I SIT ON one of the cold moss-covered benches in the garden courtyard. Overhead the oak branches are strung with strands of royal-purple profusion berries, and in the fading light of day they glow like they’re lit from within. The last of the blue, purple, and white flowers peek through the grass in intricate patterns around my feet. I look up at the canopy of tall trees, where the flurries from this morning have already melted. When I first got here, Layla explained that a hot spring runs under the school, allowing us to enjoy the flowers nearly all year round, and while it is a bit warmer on the ground than in the trees, I’m still convinced that the head horticulturist here must be something of a genius. I twirl a piece of fresh grass between my fingers, the fast motion mirroring the wound-up tension in my body.
A small group of elemental-level students are clustered at the other side of the courtyard, speaking in hushed voices. It’s impossible to know what Families they belong to, since the students come from all over the world and speak multiple languages. But they clearly know who I am, because every once in a while they glance in my direction and lean toward one another, as though to further conceal their words.
There is movement near the arched vine doorway leading into the adjacent courtyard, and I hear cloaks being taken off hooks on the other side of the vine wall, signaling that strategic sparring has just ended. Strategic sparring, knife throwing, mind games—a month ago I would have laughed at the idea that such a curriculum even existed.
Aarya and Felix are the first to come through the vine doorway, and I get up from the bench. Aarya’s eyes light up and she brushes back a piece of wavy hair that has fallen out of her loose ponytail.
“Well, if it isn’t my favorite circus act at Phantom High,” she says loudly enough that the elemental students turn in our direction. She switches from a British accent to an American one, both of them impeccable. In fact I don’t think there’s an accent that she hasn’t mastered, making it impossible to know anything about her upbringing, other than that she’s a Jackal and a force to be reckoned with. “After you graduate, well…if you live to graduate, you should take your show on the road. I would pay good money to watch stunts like the one you pulled with Nyx.”
I exhale audibly. In a normal world, the fact that she helped me escape from Conner would mean that we’re now friends, but this is Aarya. “Anything else you want to shout in front of everyone, or did you get enough attention for the day?” I reply.
Just as I’m finishing my sentence, Brendan enters the courtyard and sees me talking to Aarya. We make eye contact and his gaze is openly threatening, like he’s broadcasting the fact that he’s not done trying to kill me. The sickest part is that he’s my cousin, and even though I didn’t know that until a couple of days ago, he knew all along—and it didn’t faze him in the least.
“Cranky, cranky,” Aarya says as she follows my line of sight. “Looks like…what’s the American saying? Ah yes. It looks like ‘someone bit off more than they could chew’ this morning.”
Felix doesn’t leave Aarya’s side, but his shoulders are turned away from me and his arms are crossed, like he’s guarding himself from having to interact with me or maybe he just doesn’t want anything to do with this conversation.
I look away from Aarya as Matteo exits strategic sparring and heads for the door leading inside.
Aarya’s eyes twinkle, like she’s found something interesting. “Unless maaaybe you’re not scared about the consequences of pissing off Nyx and Brendan because, oh, I don’t know”—she inspects her nails—“you’re leaving us soon?”
“What?” I nearly choke on the word and shift my attention back to her, trying to keep the shock out of my voice. “As much as I’d love to stick around and listen to your crap, I’ve got to go.” Given Aarya’s victorious look, it’s too late; she already knows the truth. So instead of continuing this disastrous conversation, I follow Matteo.
Aarya growls and slashes her fingers at me like she’s a big cat.
There were three things I was supposed to do today—act like everything was normal, not let people know I was leaving, and talk to Matteo. I haven’t even finished my classes for the day, and I’ve already managed to screw two of them up.
I follow Matteo through the heavy wooden door leading into the foyer. Ancient shields adorn the walls; Layla once told me they are symbols of Strategia’s roots throughout world history, but to me they’re a reminder that I don’t know my own Family history the way I should.
“I can go? You’re letting me go?” I say more to myself than to Blackwood.
Blackwood hesitates. “Technically, you can go. However, I must advise you that you still have a great deal to learn and your skills are severely lacking in several areas. But more importantly, you know very little about the Strategia world at large.”
