Then I collapse. My vision blurs, and the last thing I remember is the sight of ravens swarming overhead.

Chapter Forty-Three

Anora and a New Set of Rules

It’s been two days since the mausoleum.

I pace the room even though my body resists. I’m not fully recovered. I’m sluggish, and most movement causes extreme nausea…or maybe the nausea comes from the anxiety boiling in the pit of my stomach at the thought of facing the Order. Maybe it’s the anticipation of returning home to Mom, not knowing how to explain any of this to her and knowing I probably won’t ever be able to anyways.

My stomach roils. It’s Sunday, which means Mom still thinks I’m at Temple. Thank God for small miracles. Still, I’m desperate to see her, because though Bastian and Mr. Val have assured me she is safe, I won’t believe it until I see her with my own eyes.

I turn my thoughts to the present moment and the task at hand. The elite of the Order are assembling in the Council chamber as we speak—every single member, no holograms this time. They’re here to interview me, Shy, and Natalie about the events of Friday night.

I’m not sure what more they think to discover through another interrogation. Once I’d woken up late Saturday morning, I’d been questioned by Elite Cain for hours. I have no more answers left in me, nothing more to say. Thane killed the Valryn who attacked me at the vigil and kidnapped me. He was possessed by Influence and tried to kill me, so I killed him. He worked with Lennon, who also tried to kill me and can apparently control occulates. She is half Valryn. She has some crazy powers. I told them, “You better watch your back, because I’m pretty sure there are more like her.”

They didn’t like that, and they’d demanded more information about what she was capable of.

I smiled and said, “Ask Lennon.”

She is still alive, imprisoned like her father.

“You should rest,” Shy says. He’s sitting on the marble bench a few feet away in his human form, arm in a sling, blond hair a mess. His bright blue eyes practically smolder. He’s been staring at me differently since Friday night, like if he doesn’t pin me with an incredibly unnerving gaze, I might disappear, and I guess he has a lot of reasons to believe that.

“I’m fine,” I snap.

He lifts his head a little, expression unreadable. I don’t know what he thinks of me. We haven’t talked since Friday when I defended Lennon and said I didn’t trust him. Standing in the aftermath of what happened that night, I know I’m wrong, and I owe him and Natalie an apology—so many apologies.