CHAPTER 2

Stellan and I stood in a courtyard outside the Old City, waiting to be called in to the initiation ceremony. The plan was to watch for the box, and if it looked like what we needed, do something to pause this ceremony before it actually went through.

Above, palm trees rustled against the cream stone. We’d been to Jerusalem once before, when the Saxons were considering marrying me off to Daniel Melech, but I hadn’t seen much of it that day.

For some reason, I had expected the city to be stuck in time, all old stone and desert and prayer, but I was wrong. It was also modern and clean and bustling. As I looked out the window on our car ride here, people crowded around bus stops, and bikes and cars shared the streets. Blue-and-white Israeli flags waved against a cloudless sky, and a riot of multicolored flowers peeked over balconies.

Jack had told me a little about the city’s history the last time we came here. Jerusalem was one of the oldest continuously inhabited cities in the world. There had been so much devastation here—wars, natural disasters, being conquered over and over. And yet it had survived it all, on this same spot, a city of great importance to three major religions and to so many cultures through history. A melting pot and a highly contested land, a bustling modern metropolis and an ancient stronghold all in one. None of us were fans of the Melech family, but their city was a different story. If things were different, I’d want to spend time here.

Now I brushed those thoughts aside. The last thing I needed was to get sentimental about another city, especially considering what else we’d seen on the way here.

Just around the corner from where we’d stopped the car, I’d seen a group of girls about my age, wearing military uniforms and eating Popsicles in front of a coffee shop. They all held machine guns strapped across their chests as casually as I’d hold a backpack. Nearby, another group of girls in headscarves and jeans leaned against a 50% OFF SALE sign, looking at their phones. Down the street, a group of little boys played soccer.

The worrisome part was that at least half of each group was wearing white surgical masks.

When Cole had slipped the virus into champagne glasses in Paris, a dozen people had died. The world outside the Circle had quickly embraced various theories: it was a deadly new flu, or something in the air. Some even got it right and called it a biological weapon. What they didn’t know was that from this, at least, they were safe: the virus only affected Circle members.

The fact that this meant my mother was somehow related to the Circle and hadn’t told me was something I hadn’t been able to think about yet. What we did have to think about was that, despite the fact that there had just been the one incident, the alarm was spreading all over the globe. We could only hope that if we prevented the Saxons from releasing it further, it would die down eventually.

I realized I was clutching my phone hard enough that my fingers had gone white. I shook them out, then turned on the phone, looking at news sites. Mystery Virus Airborne? one said. Deaths in Paris Under Investigation.

I flipped to another tab: the online version of Napoleon’s Oraculum. The Book of Fate.

Napoleon had found the Oraculum in a different royal tomb in Egypt, and had consulted it to make important decisions. At first we’d thought he might have used it to hide a clue, but as far as we could tell, the book had nothing to do with Alexander or Olympias’s virus. I sometimes still looked at it anyway. In this online version, you chose one of the questions, selected one of the groups of stars below, read the answer. One of the questions caught my eye: Shall I be successful in my present undertaking?

I brushed a fingertip over one of the star groups at random, and it took me to an answer:

Choose not the path of fear, but that of love.

“Cryptic,” Stellan said. I turned to find him looking over my shoulder. “If our political strategy consists of consulting an ancient Greek Magic 8 Ball, I think we need a new plan.”

I clicked off the page and flipped him off.

“That’s not very ladylike behavior for someone who’s about to become a Circle queen.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were looking forward to this,” I said. “I suppose you have gotten exactly what you wanted the whole time. Us together. The girl and the One. The only thing you’re not getting is the public marriage consummation. Sorry.”

“Yes, that’s too bad,” he said wistfully. “I do prefer all my romantic encounters to be forced by awkward, tragic circumstance and witnessed by hostile strangers.” He plucked at the fabric over his chest. “Maybe I’m just here for the outfit.”

