LAYLA AND I walk down our empty dorm hallway, carrying books. There’s only a single wall torch to light our way and it’s burning low, casting long sections of the hall into dark shadow. My arm throbs from the stitches the nurse gave me, and I’ve learned that this place doesn’t believe in painkillers. I glance over my shoulder, but everything is silent and still.

I unlatch our door and Layla and I put our books down—some on European history for me, which Layla said would give me the basis of understanding for what she needs to teach me, and more on criminology for her. She also threw in some regular books about poisons and swords just in case Pippa is taking note of our reading.

I’m not sure why Layla’s still obsessively researching Stefano’s murder after we found out Charles was the culprit and Ash and I were cleared, but she seems to be fixated on the details. Maybe she just wants to understand what happened to her friend? I would ask Ash if this is normal behavior for her, but I haven’t seen him all evening.

We check the room to make sure no one is hiding anywhere, and Layla sits on the couch in front of the fireplace.

“If Brendan took the time to break in and write that message on your floor, why didn’t he just kill you when he had the chance?” she asks.

I sit down next to her. “I don’t know.” I reflexively touch the bandage on my arm. “Maybe Nyx wanted to be the one to do it, to cut me down publicly?”

Layla chews on her lip. “Yeah, but she didn’t succeed. And from what I heard, you held your own, which, against Nyx, is saying a lot. I think she saw an opportunity and took it, simple as that. Because why would she chance fighting you in the open if she could just sneak in and slit your throat?”

I shudder. “No knife?”

“That’s possible,” she says. “But how did she manage to come by a sharpened sword? The sparring blades are kept dull for a reason. Something here doesn’t add up.” She stares at the crackling fire.

“Conner said they were taking her to the dungeon,” I say. “Are they going to enforce the eye-for-an-eye rule? And how would that even work? Because technically she cut my arm, but obviously she was trying to kill me.”

Layla turns toward me. “I’m not exactly sure. I’ve never seen a situation play out this way before. They’ll do something. The dungeon is miserable, from what I’ve heard, but I’m sure you’ll get a chance to retaliate as well.”

I frown, wishing all this retaliation business would just stop. “What about Brendan? Whether he was the one who broke in or not, I’m assuming he’s got to be pissed now that one of his friends is dead and the other is in the dungeon.”

Layla’s fist clenches for just a moment. “Oh, this definitely isn’t over. I’m not trying to scare you, but if the Lions want you dead, they’re not going to stop until you are.”

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Before I even turn around, Layla is off the couch.

“We’re coming,” she says as she lifts the latch.

The guard on the other side of the door looks around, and once she sees me, she turns and goes to the next room to knock.

Layla hands me my cloak and I slip it on.

We follow the other girls down the hallway and into the foyer where Nyx and I competed in the dark. It’s hard to believe that was only a week ago; I feel like a year’s worth of chaos has ensued since then. Blackwood stands by the wall, and the twenty-four of us girls assemble on the ground in front of her and form a U.

“We have some new challenges for you tonight,” Blackwood says, and her tone makes it sound like a carefully concealed warning. “You will find these challenges different from any you have been presented with thus far. And there will be serious consequences for not completing them properly.”

She looks behind her at the guards, who step aside to let six faculty members pass, including Liu, Gupta, and Conner. Blackwood nods at them and they begin to move around the U like we’re playing a creepy game of Duck Duck Goose, each one selecting a handful of students.

Conner taps the girl on my left and Gupta taps the girl next to Layla. The girls get up and walk off in small clusters, following the faculty members who selected them, until only Layla, Aarya, Ines, and I are left.

“Follow me,” Blackwood says with no warmth. I want to protest, but I don’t dare show Aarya that I’m nervous about whatever is about to happen.

Blackwood leads us two doorways down to the teachers’ lounge I was kept in when I first arrived. The fireplace isn’t lit like it was then, and the only source of light is a single torch by the arched doorway.

Four large guards follow our group into the room, and the X guard is one of them, which only escalates my unease. Layla and I glance at each other, and I can tell by the look in her eyes that she’s worried, too. I want to ask her how extreme these challenges get, but no one is talking right now—not even Aarya.

I immediately take in the details of the room. There are two big couches near the fireplace, with a wide, sturdy coffee table between them. Two sets of armchairs with footstools separated by small end tables. A sideboard with a pitcher of water, clean glasses, and a bowl of apples. A round table with four chairs. Tapestries on the walls, and a couple of empty torch holders. A large fireplace with decorative stone trimming. A shelf full of books. A wrought-iron candelabra hanging from the ceiling. And no windows.

