When I was able to breathe again, I saw what I’d run in to. Two large, rusted rings had been secured into the granite. Mooring for supply boats? Or did the boats come bearing victims? Who knew what evil visited these shores…? Either way, it was a good sign. Somebody used this entrance, which meant it led somewhere.
Resting against the bars with one arm, cradling my nose in the crook of my other, I peered inside. Up close like this, the thing looked more like a sewage runoff than ever. I whispered, “Here I come, boys,” and gave the gate a jiggle, but it was much more solid than the rusted iron would suggest. “No problem.” I turned my attention to the handle and froze, taken aback. “What the—?”
I’d expected a simple lock, maybe a sliding bolt or a padlock hanging from a latch, but not this. Rather than a single gate, there were two, like French doors opening up the middle. I ran my fingers along the outer edges of the portal, feeling for hinges, but they weren’t visible from this side.
A lack of hinges wasn’t the strange part, though. Instead of a traditional lock, a circular medallion roughly the size of my palm connected the two doors in the very center. Tracing my finger, I could feel a seam between the doors, above and below the medallion, but the disc itself was a solid whole, not atop the metal, but a part of the iron itself.
How would I ever break into this? There was no keyhole. No lever or latch.
“Weird.” I sat back on my heels to regroup. Surely this was pickable. Every lock was pickable, right? Generally, I was a whiz with good old breaking and entering. I always kept random useful bits in my pockets—paper clips, safety pins, pop tops—enough to pick any lock…except this one.
I studied the medallion, utterly perplexed. A sideways figure eight, the symbol for infinity, was carved in the center. There were two triangles etched within that, one triangle in each half of the eight, so that they touched, their silhouette like a sideways letter X. The triangle on the right was indented, a little niche in the metal.
Was this the keyhole? I’d never seen such a thing.
My hand hovered over the medallion, and I realized I hadn’t yet touched it. Something about it radiated with power. Creeped me out. It was such a peculiar symbol, such a magical symbol. I had the eerie feeling that handling it might have horrific consequences. My hand hovered until my biceps began to tremble, and then I just felt stupid.
I was being weak. It was time to be brave. To be rational. Not to be freaked out by some stupid old lock. I had nothing to lose. I touched it to prove to myself I could.
Exploring it with my hands, I was no less perplexed. I tilted my head this way and that, wishing the ambient light might suddenly catch something I’d missed. But as far as I could tell, this was unpickable—not just hard to pick, but unpickable. Impossible. Cryptic. In all the books I’d read, I’d never encountered such a thing.
The metal was cool and damp with sea mist. A thin layer of corrosion felt like dirt under my fingertip. I wriggled my finger, using my nail to feel for some seam or edge, but there was nothing. Nothing to pry open, nothing to unfasten, unlock, or unlatch. There’d be no picking this thing. The triangle was hollow.
Not unlike my heart.
CHAPTER THIRTY
I lingered in the dining hall, unable to make myself care enough to move. I’d failed. The more time that passed, the more deeply I doubted myself. The more profoundly I believed there might’ve been something I could’ve done differently. Better.
If I hadn’t been able to prevent Emma’s death, then at least I could’ve avenged it. But now I couldn’t even do that. My sole and final goal had been to break into that keep. There was an entire goddamned hole in the cliff leading inside the castle, but I couldn’t even find my way through that.
I sucked.
And then there was Alcántara. My defeat was his triumph. I couldn’t bear facing him, but I had no choice. Assassination class was next period. He’d know by now how I’d completed his assignment. I’d killed Toby, innocent farm boy. I’d gutted him on the end of a damned dung fork. I dreaded giving Alcántara the pleasure.
The worst part, though? It was the fear that I hadn’t needed to kill him. Not really. And yet, not only had I done it, but for an instant, I’d relished it. That was the part that really sickened me.
So I’d gotten Toby after all, and what did that make me? Maybe Yasuo had spoken truly. Maybe I was a killer.
Yasuo. He was out there somewhere. How much longer did he have walking among us before he appeared on the other side of those bars? He felt called to the Draug already—the other Trainees had had to go out there to retrieve him.
And what of Rob? Was he even still alive? His last words had been about the girls, how we fed the vampires. Was that why Yas attacked him? Had his comment evoked memories of Emma somehow? I didn’t want to contemplate what it said about me that I wished I could’ve been the one who’d gotten him in the end.
What did any of it matter, anyhow? I couldn’t get into the castle. I was a failure all around.