Stellan and I looked ready for a cult initiation. Our thin white shifts hung loosely from our shoulders to our bare feet. No matter how much attitude Stellan gave it, his bare ankles made him look uncomfortable as he shifted from foot to foot. I could see the two tattoos on his back through the thin fabric, and also the outlines of his scars. They snaked over his bare shoulders and partway down his arms.

Stellan’s “magic skin” was what had allowed him to survive the fire that left those scars. (“Stop calling it magic,” Elodie would admonish every time we said the word. “It’s highly advanced science we don’t understand. Olympias was a genius.”) The scars were how we had discovered what Stellan really was. The Circle’s thirteenth bloodline—Alexander the Great’s own line. The part of the mandate that said The One walks through fire and isn’t burned was not metaphorical after all.

If the Circle knew the virus came from our blood, they might capture or kill us—either because they were afraid we could be a weapon, or because they wanted to use us as one. So since we couldn’t tell them what the union really produced, Stellan’s scars were how we’d proven our identity.

“The Great modification,” the Circle had named it. It had long been rumored that Alexander was not a normal human, that something allowed him to never lose a battle, and to come back from injuries and illnesses that killed thousands of others.

I shuffled my feet on the rough pavement under my own shift. “The virgin sacrifice robes are a little cliché.”

“It’s cliché because every secret society in the world has taken their cues from the Circle for thousands of years, whether they realize it or not,” he said, peering over my head. “To answer your question, no. As you already know, I don’t want to become more of a Circle puppet than we already are. Maybe we get inside, see this box, and pull a fire alarm before we have to pledge ourselves to the world’s worst people forever. But if not,” he said, nudging me exaggeratedly with an elbow, “at least it’ll be some comfort that if you can’t put a bullet in the Saxons’ heads, you can take the Circle from them and ruin their lives, right?”

He wasn’t entirely wrong. But he was doing it again: trying to draw me out, trying to be friends. “No one’s watching now,” I said coolly. “We don’t have to pretend to be a happy little couple. Save it for inside.”

I wondered what was taking so long. We’d arrived half an hour ago and had been walked through the basics of the ceremony. They’d welcome us; we’d accept. We’d pledge our loyalty. We’d get the tattoos that signified our commitment to the Circle.

Jack and Elodie were pacing at the gate, making sure no unsuspecting tourists wandered in. Occasionally, I saw Jack glance back at us with something besides a Keeper’s responsibility on his face.

Despite the fact that he’d nearly gotten us killed reporting on me to the Saxons for what he thought was my own good, and despite the fact that I hadn’t forgotten how it felt to learn he’d been lying to me, I trusted that Jack was on our side now. He had promised his loyalty to us, and if nothing else, I knew he’d honor that. He didn’t know how not to.

That didn’t mean it wasn’t awkward. Especially at times like now, or last night, when I could see him deliberately overlook Stellan’s hand resting on my back, how I reached up to whisper in his ear. With everything else going on, that unresolved tension was the last thing I wanted to deal with, which was why I hadn’t. The boy I’d cared so much about until he broke my trust and my heart. The one who was my “destiny,” who I’d had this purely chemical, completely unwanted attraction to until we’d finally given in to it after too many drinks.

And then my mother had died. And then nothing mattered.

I turned when Elodie’s boots clicked across the courtyard. She and Jack didn’t have to wear the ceremonial robes, so she was in her usual black top and black pants. Her platinum-blond hair was as sleek as usual, but at her hairline, there was an odd patch of what could have been darker hair. I’d never seen Elodie with even a hint of grown-out roots. These really were different times. “They’re ready for you. Give me your phones. They’ll go in the car with everything else.”

There were no weapons allowed inside Circle ceremonies. Stellan had given his up easily enough to make me remember he was just about as deadly without them. I wasn’t. I could feel my little knife strapped to my thigh. I hadn’t gone anywhere without it since my mom died, and I wasn’t about to start now. Elodie was taking just one thing in: a slim bag strapped across her back with Alexander’s bone inside, just in case.