“Your first challenge is simple,” Blackwood says, standing directly in front of the door with two guards on either side of her. “There are six objects hidden in this room. Find them and it will make completing the second challenge easier. Don’t find them and you will wish you had—some of you more than others. I will be the one to decide when your time is up.”

That doesn’t sound remotely comforting and pretty much tells us nothing except that Blackwood makes the rules and unless we move quickly we’ll regret it.

“Begin,” Blackwood says, and everyone springs into action.

Ines goes to the bookshelf and methodically starts taking down every book. Aarya moves to the sideboard to inspect the apples. Layla drags the coffee table to the center of the room. She grabs a chair from the round table and places it on top, climbing up to the candelabra.

I turn in a circle. The furniture is the obvious go-to and most likely contains more than half of the objects. And I have no doubt those three will find whatever is there. But there has to be at least one object that isn’t hidden in the furniture. I run my eyes over the walls, looking for anything that could be shifted or manipulated. I yank on the empty wrought-iron torch holders, but they are firmly attached. I lift the tapestry, but there’s nothing behind it.

I stop at the fireplace. The stones are large and seemingly mortared in place. There are no logs in the fireplace, but there is some leftover ash. I sift through it with my fingers.

“Found one,” Aarya says with a gloating tone. She pulls a hairpin out of the end of an apple and places it on the marble top of the sideboard.

A hairpin? They hid things that small? I smack my hands together and a cloud of soot billows out. I run my fingers along the brick-sized decorative stones that make up the mantel, looking for any crack or groove that shouldn’t be there. My sooty fingers leave a trail, particularly in the tiny imperfections. Well, now, there’s an idea. I scoop up the ash and smear it on all of the small stones by the fistful, painting the whole mantel with dark gray.

“Metal nail file,” Layla says, and we all briefly turn to see her pulling it from the end of an unlit candle in the candelabra.

Aarya is removing the drawers from the sideboard and inspecting them for false backs and bottoms.

I look around me for a piece of spare fabric, but there’s nothing but the heavy tapestry. Screw it. I grab the end of my cloak and start wiping the excess soot off the stones in a circular motion.

“Two paper clips,” Ines says, pulling them from the loose spine of an old book.

Paper clips, a metal nail file, and a hairpin—there’s definitely a theme here and I’m pretty sure it has something to do with locks. Except that the door in this room, like all the doors I’ve seen, closes with a latch.

I rub at the stones faster, and a soot line forms around a fist-sized stone in the upper left corner of the mantel. I drop my cloak and grip the rock with my fingertips, wiggling it back and forth. Slowly it comes out in my hand, and I catch Ines watching me from where she’s checking the seams of a couch.

I peer into the small stone cubby and glimpse a dark metal object pushed all the way to the back. “Got one,” I say, and pull medieval-looking pliers from the hole, placing them on the mantel.

Layla slides out an inch from under the coffee table, where she’s inspecting the wood.

“Time’s up,” Blackwood says.

And just like that, the torch goes out, smothering the room in complete blackness.

“Layla?” I say.

“I’m—” she starts, but gets cut off by what sounds like a blow to the stomach. Wood scrapes against wood, and there is a squeak I can only guess belongs to moving metal.

I take a fast couple of steps toward Layla’s voice, my arms out in front of me, and smack into the coffee table with my shins, pitching forward.

“Get the hell—” Aarya starts, and her voice is muffled.

Layla coughs and wheezes, only instead of coming from the floor, the sound seems to be coming from above my head.

There are a few rough thuds of what I can only imagine are people hitting each other, and I cringe, wondering if I’ll be next. Something crashes to my right, and books topple to the floor from one of the bookshelves.

I recover my balance and climb onto the coffee table, moving toward the sound of Layla’s labored breathing. My heart beats a mile a minute.

There is the whine of an old hinge as the door briefly opens and slams shut. A latch slides into place from the outside, and then the room falls into complete silence besides Layla’s wheezing.

“Layla, where are you?” I say, waving my hands in front of me.

“Light. We need light, November,” Layla manages between breaths.

I hear a couple more books fall. “Mierda,” Ines breathes, and I’m pretty sure it’s the first word I’ve ever heard her say.