Rob would probably heal. Then he’d seek me out. And I had no doubt he’d eventually find me. He’d catch me off guard, eventually. Eventually, he’d kill me.
I sloshed my spoon in my cold chicken soup, mashing soft carroty bits along the edge of the bowl. Lunch was winding down. I heard the clack of dishes and cutlery. Chairs scraping. Chatter grew louder as kids drifted by, then faded as they bused their dishes and headed out the door. The noises grew fewer and farther between.
I felt a body sit next to me at the table. Ronan. Surprise, surprise. I felt his lecture mode vibrate along my side.
“You are too reckless.”
I met his eyes. “This is news?”
An instant’s vulnerability put me on my guard, and I carefully schooled all emotion from my face. I feared if I let the tiniest bit show, the dam would break and I’d snap completely.
“Going out with me in the dory is one thing, but roving the countryside”—he paused to temper his voice, pitching it calmer, quieter…steelier—“that is another matter entirely. I’ve begged you to have a care. There has been too much sneaking around. You’re in danger of…”
“Of getting killed? Duh.”
He was silent for a moment, and I glanced up expecting to see his Ronan-look, but the tenderness that waited for me instead caught me off guard. “In danger of losing it. Of losing yourself. Losing heart. Forgetting who you are, truly.” He touched the backs of his fingers to my cheek. It was the lightest of touches, but I felt it sear through me. Was he using his powers, or was it simply the heat of his touch? “You must protect yourself. And I don’t simply mean your body.” His fingers traced down my neck to my chest. “You must guard your heart. Who you are.”
I could protect myself. The first step would be to put a stop to this confusing interaction. I edged away from him. “Don’t you get it?”
That snapped him out of it. “What I get is that you need to stop wandering off campus,” he said sternly.
“They have to be stopped, Ronan. I’m going to stop them.”
He glanced around quickly, ensuring no one was within earshot. It looked like steam might shoot from his ears. “I caution you, Annelise. Do not underestimate the power of those in charge. These little excursions of yours—don’t be fooled. The vampires may not catch everything, but they see more than you think. You’ve been given much latitude, but it’s because you’re one of Alcántara’s greatest amusements. Do not miscalculate the situation. To him, you are merely a toy. A plaything. The days of his patience, tolerance, and I daresay, curiosity will one day come to a close, and the moment Hugo tires of you, the moment he feels you’ve crossed him, he will dispose of you without so much as blinking.”
He paused to let it sink in, then added more quietly, “Do not forget these things. Keep your vision clear, unclouded by passion. You want revenge, yes. But you must not let rage blind you. Blind rage kills.”
“Like I killed Toby, you mean?”
He deflated, seeing my pain. “Aye,” he said gently. “Like Toby.”
The sympathy in his voice was dangerously close to breaking something inside me. To guard against it, I forced some cynical cheer. “They’re all just monsters anyway, right?”
But Ronan didn’t smile at my joke. Rather, he remained serious as ever. “And you must mind that you don’t become like them. You have been reckless”—he put up a hand to stop me before I could grumble, this again?—“reckless with your person, with who you are, and if you don’t stop, then you have become the monster.”
Me. A monster.
My father’s daughter. Someone who preyed on those weaker than me.
It cut too deeply to contemplate. Too close to my greatest fear. I lashed out. “Is that all you came to tell me?”
There was a beat of tense silence. A shift in mood. The unspoken mutual agreement that we were changing topic.
“I must go away for a while,” he said.
Of course. I was getting all too used to guys going away for a while. I wanted to say, “Not you, too,” but dared not draw a parallel between Ronan and any vampires. I’d learned my lesson by now.
Instead, I forced my voice to sound casual as I asked, “Off island?”
“I have business in the village. For the upcoming festival. Preparations must be overseen.”
“You’ll come back.” I didn’t know if it was a question or a statement.
“I will.” He paused, shifted. I noted a tensing in his jaw. What emotion was he concealing? “You must promise you’ll keep yourself safe in the meantime.”
I chuffed a little laugh. “Don’t you get tired of looking out for me?” I knew what the answer would be, but still, I needed to hear it. Just then, I longed for support. A friend. It struck me how much I’d come to count on him for that since Carden’s disappearance.
Lately, my vampire hadn’t been here when I needed it, but Ronan had. Ronan spent so much energy concerning himself with what he should do, what was right, while Carden was all about what he wanted to do. And apparently, what he wanted to do didn’t involve me.