I paste a bland smile on my face. “Was my casting in today’s class lacking, Professor?”
Damnable girl, she knows she’s ahead of her classmates.
“It was not,” he admits.
There’s a grudging respect in his words and in the tenor of his thoughts, and I have to hide my proud smirk.
It isn’t hard at all.
Not when his very next thought is of a facility, hidden in the heart of a pine forest.
Not when he thinks of collars, shimmering with sigils, and how he’d like to see one around my neck.
Not when the spell he’s crafting for Radcliffe Industries is so, so very close to being complete.
CHAPTER13
Autumn sweeps across Deer Island, dressing the old oak trees on campus in fiery reds, oranges and golds. A crisp chill rides the winds that whistle high in the pine forests that surround Fairhaven Academy, hemming in our little enclave.
Just beyond the northernmost border of the academy, deep within the woods, there’s an old, abandoned church. It’s in this crumbling stone building that the resistance meets. Magic clings to every stone, wards protecting those inside from prying eyes.
Royal Detective Inspector Miller paces under the dark stained-glass windows, tapping at the screen of his phone.
Sienna gives me a little wave as I take my seat in one of the old pews, and Dr. Huong drops by with her two alphas, giving my shoulder an affectionate squeeze before sitting down in the row behind me.
I’m surrounded by my men, though Ian sits a few rows ahead of us, and though this is my first meeting, it isn’t theirs. Simon and Luca have been passing along information for months: Simon from what he surfaces through his hacking, Luca from what he finds out when he dons the gruesome black Baphomet mask and walks amidst the Soldiers. Ian and Cassian have been involved with the resistance for even longer.
I scan the room and my blood ices in my veins when I see Professor Cadigan talking to another older alpha near the old stone pulpit. I knew he was a member of the resistance but seeing him here still unnerves me.
Marcus follows my line of sight and arches an eyebrow, but I shake my head. If Cadigan is here, it isn’t safe to speak freely. Saints above, I wish I’d told Ian about all the things I’ve caught from Cadigan with my affinity. I slouch in my seat, making myself small. If only I could be absolutely certain he’d believe my word over that of his mentor.
My Intermediate Casting professor catches my eye from across the room, and I quickly duck my head, showing him my neck like a demure omega should. I try to catch his thoughts, but I’m too preoccupied by what I heard from him yesterday.
How he’s involved in making the collars.
Amongst his fellow resistance members, he’s a different alpha entirely. Avuncular and kind, a beaming smile on his face as an omega I don’t recognize approaches him, he’s nothing like the stern, condescending professor whose class I endure twice a week. Nor is he the disappointed mentor, counseling Ian to stay away from me. Here, he’s friendly—and clearly well liked.
I sink lower in the old pew. He’s convinced everyone here that he’s someone else entirely. Not the traitor I’m certain he is.
And Iamcertain, aren’t I?
Icanbelieve what my affinity shows me, can’t I?
Saints, what if Cadigan isn’t who I think he is? What if he’s a plant in the Soldiers of Saint Aldous, just as Jaime Brentwood was? He’s duplicitous, a traitor, but just who is he deceiving? Who is he betraying, the resistance or the Soldiers?
A tall, middle-aged alpha calls the meeting to order. “We have a new member among us tonight. I’d like you all to welcome her warmly.” He nods to me, and a low rumble goes through the other members.
An alpha woman points a finger at me. “Her? Do you know who she is? She’s the Rose omega. She’s courting a known member of the Soldiers of Saint Aldous!”
A murmur goes up through the stone room, growing steadily louder, as, one by one, every mage in the room turns to look at me.
I don’t balk or shrivel under the weight of their scrutiny, but it takes every ounce of my mettle not to shrink before them, to not duck my head and give them my neck.
Sienna clears her throat softly. It’s a quiet sound, but it still manages to render the room utterly silent. “‘The Rose omega’ has more to lose than anyone else in this room. Do you imagine shewantsto court Andrew Radcliffe? Saints, do you imagine anyone would? Do you think she relishes being Redwood Rose’s daughter? Ms. Rose is a victim of her circumstances, just as all omegas are. More so than most, even. Instead of castigating her for things outside of her control, perhaps consider her unique perspective. She’s the only one among us who’s been to the new Radcliffe Industries facility.”
She’s wrong, I realize, a chill slipping down my spine.
Cadigan has been to the clandestine facility, too.
