Immortal Consequences(90)

“No idea. But whatever they were doing, they clearly were trying to be secretive about it,” Emilio whispered. His eyes traveled down to their interlocked hands, and something shifted in his expression. The slightest twitch in his lip. And then he dropped Olivier’s hand like a hot coal and turned his focus back toward the common room.

Olivier did his best to mask his disappointment. “Well, we were sneaking around too. I guess we can’t really judge.”

“No. I guess not.”

Emilio shifted from one foot to the other. He cleared his throat.

God. Why did things feel so awkward all of a sudden? Olivier had the urge to dunk himself in a tub of ice.

“Well.” He clapped his hands together, hoping to defuse some of the tension. “We got the book!”

Emilio’s face instantly lit up again. “We did! I’m gonna take a few minutes to skim through it…see if I can find anything useful. I’ll be quick.”

“Good idea.”

“I’ll meet you out here—” Emilio was already walking down the corridor. “I’ll just be a second!”

He turned the corner and disappeared into his room.

Olivier stood there for a moment. It felt like his entire body was buzzing, practically vibrating from the sheer adrenaline. He began to restlessly pace about the common room, absentmindedly whistling beneath his breath. Desperate to busy his hands, he reached for the hem of his coat to fiddle with, only to realize that he had left his suit jacket in his room after his earlier brush with Emilio.

“Dammit,” he muttered. He supposed he had a few minutes before Emilio managed to peel himself away from the book, so he quickly darted toward his room to grab it.

As he walked up the stairs to the second floor, it felt as though he were floating. He could still see Emilio’s face as he fought back the urge to smile. The genuine excitement flickering behind his warm brown eyes as they ran across the Main Yard, hands clasped together.

He pushed open the door to his room, lips curved into a dumb smile, and froze.

Somebody was waiting for him on the other side.

“August.”

He was sitting on the edge of Olivier’s bed, bathed in the silver glow pooling in through the open window. His hands were clasped over his knees, as though an invisible weight pressed upon him. He wore a black tailored suit, a cloak strewn over his shoulders. His dark curls were pushed slightly away from his face, which only further emphasized just how painfully beautiful he really was.

Like a fallen angel.

“Hello, Olivier.”

Rationally, Olivier knew he should be worried. A surprise visit from August after dark wasn’t exactly something to look forward to. But he didn’t seem dangerous. He seemed…tired. Normally, August was a force to be reckoned with. A boy who swaggered down the halls with the confidence of somebody who knew nobody would be foolish enough to defy him.

Now he simply looked like a boy who was in desperate need of a nap.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?”

August looked up at him, his movements slow and deliberate. “The two of us need to have a chat.”

“You could have just knocked, you know?” Olivier closed the door behind him and stepped farther into the room. He was aware of every tiny movement. Of every hitch in August’s breath. “I have to admit, the whole ominously lurking in the corner of my room thing is a bit dramatic, even for your standards.”

August didn’t take the bait. He barely even cracked a smile.

“Apologies. It’s the first time I’ve been able to get you alone the past week,” he said, tilting his head slightly. “You’re never without Emilio, it seems.”

Olivier tensed. “Well, I’m all yours now. Go on.”

August leaned forward, his gray eyes darkening.

“Loughty can’t know about what happened in Bonestrod.”

Olivier’s chest tightened—of course. He had been expecting August to speak to him about it eventually. “I assume you’re referring to the fact that a piece of your own soul now lives inside her.”

August’s mouth curved into a rueful smile. “Correct.”

“Right, well…it’s none of my business.”

It wasn’t entirely true. He’d witnessed it. He’d helped. And, quite frankly, not a single part of him relished the thought of lying to her about what happened. But something told him August wouldn’t have liked that response, and the last thing he wanted to do was risk upsetting August when nobody was around to hear him scream.

“I need you to promise me that you won’t say anything,” August added with an exasperated sigh. “Look me in the eyes and promise me.”

“Come on, August. You’re being awfully—”

“Olivier.” August stood up and closed the space between them in a single stride. He wasn’t much taller than Olivier, but he was far more intimidating than the other boy could ever dream of being. “Enough silly quips. Enough games. Just…promise me.”

Olivier’s body tensed underneath August’s unwavering gaze. It was like looking into the eye of a storm. The eerie calm before total and utter destruction. He’d often seen the anger simmering just below the surface, the danger lurking behind August’s stoic gaze. But experiencing it this close, with such unwavering clarity, was something else entirely.