As we amble along, I let my gaze slide over the sea of uniformed students. So far, not a single person has looked remotely surprised to see me.
Unless Other Elodie’s murderer is so emotionless that seeing their victim walking around in good health wouldn’t faze them, I don’t think my “villain” is nearby.
We walk through the arched door under Luminary’s indigo-and-gold crest: a beaming sun surrounded by sprouting vines and topped by four stars, over the motto,ILLUMINATE TO ACHIEVE.Madison shoulders past a slender figure topped with a shock of red hair.
At the sight of him, my pulse skips a beat. It’s Kenneth Hearst, the guy who was stabbed to death the same night I nearly was. His picture appeared next to Asher’s in the news for weeks until they gave up on finding the culprit in what the reporters called “the Luminary student killings.”
But in this world, Elodie wasn’t attacked three years ago. Asher never died. I guess whoever came after Kenneth in my reality spared him too in this one.
Good for him. Even though his family is among the wealthiest in the city, he seemed like the quiet, studious type, never heckled or harassed anyone that I saw.
My friends have noticed someone else. “Hey, Worth!” Cadance calls out. “You better enjoy that top spot while you have it. You know next month Elodie’s going to knock you back down.”
My head jerks around at the name, my thoughts jumbling more as I take in what she said. The monthly school rankings for each senior grade level gleam with their enchanted glow along the polished marble wall next to the admin office.
UnderYear 15, the top two ranks are:
1 – Byron Worth
2 – Elodie Devine
Holy Herakles. In this reality I’m ranked two out of my whole class? And from what Cadance said, I’ve been numberonebefore?
I worked my butt off back home and have never cracked the top ten in my academic career. But then, I always assumed a certain portion of the rank was based on how much the administration wants to appease our parents rather than school performance. I haven’t gotten the impression Other Elodie spends much time on her studies.
My palm stings, and my attention snaps to the person Cadance was taunting.
The current heir to the Worth family is standing with his usual imposingly straight posture farther down the hall. His gaze settles on me without a hint of warmth, all cool darkness in a way I haven’t seen in three years.
It isn’tmyByron. I know that. This one’s kept his short coils of hair. I glimpse the gleam of a watch at his wrist that my Byron couldn’t afford anymore. The flintiness of his eyes cuts straight through me.
I still recognize so much. The slight flex of his jaw that means he’s annoyed under his disaffected façade. The trace of disdain in the curl of his lip that I’ve seen aimed at girls like Cadance but never at me before.
My heart tugs like it did with Asher, just as the man who doesn’t know he’s my match replies in a tone as coldly indifferent as his expression. “You must know you don’t stand a chance, or you wouldn’t have your friends trying to rattle me.”
Even though I’m the one he’s addressing, Cadance tenses and scoots a little behind me. If she really was a poodle, I think her tail would have dipped between her legs.
She might be willing to heckle him as a show of bravado, but she’s still nervous of the intensely controlled power the Worth family is known for. Some friend, sticking out my neck for her own clout.
Before I can respond to Byron, a brawny form I know equally well swaggers between us. “Hold on a sec.”
Salvatore flashes a grin at me that’s as sharp—and threatening—as the switchblade he keeps shoved in his back pocket and motions one broad hand toward the display. “You’d better believe I’m going to clamber over both of you void-heads. It’s just a matter of time.”
I hadn’t looked farther than my own name. There it is, right below:3 – Salvatore Cosgrave.
I’d forgotten he used to be so high in the ranks. After he split from his family… I don’t think pushing himself in classes mattered as much to him. He stayed in the lower half of the top ten based on combat magic and the strength of his glim, but he and Byron never had more than a joking rivalry for the top spot.
Salvatore aims a wink and a crude gesture at me, still with that cruel smile. “Choke on my dust, oinseach.”
He lopes off with a swipe at his ruddy black hair, leaving me wondering what exactly he called me. My Salvatore offered plenty of Irish and Italian nicknames, but there’s no mistaking from his tone that this particular term was an insult.
Mia snorts, with a fluff of her pixie cut that amplifies the Yorkie impression. “He wishes. You don’t have anything to worry about from any of them.” But she follows the declaration up with a shiver that undermines it.
If the Worths are known for their immense control, the lucent mafiosos on both sides of Salvatore’s family tree have a reputation for their lack of it—and the chaos they’re happy to conjure instead.
I grope for the fraying thread of my own self-control, fighting past the tearing sensation in my chest. What would Other Elodie do?
She’d scoff and say, “I’ve already stopped thinking about either of them.” So I go with that.
