Page 46 of The Villains of Winter

“Valeria volunteered herself to kill the sophomore. That would’ve been better than…this inhumanity.” To console him, Perseus fitted James’s arms through the sleeves, and he patted his back. “Valeria would’ve had pity on Archway, she thought of a few methods that were swift and painless. I know what he meant to you, but it’s best when the orphans die instead.”

Silence consumed the burnt atmosphere. James tilted his head at him with a wild, vacant expression. “What?”

Perseus squeezed his shoulder blade. “Listen, it will hurt now, but the orphan will be better for it. The town won’t have to pay for his lodging and meals any longer. No one wants to live as a burden. He would’ve thanked us later on.”

“Elliott wasn’t on welfare.”

Perseus tipped a brow. “He was an art student. He would’ve been a starving artist.”

“Elliott’s father had money. His pension went to Elliott.”

“Except Elliott couldn’t inherit it until he was twenty-five. Besides, his father was from Boston, wasn’t he? How much money could that fireman’s pension have been worth, a second-hand pick-up truck?”

Elliott felt the air leave his chest.

James asked Perseus, “You think it’s better for the orphans to die?” He stopped in the snow tracks. “That’s why Elliott was chosen by all of you?”

Perseus nodded. “There are fewer familial members to mourn them. Even Finch Hudskin had parents to grieve him. It’s only fair, James. Besides, I’m marrying Lucy Upton on New Year’s. Sofía Álvarez was one of the seven victims caught trying to escape the campus. Imagine if her hallmate had been chosen, it would dampen the entire nuptials.”

Callum assured him, “It would’ve never been you, James. Your father would’ve sued us to hell and back. His political reach is powerful enough to bankrupt even our lawyers.”

Perseus smirked with pride. “Not to mention, you absolutely stole the entire recitation as Apollo. Why didn’t you tell us there was a new play this year?”

Elliott kept still as Callum separated the berry bushes near the nape of his neck. His heart rate was fleetly paced. Soundlessly, Elliott went beneath the coarse water to hide himself, the ice attacking his eyes, pain spreading through his veins. He heard the gargled voices above. “Where are your clothes, James?”

“My clothes were taken while my back was turned.”

“You went swimming in this weather?”

“I was swimming to get my mind off of the sacrifice.”

“Did you see Lucien? Here, keep my coat.”

“Yes, he left the same way you approached. How suspicious that my clothes are mysteriously missing after he left and you arrived…”

All of their words sounded underwater, even though Elliott was the only one beneath the glacial water, bereft without oxygen. All too suddenly, the commotions began.

“–James, put the axe down.”

“Enough of the bullshit. You two didn’t come out of nowhere. Where are my clothes?”

“James, for shit’s sake, we don’t have your clothes–”

“We were out here looking for Lucien. We’re not here to tamper with anything, I swear.”

“Hand over your clothes; I might believe you then.”

“No way in hell. What will we wear?”

“James, we didn’t steal your clothes–”

“Someone stole it.”

“Lucien obviously stole your clothes for his petty revenge. He’s unhinged. He just burned someone alive. He’s on a rampage. We have nothing to do with it.”

Dying for oxygen, Elliott’s lungs ached with agony, as if sharp barbs had pricked into his organs. He was rapidly losing air. His lungs were bloated, swollen with the dwindling oxygen. He needed to breathe.

However, if he resurfaced his body, he’d be seen near the bushes.