When she’d stashed our things away, Elodie led us forward, and Stellan stiffly offered me his arm. I felt the rustling of the thin linen shift against my legs as I walked, the late afternoon breeze flapping its hem.

Elodie took her place on one side of us, Jack on the other. I felt Stellan draw me just a little closer, the ropes of muscles in his forearm tight and tense under my palm. When the four of us were alone, there might be uncomfortable moments. But here, even I had to admit it was us against the world.

With Stellan and me leading the way, we took the steps down into the darkened cave to candle flames flickering low, and a sea of people in black.

A low chant started at the center of the group, and it moved outward until it filled the chamber. We stopped to acknowledge each person, both bowing low and raising our hands to our foreheads as if in prayer. Each person responded with a modified version of the gesture, their raised hands opening before us into a sign of acceptance. Arjun Rajesh smiled. The Fredericks and the Mikados nodded formally. When we reached Luc and his father, Hugo Dauphin, Luc bowed deeply, but Monsieur Dauphin hesitated. He used to have both of us under his thumb: Stellan had been his Keeper, and the Dauphins had once tried to kidnap me and marry me off to Luc. But finally, he raised his hands, too. I felt Stellan tense just a little, and then I felt him stand straighter.

Despite everything, goose bumps rose on my arms, just like they had when the Melechs had obeyed our order last night. We were standing at the center of a group more powerful and dangerous and ancient than I could have imagined existed until recently, and they were accepting us as equals and more. It’s seductive being wanted, Stellan had said once. He wasn’t wrong. We both felt it. We both liked the feeling it gave of being in charge of our lives.

I could tell as both our heads swiveled, searching for the next clue, that we were both still hoping it wouldn’t be our fate.

As we passed, the Circle members pulled up the necklines of their black robes into heavy hoods, forming a shadowy knot that enveloped us more and more thickly as we approached the center of the cavern.

Above the crowd, on one of the walls, a symbol was etched. Our symbol—the symbol of the new thirteenth family. There had never been a question what it would be. I touched the locket around my neck that bore the same symbol. The thirteen-loop knot. I’d had this locket nearly my whole life, since I found it in my mom’s things when I was little. I wasn’t sure where the symbol had come from, but I knew it had been instrumental in the quest that had led to where we were now. Our mentor, Fitz, had used it to signify clues he wanted us to pay attention to, and before him, so had Napoleon. And now, if we did finish this ceremony, we would all be tattooed with it.

“This ritual is one the Circle hasn’t performed in thousands of years,” said the man who must have been the master of ceremonies.

I looked around the cave. It was so dark, I couldn’t see anything beyond the assembled Circle members. Did someone have the box, or could it be hidden in here?

“. . . brings together the full Circle once again as we welcome back to the fold a line that has been lost for as long as we can remember,” the man was saying. “The acceptance of the new thirteenth family is an important step in our growth as a Circle. I now present to you the candidates for the new thirteenth family of the Circle of Twelve. The Korolev family.”

I felt Stellan look down at me. We were taking my symbol, so we were taking his name. It only seemed fair.

Behind the mass of Circle members, I could see Keepers standing against the far wall. Jack and Elodie, though, were near us. I met Elodie’s eyes for a second, and she gave the smallest shake of her head. She hadn’t seen anything, either.

“Repeat my words,” the moderator said, translating into English after a long speech I couldn’t understand. “I pledge fealty to my brothers, and may nothing come between us, to my death.” We repeated the words. “I pledge to do no harm to my own, or risk losing my life. My blood, my family, my brothers, stronger as one than apart. The thirteen as one, a world ruled by blood.”

“By blood,” came a murmur from the group.

From all corners of the room, bells tolled, their light tinging reverberating off the walls. The chanting started up again, low, the bass to the bells’ soprano, and then the crowd parted to reveal a fire that had just been lit. I was startled for a moment that they’d let smoke touch this ancient place, but this was the Circle. Of course they would.

