Page 67 of Coveted

Strange and nice.

He steps aside, allowing us to enter.

“Whoa,” says Juliette. “This is cool.”

The stone ceiling is low, yet the room is vast. So vast I can’t see the edges.

Candles in brackets are the only illumination, and shadows fill most of the spaces. A dark-wood banquet table with identical place settings stretches before us.

Some people are already seated, while others congregate in groups. All wear animal masks of black, gold, and crimson. The Darkbloom colors.

“The boxes behind the chairs are numbered,” says Clara, holding up our pouch of keys. “I think that’s what these are for.”

I take a key from her and find the empty chair matching my number. Unlocking the small wooden box reveals an ornate mask. Tonight, I’m a deer.

Holding it over my eyes, I tie the ribbons behind my head. The mask covers only the top half of my face.

Taking my seat, I adjust to the freedom of near-anonymity. With my eyes obscured by shadows, I scan the other guests.

Am I recognizable like this? Would the killer know me?

Then my heart thumps like a drum, because I spot someone uncomfortably familiar.

CHAPTER 16

Sadie

Lucan Hale is impossible to miss, even though he wears a mask.

I feel his gaze on my skin like a brand. His cold blue eyes observe me from where he sits further down the table. His mask is the face of a black stag.

The eager freshman next to him tries to engage him in conversation, but he ignores her. Without breaking his glare from me, he drinks red wine from a crystal goblet. His nostrils twitch like he’s irritated with me.

Is he angry that I accepted a mystery invitation in the middle of the night? Does he think I’ve put myself in danger?

If so, he can go to hell.

I want to have a life, because I existed for so long without one. What harm can come to me down here, surrounded by friends and classmates?

Another caped man wearing a boar’s mask presides over the gathering. “Welcome to the Founder’s Table. To break bread together honors our forebears, and to drink wine strengthens bond and blood. Now we shall begin the Founder’s Feast.”

Lucan finally looks away from me. I’m still hyperaware of his presence though, as if he’s thinking about me and I can feel it on an energetic level.

After gulping the smoky, spicy wine, I join in the feasting.

The food is rich and old-world. Roasted meats, slabs of butter, plump figs, and crusty bread. As I’m swallowing a mouthful, the student to my left scribbles on a piece of paper. Then he folds the paper and pushes it through a slot in a wooden box on the table.

Noticing me, he pats the box and explains. “Confessional. Each guest at the table must make a confession. Once everyone’s had a turn, we pass the box around and randomly select one to read.”

“Out loud?” I ask, cringing at the thought.

“Not usually.” He passes the box to me. “Most people keep it to themselves.”

I take the pen and little stack of paper, chewing a fig while I think.

What can I write that I don’t mind people at this table knowing?

As long as I keep my confession vague, no one will trace it back to me.