“Maybe so, but there’s no way I can stay here while my dad’s out there all alone. Especially knowing what I now know,” I say. “What happened here with Dr. Conner seems to be just a microcosm of what’s happening out there.”
“This school doesn’t involve itself in outside politics,” Blackwood says, even though we both know that the situation between her and Conner was completely political. “I’ll just say again that it would be prudent if you made additional alliances here and learned as much as you can before you leave.”
I speed up and fall in step with Matteo’s long strides. “Hey, can I talk to you for a minute?” I say, careful to keep my voice low. With the high arched ceilings, sound is amplified in this room.
His broad shoulders tense. “I’d rather not,” he says. He doesn’t bother turning to face me.
“Look, I know you blame me for Stefano’s—” I start as we enter the hallway to the boys’ dorm.
Now he does look at me, or rather down at me, with frustrated brown eyes that remind me of my aunt Jo’s. He’s a good six inches taller than me. “You’re damn right I do. And maybe it wasn’t directly your fault that he was murdered. But the fact remains that my best friend from the time I could talk is dead because you came to this school.”
His words stop me in my tracks. I rub my forehead near my eyebrow—a gesture Ash once told me signifies shame, which I suppose is pretty accurate in this moment. “I can’t imagine what it would be like if someone killed my best friend,” I say, and my voice is gentler. Just the thought of anyone hurting my feisty Emily makes me want to cry. “I’d be hateful till the end of time.”
“Yeah, well…,” he says in front of his dorm room door.
I stare at him, unsure where to go from here. I can’t very well say “Sad about your friend, but I need something, so can we talk about that now?”
“Sorry I bothered you,” I say instead. “And I’m sorry about Stefano. Really.” My mind spins, trying to come up with something, anything that will make him listen to me, because in three more seconds he’s going to disappear into his room and my chance will be gone. “I just came to say goodbye.”
Matteo closes his eyes momentarily, like my presence is exhausting. “I’m not in the mood to play games with you.”
“No game,” I say, and I scan the hall to make sure we’re alone. I pause, hoping this gamble doesn’t backfire. “I’m leaving the Academy tomorrow.”
He exhales and breaks eye contact, looking up at the wall. After three seconds and some head-shaking, he bangs the latch on his door with the side of his fist. The door swings open.
“Well, are you coming in?” he says, clearly displeased.
I don’t hesitate. I slip through the doorway and into his common room, where the blackout curtains are already drawn and the fireplace is lit for the evening.
“Speak quickly,” he says like he can’t get rid of me fast enough.
I move my loose braid over my shoulder and straighten my posture, working up some courage. Ever since he told me he was my cousin, I haven’t been able to unsee the resemblance. The last thing I ever thought I would find in this school was family. And now I have two cousins—Matteo and Brendan—one who hates me and the other who wants me dead.
I run through a few approaches in my head, but everything I want to say sounds awkward. So instead of asking him flat-out for help, I simply say, “I’m going to find my dad.”
Matteo huffs. “You’re here to talk to me about your Lion father? I really don’t care what happens to him.”
I take a step forward, frustration sparking in my chest at the suggestion that my dad is anything other than wonderful. “If you would listen for more than ten seconds you would see why you do care. And I’m sick of these Family lines. You’re a Bear. He’s a Lion. Who cares? Some people are terrible and some people aren’t. My dad is one of the good ones. End of story.”
Matteo’s fist clenches, and I start talking again before he decides to kick me out.
I take a breath, calming my voice. “After my aunt Jo died—scratch that, after our aunt Jo died—my dad sent me here. And as far as I can tell, he went to Europe to do something about it.”
“What do you mean by ‘do something about it’? What kind of something?” Matteo says, and I can tell by his insistent tone that this question matters.
“That’s exactly what I intend to find out,” I say, matching the gravity in Matteo’s voice. “I don’t know Family politics the way you do, but I know enough to say that Jag is—”
“Jag is your father’s father, your grandfather,” he says judgmentally.
