The lecture hall looked too beautiful to belong to Saint Ivy.
That should've been my first warning.
Everything at this school that looked beautiful eventually tried to eat you.
Tall stained-glass windows stretched from floor to ceiling, spilling ribbons of blue and crimson across polished oak floors. Ancient portraits watched from the walls with the sort of judgment only dead rich people seemed capable of. The room smelled like old books, polished wood, expensive perfume... and secrets. Saint Ivy always smelled like secrets.
The black ring sat heavy against my finger.
I'd tried taking it off again that morning.
It hadn't worked.
I left it inside my desk drawer before breakfast, locked the drawer, pocketed the key, and walked away feeling strangely victorious.
When I reached my firs
