Page 35 of Divine Oaths

“You’re excused,” the professor said. “Next time, don’t arrive late to my class.”

But I didn’t move. I was frozen, my breath caught, my muscles locked in place. Classes had barely begun. And here Alaster was, trapping me already.

“Do you want me to come with you?” Luke whispered.

I shot him a weak smile. “No. It’s okay. I’ll be fine.”

My hands couldn’t stop shaking as I grabbed my things and awkwardly maneuvered myself to the front exit of the room.

“Sianna,” Alaster said, smiling when I approached the door. “I’ve spoken to Provost Henning, just like you asked.”

I forced a smile, first at him, then to the provost. “Thank you. I appreciate that.”

Provost Henning was a grim-faced woman with cool gray eyes and silver hair that she’d pulled into a tight bun. She was dressed in a blouse whose navy coloring mirrored the university colors. Rectangular-shaped glasses sat along the thin bridge of her nose, and in her hands, she held a black notebook and a pen.

“We missed you during orientation, Miss Adu.”

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t feeling well.” The lie came easy now. After repeating them enough, they always did.

Alaster closed the door behind us and Provost Henning immediately started leading us through the hallway.

“I’m aware of that. Along with his duties as the head of the History Department at Westfield, Professor Saint James directly works with student representatives across disciplines and departments. He keeps the school informed on how each incoming class is adjusting to Westfield.”

“It allows me to really know everyone on campus,” Alaster said, smiling at me. “Like Sarah—do you know Sarah? She’s a Hearst. Her family owns a few of the big national tabloids. She said she was in the boat coming into Westfield with you.”

I frowned. With everything that had happened, I had barely thought of our fan boat arrival.

“I didn’t talk to anyone on the boat besides Honey.”

“Which neither Sarah, nor your fellow classmates, appreciated. And you interrupting orientation events for Ivy House and Rose House didn’t go unnoticed. You may think you’re famous, Miss Adu, but there’s a balance here at Westfield, one that all the Ivies, Roses, and even Poppies ascribe to. Look what happened to poor Nathan, rest his soul. He was supposed to be your resident assistant this year. Did you know that? And now he’s gone. All because he strayed a little too far from where he should have been.” Alaster shook his head, a grim light cast in his gaze. “It makes me wonder,” he continued, “if someone had done more to remind him of his place, maybe he’d be with us.”

My blood ran cold.

“I’m not sure I understand your meaning,” I said. But I understood him completely.

Someone, one of the girls in the fan boat, was upset that I’d befriended Honey, whose parents were on the board of trustees, and had behaved outside of how a Poppy should, by crashing Ivy and Rose’s orientation celebration. They were using Alaster to remind me of my place. Alaster was feeding into it, not because he cared about university gossip and cliques, but because he thought he could use this to further his own aims.

“When Sarah shared her concerns with me, she mentioned something about a juvenile record. Yours, actually. But it does make me worry. Are you not attending Westfield for the right reasons? Is the safety of our campus at risk if these disruptions continue? These are all things I have to consider in my position. It’s not personal to you or Kasem, but if new students like Sarah are bringing such things to my attention, then I have to do my due diligence. I hope you can understand.”

Every step we took wove us deeper into the heart of Westfield. Alaster and Provost Henning led me to an elevator, which we rode down to the basement floor where the architecture students and all the wood and welding shops were.

Provost Henning led the way, and Alaster trailed behind with me, keeping enough distance so the provost couldn’t hear his threats. Even though the air was cold here, sweat dotted my brow and made my hands clammy and stiff.

“I could help you and Sarah reconcile, if you want,” Alaster continued. “For a favor, of course. Reputation is gold at Westfield. I’d hate for yours to get tarnished before you’ve even found your people here or applied for an internship. You know, I write strong recommendation letters and I’m close to most of my colleagues in the Music Department. They have expansive networks, especially in leading DC and New York companies. All of the students they refer have gotten prominent roles after a good word from us.”

I swallowed. “Is this blackmail?”

“No, hardly,” Alaster said. “But if you prefer to call it something, how about ‘an exchange’?”

Of course. One reputation for another. Kasem’s standing at Westfield in exchange for the little chance I had of assimilating into its world.

“I’m just worried about your well-being. Sarah mentioned you’re the overly sympathetic sort, which of course is charming and well-meaning. But I’d hate for you to go in there and defend one of my cousins without knowing fully what he’s capable of.”

“Thank you for your concern,” I said. “It’s been noted.”

At some point, we took a tunnel that connected the buildings. We navigated turn after turn, stairwell after stairwell, and door after door until, incredibly, we were back in the main building. The walls towered high above us, and the crystal chandeliers glittered brightly against the sunlight spilling into the main hall. On orientation day, I’d passed these same hallways before ending up in the courtyard.

Provost Henning opened a door to a room where a receptionist sat behind a computer and was surrounded by shelves. It was odd to see modern technology in such an old building. Westfield had a way of making time seem almost meaningless, like the past and the present and the future were one entity.