Immortal Consequences(94)

42

August

The walls of the banquet hall had been enchanted to look as though they had been dusted with starlight, a twinkling cosmos projected upon the glass ceiling. Vines dotted with white roses wrapped around the window frames, slithering their way toward the floor. Silver trays filled to the brim with towers of champagne floated around the dance floor. Enchanted butterflies fluttered their wings and soared throughout the room in swirling patterns, a kaleidoscope of opalescent colors. Students crowded around the dance floor, milling about and giggling into their hands, each one of them outfitted in fine fabrics and rich colors, an ostentatious display that made August’s stomach involuntarily churn.

When he finally mustered up the courage to walk inside, a nauseating cloud assaulted his senses. The air was redolent with the putrid scent of illusionary magic. He lifted his hand as one of the butterflies danced in front of him, swatting it away.

It disappeared in a puff of indigo and violet sparks.

Nothing but an illusion. Just like everything else in this godforsaken place.

“Don’t you clean up nice.”

Irene’s voice reverberated behind him. He tilted his head back and looked her up and down.

She wore a sleek midnight-blue gown with a rather high slit, exposing the side of her right thigh. Silver earrings shaped to look like daggers dangled from her ears, the tip of each blade adorned with glittering sapphires. Of course. Much like their usual uniforms, the ball outfits provided by the academy were tailored to fit the students’ personalities. And Irene’s dagger earrings were a stark reminder that her beauty came with a steep price.

“Nice dress.”

She narrowed her gaze. “Don’t pretend like you’re not dying to rip it off me.”

“I’d rather rip my own eyes out.”

“Well, I can help with that.”

He glanced down at her abdomen. Though it had been a couple of weeks since her initial wound in the maze, August could tell it was still bothering her.

“How’s it healing?”

“It’s still there, if that’s what you’re asking.” Her bottom lip twitched in displeasure. “I guess I forgot how persistent pain can be. Right when I think it might be fully healed, I make the tiniest wrong movement and it hurts all over again.”

“Bad luck,” mused August.

“Don’t be an asshole. There are still two trials left. You might have come out unscathed from the first couple, but I’d wager you won’t be so lucky next time around.”

“Wouldn’t you just love that?”

Something flashed behind her eyes. A fleeting emotion. So fast he could have missed it.

Irene stepped closer.

“You know what? I would love it. I would absolutely love to watch you crumble if it meant I’d be the last one standing. Because no matter what you do, no matter how many tricks you have up your sleeve—I will find a way to win.” She stepped past him, turning to glance at him over her shoulder.

“I always do.”

And with that, she stormed off, disappearing into the crowd.

August refocused his attention on the room. The other nominees were congregated, slightly separated from the rest of the students. Josie and Carter were practically joined at the hip, sitting at a table, each nursing a glass of wine. They’d been inseparable since they lost their partners, clearly forming a new alliance. Emilio and Olivier were standing behind the table, awkwardly swaying along to the classical tune echoing throughout the hall. August assumed each was waiting for the other to pluck up the courage to ask for a dance, though neither of them dared to glance at the other.

“They’re infuriating,” said a familiar voice.

Masika had appeared behind him without a sound. She wore a golden embroidered dress, delicate bracelets wrapped around both arms. Emeralds decorated the golden bands of metal, glistening beneath the flickering candlelight. “I just want to force them to open their eyes.”

“I suppose we could do it for them.” August slid his gaze toward her. “Just a gentle nudge in their subconscious should do the trick.”

Masika shook her head in disapproval and swiped a glass of champagne from a nearby floating tray.

“Why do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Put on that ‘I hate the world’ front. You want everyone to think you’re this cold, apathetic person, but I don’t think you are.” Masika took a long sip, eyeing him carefully. “You’re not a bad guy, August. Stop trying to be one.”

“Masika.” August turned to her, angling his face closer. “Believe me when I tell you…that I am the furthest thing from good.”

She kept her gaze locked on his, unflinching.

“Well, guess what?” She leaned in closer. “I still don’t buy it.”

August chuckled, sweeping his gaze back toward the dance floor. He spotted Irene on the other side of the room, separated from the other nominees. She kept fussing with something on her neck, though August couldn’t see anything there.

“Irene seems more distant than usual.”

Masika nodded, lips pursed. “I thought it might just be the pressure of the Decennial, but…I’m worried about her. It’s like I can feel her fading. Like I can practically see the rift forming between us. Honestly, it kind of reminds me of—”