The dull ache in my ankle turned into sharp pain, and I struggled to keep up with her, but she didn’t slow down. At last, when we reached a dark corridor, she stopped and pointed to a door ten feet away.

It was different from the others in the manor, made of dark wood with ornate carvings that created a scene I couldn’t quite make out. Light spilled out from the other side, and Ava tiptoed toward it, gesturing for me to follow.

This time I didn’t ask any questions. I moved with her clumsily, keeping a hand against the wall to keep myself from tripping and announcing our presence to whoever was behind the door. The closer we got, the clearer the scene on the door became, and soon I realized what it was. On the top half of the door was a beautiful meadow, with tiny flowers carved into the wood and trees on either side. Somehow the artist had managed to make it look sunny, and it reminded me so strongly of Central Park that a lump caught in my throat.

But underneath it, the scene changed. A layer of earth separated the meadow from a dark river that flowed underneath, and beside it there was a delicate garden. Instead of growing from the soil, it grew from jagged stone. The trees weren’t trees; they were made of something solid, and even though it was only a piece of art, I could tell they weren’t meant to be alive. And in the center of the picture stood pillars of jewels forming an arch above a single flower, tiny and weak in its surroundings.

As spellbound as I was by the beautiful carvings, I overheard voices leaking through the crack in the door. At first I couldn’t make them out properly, but Ava nudged me closer, and gathering my courage, I peeked into the room.

Henry stood with his back to me, his shoulders hunched as he stared at something I couldn’t see. He turned enough so I could make out his profile, and something inside of me ached when I saw that his eyes were red.

But he wasn’t the one talking. The second voice was higher than his, but still masculine and familiar, and whoever it was spoke in hushed words laced with urgency and frustration.

“You can’t keep her here.” I couldn’t see who was talking, but I was certain I recognized his voice. “That was part of the deal. You can’t force her to stay if she doesn’t want to.”

I inched closer. Underneath me, the floorboard creaked, and I froze. From my vantage point I could see Henry also still, and my heart beat so loudly I was sure he must’ve been able to hear it. But after a few tense seconds, he spoke, and I exhaled.

“She did not want to leave,” he said tiredly. “She thought our deal had finished because she failed the exam.”

“You still stopped her,” said the second voice. It was achingly familiar, but he spoke so low it was hard to place. “She told you twice to leave her alone, and you ignored her.”

“Because she did not understand.” Henry glared over his shoulder to a spot behind the door where the other stood.

“It doesn’t matter.” He spoke viciously, and I glanced at Ava, but she lingered by the corner now. “You prevented her from leaving.”

“I can argue semantics with you all night, but the fact remains that she has not left the property,” said Henry. “You have no right to ask the other members of the council to terminate the deal.”

“I do, and I will.” A shadow passed over me, and I shrank back. “I won’t let you force her to stay like you did Persephone. She isn’t your prisoner, and you aren’t her keeper. You can’t manipulate her into this situation and then act surprised when she hates you so much she wants to leave.”

Malice dripped from his words, and his voice was filled with venom. Across the room Henry tensed, but he said nothing. The urge to speak up for him was overwhelming, and I badly wanted to tell whoever it was that he was an idiot and I stayed because I wanted to help Henry, not because he was forcing me, but the words died on my lips. I’d gone for months without answers. I couldn’t give up any chance I might have at finally getting them.

“Let her go,” said the voice, quieter this time. “Persephone didn’t love you, and you can’t replace her no matter how hard you look. Even if you could, Kate isn’t that person.”

“She could be.” Henry’s words came out choked. “My sister thinks she is.”

“My aunt is too blinded by guilt and determination to see the situation clearly. Please, Henry.” The floor creaked again as he stepped toward Henry. I could make out his arm now, and he wore a black jacket that looked far too thin for November. “Let her go before she dies, too. We both know it’s only a matter of time, and if you care about her at all, you’ll let her go before she becomes another victim.” He paused, and I held my breath. “Eleven girls are already dead because of you. Don’t turn Kate into the twelfth because of your selfishness.”

The sound of breaking glass exploded inches away from me. I gasped and stumbled backward, and my ankle twisted underneath me again. I cried out, falling to the ground. The door opened, and the blood drained from my face when I saw who was on the other side.

James.

CHAPTER 12

JAMES

“You’re in on this, too?” My voice was hoarse, and I stared at James in disbelief. He looked exactly like I remembered him from school—ears sticking out, his blond hair a mess, and his massive headphones wrapped around his neck.

“Kate—” he started, but Henry appeared in the door, and he pushed James aside. When Henry offered me his hand, I took it, glaring at James.