The moderator threw a handful of something into the fire and it flared high, blinding me and releasing the pungent scent of herbs. I felt Stellan wince. Fire was one of the only things in the world he was afraid of.

The moderator called something in a language I didn’t know, and a smaller group of people stepped forward, holding knives.

“A baptism by flame unites the lines,” the moderator said. This was the last part of the ceremony before the tattoos. I felt a tug in my gut. Were we really going through with this?

“Rule by blood!” the moderator announced.

“By blood,” the crowd murmured again.

Sergei Vasilyev came forward. He sliced a line across his forearm and let the blood drip into the fire as the flames tried to lick at his skin. Then the moderator handed him something.

It was a small box, its lid hinged open. “This same blood, combined as one, will make the Circle complete,” he proclaimed. Combining blood. That sounded as familiar as the box itself.

Mr. Vasilyev let another drop of blood fall into the box, and handed it off to his right. The next Circle family head, and the next, all the way down the line, did the same. The fire crackled, growing as if fueled by the offerings.

I had my eyes planted firmly on the box. Stellan pressed closer, his hand over mine at his elbow. He’d seen, too, and by the look in their eyes, so had Jack and Elodie. It might be the same replica box we’d seen last night. It was the same size and shape. But it looked—different, somehow.

The chanting grew louder. Stellan and I were each handed a knife of our own. By unspoken agreement, we stepped away from each other. The chanting grew frenzied as I came to the edge of the fire. The heat was like a wall this close. I put the tip of the knife to the forearm farthest from Stellan, and drew the blade across my skin. I felt a bead of sweat drip down my chest. I held my arm over the fire, as far in as I could reach, and watched the dark droplets sizzle as they fell.

I stepped back. The box was placed in my hands.

I knew immediately that, though it looked just like the one we’d seen last night, it was not the same. This was far older, like the one at the Melechs’ was a toy. I held my arm over it, and let my blood drip inside onto wood already stained red.

And then I saw it. Etched into the back wall of the box was our symbol.

If anyone had spotted it, they might have assumed it had been specially engraved for today. But this carving was not new. I looked up. Stellan’s eyes were burning into me like he was trying to read my mind. I tilted the box so he could see, and then glanced back at Jack and Elodie and let my eyes widen a fraction.

The moderator cleared his throat and gestured Stellan forward. The chanting continued.

Stellan stepped to the fire, letting his blood drip. He rejoined me, and I reluctantly handed him the box. Once we finished this, the ceremony would be all but done.

I could see the same thoughts swirl behind Stellan’s eyes. He took the box. His blood dripped inside. The bells chimed like a chorus of heartbeats. Row after row, the Circle members got to their knees.

That’s when Elodie screamed.

I jumped so hard, I almost knocked the box out of Stellan’s hands. The chanting cut off abruptly.

“Run!” she yelled, pointing. “They’re coming for us!”

It didn’t matter that she was pointing at nothing. It didn’t matter that it didn’t make sense. This was her version of pulling a fire alarm, and it worked. Keepers were rushing to their families, hustling them toward the exit. People screamed, threw back the hoods on their robes.

“Get to the exit!” Elodie yelled. She grabbed the back of my robe, and Stellan’s, and shoved us in the opposite direction. I saw what she was looking at. There were a couple of passageways off the back of the cavern. We were still holding the box. We’d take it and find another way out, pretending we’d gotten lost in the chaos.

I clung to Stellan’s arm as we disappeared into the dark mouth of the tunnel, and we squinted into the box. The flames from the main cavern were the only light we had. I heard Elodie’s voice, and Jack’s, still ushering everyone out. “Look,” I said. “The symbol is etched into some kind of metal strip that goes all the way around—”

And then there was a bang so loud, it sounded like the world above us had imploded.