The Legend of the Eight: The Wicked (Book 2)

24: When We Leave This World

TWENTY-FOUR: WHEN WE LEAVE THIS WORLD
MARCH 30
PHOEBE DOMINGO

PHOEBE DRAGGED HER FEET BACK to her dorm after the memorial was over, leaving scuffs on the marble with the soles of her black flats. Beside her was Drew. They didn't speak. The rest of the Academy was speaking enough for them both.

There were whispers around the Academy halls which speculated how Wil met her demise so suddenly. The same way people whispered after the Incident last fall. But the rumors were just as wild as the truth. They always were. King and Queen Diamond had yet to release an official statement and Phoebe wondered if they even planned to. They would be gone soon enough and eventually, everyone would forget about the fallen princess. She'd be just another portrait on a wall. Another name in a history book.

When they reached Phoebe's room, she stopped outside of it and leaned her head against the door. A quiet whimper escaped her and behind her, Drew covered her body with his. His breath brushed her ear and his arms leaned beside hers, like he was shielding her from whatever cruelty the world still had to throw at them. Between the weight of Drew's body and the door, Phoebe's whimpers turned to cries and she collapsed in his arms.

"Shhh..." he whispered, his lips just inches from hers. "She... It's going to be okay."

She didn't know how much time passed while she cried—only that Drew held her through all of it.

She remembered the first day of the semester, after she and Wil had moved into their dorm together and spent the day reconnecting after so much time apart. She remembered laying in her bed at night, knowing Wil was in hers just feet away.

"I missed you, you know."

"I know."

She remembered how they laughed. How everything felt so normal between them again.

"I'm kidding," Wil had said when she was finished giggling. "I missed you too. Not having you in my life has been weirder than anything else that's happened lately."

Phoebe's heart ached. God, it ached so painfully. Once again, the girls were out of each other's lives but this time, there wouldn't be a surprise reunion or chance to repair a broken friendship. Wil was just gone. 

Phoebe wiped under her nose and then lifted her chin to Drew, looking to him to ease that pain coursing through her body.

"Do you think Mr. Donovan will come back?" she asked him.

He shrugged, his arms still around her. "He's coming back. 'Dunno if he'll stay though. I overheard King Walter on the phone after the funeral. He was talking to Mr. D."

"What did he say? Did he find Chloe?"

Drew stared at the black Nikes he wore with his suit and stiffened like someone who knew something they weren't sharing.

"Drew," Phoebe pressed and he sighed, rubbing under his nose and then balling his hands into fists. He was angry. But not at her. No. He was angry at the world for taking away the person he cared about—oftentimes more than his own self.

"He has her body."

"Chloe's?"

He shook his head and suddenly Phoebe realized.

"Oh. Wil's."

Drew nodded. "He's bringing her home. For a proper burial."