Would it have been the same for Darius? If he’d still been here, if we’d gone into that First Trial together, would we have even been partnered? Or would I still be with Dante, and Darius would be looking at me the same way Olympia was looking at him?
Well, perhaps not thesameway.
“Dante…” His name was a plea on her lips, but he only glared at her, his jaw clenched.
Dante,I reached out to him before I realized what I was doing, my heart breaking with guilt and pity.
He flinched against our link. I could feel it, even though nothing about his posture or expression changed.
Once it became clear he wasn’t going to say another word, Olympia shook her head and turned away. She stormed back down the path from which they’d come. I watched her go, but when I looked at Dante again once she’d disappeared from sight, his harsh glare was refocused on me.
Dante—
A cold sensation slammed against our bond, and I gasped. It was the same feeling as being splashed from head to toe with ice cold water. I couldn’t feel him anymore. Not his anger or sorrow or even curiosity. Just cold, cruel indifference.
Then he simply walked away.
Chapter Eight
“Leave your worldly belongings behind and join, mind, body, and soul, with the Geist. All, from the very tip of the First Ring to the Deck far below, are worthy to serve our gods.”
—Spoken in Sermon by High Priest Naser of House Avus, 1,531 Age of Sanctum
Iwasn’t a prisoner. At least, as far as I knew. So I didn’t tell anyone when I simply walked through the gates the next morning and stepped out onto the utterly empty streets of the First Ring.
I passed the sprawling red brick manor of House Lynx on my right and the glass-domed, sparkling behemoth of House Avus on my left, and kept walking, leaving the dark obsidian estate of House Viper behind. I made my way toward the east gate and descended to the Second Ring.
Quite a few people gawked at me as I made my descent. It wasn’t often anyone from the First Ring stooped to the other levels. But when I drew closer and they recognized me as the imposter I was, they mostly glanced away, disinterested. Thougha few fellow Third Ringers and some Deckers serving the Second Ring grinned as I passed.
I strode straight ahead, right down the next set of stairs as well. None of the guards glanced my way. They weren’t paid to mark who was descending, only who tried to ascend. I nodded to a few familiar faces as I made my way through the bustling Third Ring streets.
The dingy gray apartment building halfway between the eastern and southern gates looked like it should be condemned from the outside. It didn’t look much better from the inside, either. I took a deep breath and headed for the wooden door at the bottom, cracked open due to someone having come and gone without the knowledge or the energy to slam it closed properly.
I waved politely to Rosemary Marin, who was trying to herd her stubborn orange tabby back inside her tiny apartment, on my way up to the fourth floor. She gave me a grim nod before closing her door behind her.
Something was amiss at the top of the fourth floor landing. Light spilled out into the usually dark hallway—and it was coming from the open door of my apartment. I hurried forward and barreled into my apartment just as the landlord dumped a box of Darius’s personal effects I’d packed to give his parents onto the floor.
“What the hell are you doing?” I ripped the box out of his hands and started gathering everything again.
“Ah, there you are, Miss Bexley,” he grunted. “You know, candidate or not, you still have to pay your rent.”
I shot him a withering glare that had absolutely no effect on the greedy rat.
“And I intend to,” I spat. “Soon.”
“You’re over a week past due.”
“I’ve had a hell of a week.”
“Miss Bexley.”
I looked up at him and sighed.
“Mr. Seaton, please.” I tried not to sound as desperate as we both knew I was. “I just need a few more days. I’m going to pick up some jobs and look for a roommate, I swear. I just need—”
“How much does she owe?”
I froze at the low, deep voice that emanated from the threshold of my apartment. Gripping the watch that used to belong to Darius’s father before Orson gave it to him so tight, my knuckles turned white, I turned. Dante stood in the doorway to my pitiful apartment, green eyes flashing and jaw tensed.