For a split second I stand there with my heart racing, lost in the darkness. There are no matches. There aren’t even coals to work with. And I’m pretty sure whoever left the room took the torch with them, because I can’t see any embers glowing from where the torch holder should be.

Ines gasps. “Aarya?”

I can hear the fear in her voice, and it brings my awareness into sharp focus. “Paper,” I say with urgency, “the older and drier the better. Bring it over to the fireplace, Ines.”

If I’m not wrong, some of the stones making up the mantel are actually flint, including the one that was loose. And there’s a chance those old pliers are made of steel. I step down from the table and run back to the fireplace faster than is cautious, my hands in front of me.

I collide with the stone and quickly feel around the mantel. “Got you.”

The sound of paper crumpling next to me makes my heart skip a beat.

“Here, find my hand,” I say, reaching out, and Ines does.

I take the crumpled paper, secure it on top of the stone with my thumb, and hit the edge of the stone hard with the old pliers. A few sparks fly. Yes!

“If you could—” I start, but Ines is already blowing on the paper.

I hit the stone a few more times, and by my fourth go one of the sparks catches, creating a tiny burning hole in the paper.

“C’mon, c’mon,” I coax it impatiently while Ines continues to blow gently on the flame. Little by little the burning circle widens until at last we’re rewarded by an actual flame. Ines has rolled up another paper and tips it against the flame, giving us a small but definite torch, and my heart soars. It’s not much light, no brighter than a birthday candle, but hopefully enough to get the general outline of things. As I squint through the gloom, Ines puts the knocked-over chair back on the table and climbs onto it.

“What in the…,” I say in horror. Layla’s legs are wrapped around the candelabra branches in an awkward position and there’s something tied around her wrists, preventing her from using her hands to hold on to anything.

Ines doesn’t say a word to Layla, and to my shock she doesn’t try to help her. Instead, she just grabs two candles and jumps down to the floor, returning to me and lighting the candles with the paper. She gives me one and the room gets instantly brighter. Blackwood and the guards are definitely gone, not that I thought any differently.

I quickly drip some wax onto the mantel and stick the bottom of the candle in it to free up my hands. “Hang on, I’m gonna get you down,” I say to Layla.

“It’s a zip tie,” Layla says, having regained most of her breath. But I can tell she’s struggling. “It’s wrapped around the iron. If I take any weight off my legs, it’s going to cut into my skin more than it already has. And it’s so tight that if we use fire to try to melt it, I’m going to get seriously burned.”

“Layla, the file. Where did you put it?” I say. But before I finish my sentence, I spot the piece of metal on the floor next to the table. I reach for it, but Ines is quicker. Only instead of handing it to me, she walks away.

“Hey, where the hell are you go—” I snap, but abruptly stop.

I follow her line of sight to Aarya, who’s lying on the ground. There’s a metal and leather contraption covering her mouth and nose that’s secured by five metal chains reaching behind her head.

“Holy shit. Can she breathe?” I ask.

Aarya’s eyes are closed.

Ines places a hand on Aarya’s chest and shakes her head in a way that lets me know that whatever she’s observing isn’t good. Blackwood said there’d be serious consequences, but this is extreme. Life-and-death extreme.

I look between Aarya and Layla. If Aarya can’t breathe and I don’t help Ines, I could be partially responsible for suffocating her. But I have no love for Aarya, and if I let Layla get sliced up because of her, I won’t forgive myself. However, fighting Ines for the file will only ensure that everyone loses.

“Layla, how long can you hold on in that position?” I ask.

“Maybe two minutes?” she says, and I can hear the strain in her voice.

“Yell out when you’re reaching your limit,” I say, and crouch down next to Ines and Aarya.

For a split second, Ines looks up at me, surprised.

“Tell me what to do,” I say as she files the last inch of a partially straightened paper clip.

“Unravel the second paper clip and fold it exactly in half,” she says, and I find myself marveling at the sound of her voice, which is surprisingly soothing and self-assured for someone who so rarely uses it. “Bend the last half inch in a ninety-degree angle to form an L shape.”

I start working while she explains.

She holds up her own paper clip. “See how I filed this to be flat instead of round? Do the same with the bent part of yours.”

Ines hands me the file and uses the pliers to bend the flattened end of hers first one way, then the other, creating three little waves in the straight line.

I file away at my paper-clip L for all I’m worth, my fingers clumsy and trembling with nerves. “You okay, Layla?” I call.

“Yeah,” she says, but the strain in her voice has deepened.

