EXILE | TOM RIDDLE

24. Snake in the Grass (II)

"I knew you'd be back," is the first thing I hear as I stumble over the mountains of bones, listening to them crunch under my feet and cringing at the sound.

"Salazar," I cannot help the grin that slides across my face, as I rush over to him and wrap my arms around his middle in a tight embrace. His hands find their place atop my back, holding me against him as his chest rises and falls with deep breaths. "I have missed you."

"And I you, Little Bird," he releases me, moving to tuck my hair out of my face. "It has been months. Where have you been? What have you been up to?"

I turn to look at Tom, who is frowning from where he hovers behind me. "We've been busy," he answers for me.

It is Salazar's turn to frown, as he glances down to the ring my finger adorns. "Is this not yours, Riddle?"

"It is," he nods. "But it belongs to her now."

"You'd trust her with such an object?"

I open my mouth to question why he would ask such a thing, but Tom speaks before I can. "She has yet to break my trust. Besides, I have...information on here as well. It is mutually beneficial that we keep each other's secrets."

Salazar cocks an eyebrow. "What information could you possibly have on her?"

"Other than her identity as Rebekah Ravenclaw, you mean?" Tom glances between the two of us, expression unreadable. "Rebekah, you don't mind if I tell your...friend what occurred over the summer, do you?"

"Well—"

"Perfect," he smirks as he cuts me off. "Rebekah here nearly killed someone. A muggle friend of hers."

"A muggle?" Salazar presses his lips together, evidentially more troubled that I deigned spend time with a muggle, as opposed to the near murder I committed. "What did I tell you about staying away from those people, Little Bird?"

"He was kind to me," I attempt to protest, but Tom barks a laugh.

"Kind? Sure, maybe he was, up until he tried to rape you."

I remain silent, my neck suddenly aching at the reminder of Dorian, of hands on me.

Salazar's jaw clenches as he inhales a sharp breath. "What did you do, then? What happened to him?"

"I buried him alive," Tom admits proudly, as though it is a noble deed he had committed. Perhaps it is, I suppose. Perhaps Dorian got what was coming to him, and I owe it to Tom that he met his demise in the way he did.

His lips twist into a smirk. "Brilliant. He suffered."

"Not all muggles are like him," I try to explain, but my small voice falls upon deaf ears.

"We needn't waste any more time with idle chatter," Tom waves a dismissive hand. "Salazar, I want to know what you know about Rowena's lost diadem. What sort of powers does it possess?"

Salazar's expression contorts. "You ought to stay away from that, Tom. It is dangerous."

If this is meant to persuade him away from it, it seems to do the opposite, as something flickers in his eyes. "Dangerous, how?"

"It brings about horrible luck to whoever inhabits it — besides Rowena herself, of course. It is said she put a curse on it, that if anyone took it without her consent, it would bring about something horrible."

"I don't believe in superstition," Tom tuts. "Besides, I haven't anything I care about to lose."

"Not even Rebekah?"

Something in my stomach shifts. Anxiety, but not quite. Perhaps something worse, something telling me I do not want to know the answer to Salazar's question, that it will only hurt me.