed to start until next semester," Silas points out. "After the holiday break."

"By order of the Immortal Quintet, the holiday break has been indefinitely delayed…as has First Placement," Mr. Gibbons explains, sounding nervous when Baelfire scowls. "You see, we'll begin next semester effective tomorrow on an expedited timeline. Rather different, but then one is not to argue with the Immortal Quintet. Well then! I have other students to whom I must deliver this news. Here is your official invitation to the Matched Ball—I'm sure your quintet will be the envy of all. Oh, and all food in the dining hall is complimentary for the rest of the day as an apology from our most understanding leaders. Have a good day, gentlemen."

The door shuts, and Baelfire scowls savagely again. "We're not allowed to leave for the holidays? My family is going to be pissed when I don't show up. What the fuck is going on?"

I know what's going on. The Immortal Quintet is keeping everyone trapped here while they search for the one who killed their mage. They're going to tear this place apart until they find their culprit…and they might discover me in the process.

Everbound is officially a ticking time bomb.

Pushing myself off the wall, I retreat because I really do need a shower. Then I need to get away from these assholes and start searching.

Please be alive, Kenzie. I'm coming for you.