Immortal Consequences(100)

Masika paled. “Maybe they’re keeping them in another building. Maybe they’re just—”

“There’s something else.” Wren stepped closer, dipping her voice lower. “I’ve spoken to multiple students, and nobody can remember them.”

Masika shook her head.

“That’s…that’s not possible. I remember them. You remember them.”

“But we’re both competing in the Decennial. Anybody else, anybody not involved in the competition…it’s like they’ve been erased from their minds. Any memories they had of them vanished.” Wren could hear how impossible it sounded. How ridiculous. Truthfully, she wouldn’t have believed it if she hadn’t witnessed it herself.

“Are you positive?” Masika whispered.

“It’s—it’s true.” Wren nodded ardently. “I promise I’m not lying. I promise I’m not—”

“Okay.” Masika grabbed her firmly by the shoulders. “I believe you.”

Wren blinked, taken aback.

“You do?”

“Of course. Wren…you might be a number of things…but a liar isn’t one of them.”

“Thank you.” Wren let out a wavering chuckle. “I think.”

“We should get the others and tell them what you know.” Masika dropped her hands and nervously fidgeted with one of the golden bracelets wrapped around her wrist. “Emilio snuck into the Library earlier today and got a book on shadow magic. Maybe…maybe this is all connected somehow. The shadow magic…the competition…the memories. We just need to get everyone together so we can figure it out.”

“Should we meet at Bonestrod?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. If we’re gone for too long, Silas might grow suspicious…”

“How about the garden?” Wren suggested. “That way we can stay near the ball.”

“Perfect.”

They had taken two steps back toward the banquet hall when a thought occurred to Wren.

She came to a halt. “Wait—I…I don’t think August is in the ballroom anymore.”

Masika turned to look at her.

“What do you mean?”

“He left…” Wren winced, remembering the look on his face before he had run out of the room, leaving her alone on the dance floor. “I don’t think he plans on coming back anytime soon.”

Masika glanced over her shoulder impatiently. “Well, do you know where he went?”

“I have a good idea where I might find him.”

“Then go.” Masika gestured her forward. “I’ll gather the others. But…hurry.”

Wren nodded and scurried down the corridor. She pushed open the heavy doors of Elysium Hall and burst into the night, the hem of her crimson dress dancing against the wind. Cool air whipped against her face as she ran in search of August. She wasn’t sure how she knew where she’d find him. It was just this gut feeling. This instinct. It was like she could feel him calling to her, even when they were far apart, even when the odds were stacked against them. And as she approached the familiar granite steps that led toward Memorium, her certainty only grew. That feeling rushing up inside her, drawing her nearer, pulling her toward him like a rubber band snapping into place.

And before she even placed her hand upon the doorknob, before she even had the chance to open the door, she heard his voice calling out to her, the sound of it washing over her like fine morning mist.

Loughty.

45

Olivier

There wasn’t enough cheap champagne in the world to mend what he had broken. How could he have spoken to Emilio like that? With such bitterness? With such disregard for his feelings? But this outburst was just another reminder that perhaps Olivier hadn’t changed as much as he thought he had. He still held on to his proclivity for pushing people away—his tendency to lash out when faced with panic and indecision. He was like a wild animal, desperately gnawing off his own arm in an effort to save himself.

He reflexively went to grab another champagne glass but stopped himself, shoving his hand back into his coat pocket. What would drowning his sorrows in drink prove? It was just another way of escaping what he had done. No…he should face the consequences of his actions with as much dignity as he could muster. He should turn back around and run straight to Emilio and plead his case. He should— “I don’t know what I did wrong.”

Olivier glanced over his shoulder, only to find Emilio standing in front of him. God…he had never hated himself more. Emilio was watching him with red-rimmed eyes, nervously wringing a napkin between his hands.

“Emilio.” Olivier sighed, rubbing his face in exasperation. “You did nothing wrong. I’m just a careless drunk. Really.”

“It’s more than that. There’s something you’re not telling me.”

“Of course. But what is a man without his secrets?”

Emilio didn’t budge.

“Olivier.”

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Right. You’re not going to let this go, are you?” When Emilio didn’t respond, simply staring at him with unwavering resolve, Olivier knew he had lost this fight. “All right, fine. I suppose being drunk off champagne is as good a time as any to tell you…” He let out one final quivering breath before summoning up the courage to say the two words he had hoped never to speak out loud. “I’m…forgetting.”