Ines turns Aarya over. There’s a padlock on the back of her head, holding the chains together like a medieval torture device.

Ines grabs the lock. I give her the L paper clip I filed and she shoves it into the bottom of the keyhole, sliding the wavy end of hers in on top of it. I take the file and run for Layla, climbing the chair so fast that it wobbles.

Whoever put her up here was taller than me, and I can barely reach her wrists. I squeeze the file between her skin and the plastic and saw at it as fast as I can. The plastic is thick and resistant and I can see the desperation on Layla’s face.

“November?” Layla says. “I can’t—”

A chair hits the table, and within a second, Ines is on it. She positions her shoulder under Layla’s butt and supports her.

Three more seconds of filing and the plastic snaps. Layla grabs the candelabra, and Ines and I move out of the way so she can jump down onto the table.

Layla rubs her wrists, which have cuts on them, but nothing like what she would have had if she’d fallen. “I have no idea how they got me up there so fast. I’ve never fought a guard before. They’re—”

“As agile as giant ballerinas,” Aarya says. She’s sitting up and rubbing her head. “I feel like I got clobbered by an ogre.”

I grab the candle off the mantel and climb back up to the candelabra to light the others.

“You’re pretty banged up, too, Ines,” Aarya says, and in the brighter light I can see that Ines has two bruises forming, one on her hand where she potentially landed a punch and one on her cheek surrounding a scrape that I can only guess is from colliding with the bookshelf in the dark. “In fact, the only person here who doesn’t look like they fought is November. How is it you were magically spared in this challenge? And wasn’t Dr. Conner also there to save you right before Nyx tried to skewer you? Sounds like a big fat conspiracy to me. Maybe you’re not a Bear at all, but a Lion sent to screw with everyone.”

I open my mouth to respond, but the door creaks and we all turn toward it.

Blackwood stands in the doorway. “I see you girls managed to get yourselves in order,” she says flatly, like she left us drinking tea and eating cookies. “You may all return to your rooms now. These gentlemen will escort you back.” She gestures to two of the four guards who attacked us, one of whom is the X guard.

“Gentlemen, that’s one way to describe them,” Aarya says in an Italian accent that drips sarcasm.

Blackwood gives her a hard look. “Perhaps you would prefer to continue with the challenges?”

Aarya doesn’t flinch. In fact, she looks like she’s about to accept Blackwood’s offer.

“Say the word and you and Ines will get your wish,” Blackwood says.

Anger flashes in Aarya’s eyes. She almost imperceptibly glances at Ines and then reluctantly shakes her head. So Aarya does have a weakness. And it’s another person. I have to admit that I’m surprised. I always got the sense she would throw her own mother off a building if the thought occurred to her, so this hint of loyalty is something unexpected.

Layla and I file through the door before Blackwood can change her mind.

The X guard takes up his position behind us, and I can’t get up the stairs fast enough. Layla opens our door, and just as I’m about to follow her through it, I feel warm air graze the back of my neck.

“You’re next,” the X guard whispers, and I whip around, but he’s already walking away down the hall.

I close the door behind me, my hand shaking.

“Did you hear that?” I ask Layla.

She looks at me expectantly.

“That guard just whispered ‘You’re next.’ ”

For a second she just stares at me. Then her mouth drops into a frown. “You’re absolutely positive he spoke to you?” There’s worry in her voice.

“Positive.” I search Layla for answers. “Was that a threat? Did he just threaten me?”

Layla chews on her lip. “He’s the same one who caught you the other night?”

I nod.

“Guards don’t talk to students. Yes, we break lots of rules here, but that’s not one of them. I told you I thought there was something off. Now I’m sure of it,” she says.

“And that exercise Blackwood just had us do, is that a normal—” I start.

“No,” Layla says, shaking her head vigorously. “It was typical as far as the psychology of those challenges goes, but not in its execution. Students have died in the occasional accident or…homicide, but never from being suffocated by the headmaster.” By the way Layla’s looking at me, I can tell she’s as scared as I am. “Having a challenge like this on the heels of two students dying is…well, I don’t know what it is, and that’s what worries me.”

I take my cloak off, but she doesn’t. “Are you going somewhere?”

“Ash’s room,” she says. “He needs to know.”

“You’re going to Ash’s right after the guard said someone’s coming for me? Can I go with you?” I ask.

“No, but I’ll be back soon,” she says, and slips out the door, leaving me all alone.