“Do we share some of the same genes? Yes,” I say, my defensiveness ratcheting up a notch. “But don’t you dare suggest I’m anything like him or the Lions. He killed my mom, and our aunt. The Lions are hunting my dad. They’re trying to kill me. And as far as I can tell, they would be happy to take out Layla, Ines, and the rest of the talented students at this school, making all of Strategia bow to their will. Meanwhile everything I’ve been doing at this school has been aimed at stopping them.”
He grunts. “Everything you’ve done here has been to save your own butt.”
For a second, I’m silent. He’s not right, but he’s also not wrong.
“So your plan is to what? To challenge the Lions by yourself? Or maybe you and your traitor father will team up,” he says flippantly, “if they haven’t killed him already, that is.”
“Geez, Matteo,” I say, taken aback. “Can you be any more of an ass? You expect me to understand how deeply your friend’s death has affected you, but you can’t sympathize with the fact that I’m scared for my dad?” I shake my head at him disapprovingly. “At least he’s doing something. At least I am. What are you doing?”
Matteo’s face falls and he rubs his hand over his forehead. He takes a few steps away from me. “You’re right,” he says, and his voice loses its edge. “That was uncalled for.”
I watch him. Underneath his temper and his grief, I catch a glimpse of someone decent. And for a few seconds we stand there awkwardly, neither of us sure how to proceed in the absence of our usual ire.
“Where are you going in Europe?” he finally asks.
“I’m starting in the UK,” I say.
He nods like he assumed as much. “Who else knows you’re leaving?”
“Ash, Layla, and Blackwood,” I say.
He watches me with a searching expression. “And Ash is going with you,” he says, and I look at him sideways.
Did the way I said Ash’s name give that away or was it something in my body language? “He is,” I say reluctantly, and as the words leave my mouth, I’m surprised at how easily I’m telling him things. I have no reason to trust Matteo, do I?
“And I’m assuming you’re here because you want my help,” Matteo continues.
I exhale, relieved by the opening he just gave me. “Yes. Please. Whatever you’re willing to tell me,” I say. “If I’m going to be in Lion territory, I’ll need all the help I can get. And even if you hate me, surely you must hate the Lions more?”
Matteo presses his lips together and looks around the room, like there might be an answer there somewhere. He’s silent for a few seconds and then nods like he’s come to a decision. “If I agree to help you, there’s a condition.”
“What kind of a condition?” I say slowly.
Matteo’s expression is serious. “You must agree that this information will be used by you and you alone. I need your word. I have absolutely no interest in telling Ash my Family secrets.”
I hesitate. I hate the idea of keeping things from Ash, but I can’t discredit Matteo’s need to protect Family secrets. And in truth, I’m flattered that he’s considering trusting me with them.
“Agreed,” I say.
Matteo takes a good look at me, reading me again, and when he seems satisfied that I’m telling the truth, he continues. “There’s a Bear Family apothecary in London. Her shop is called Arcane Minded; the front is an antiques store. If you need supplies to use against the Lions, you can go to her. Tell her Aut cum scuto aut in scuto.”
“Aut cum scuto aut in scuto,” I say, repeating the Latin phrase.
“Either with shield or on shield,” Matteo says before I have a chance to work out the meaning. “It roughly means ‘Don’t surrender; never give up.’ It will let her know that you’re battling the Lions and you need her assistance.”
Secret phrases in secret shops with secret apothecaries. A month ago I would have rolled my eyes and made a comment about how I didn’t think apothecaries existed in anything except old stories, but my entire world has shifted since I came here.
“Will it matter that she’s never met me before?” I ask.
“Well, that’s the thing, you do look like our immediate family. She may just assume you’re a second or third cousin she’s never met. But”—Matteo pauses—“if she realizes who you really are, you may have a problem.”
I remember my talk with Ash last night and his warning that some European Strategia might recognize me. “Do the Bears hate me, too?”
He looks thoughtful for a moment. “My mom might accept you. She loved her sisters a great deal. But our grandfather is head of the Family and I’m not sure he’ll want anything to do with you. I can’t tell you what to expect out there. You might have Bear support. You might not.”