83. Lily
LILY
“Come on, Perkins, dance with me.”
Lily tore her eyes off the far doorway and looked up at Tori.
“I can’t watch another minute of whatever this is.” She dragged Lily toward the center of the floor, placing her hand on Lily’s upper arm. “You’re the dancer, you lead.”
Lily obliged, moving mechanically through the box step. “Can I ask you something? You don’t have to answer.”
“You can ask me a thousand things.”
“So, you’re out as gay—”
“Queer,” Tori corrected.
“Queer. But not as trans. And Seb isn’t out at all.”
“Was that a question?”
“I guess I just want to understand better. Clearly there’s a lot I’m missing and…”
Tori limboed under Lily’s arm as she twirled her.
“How about I do the spinning.” She spun Lily fiercely before she could object and caught her in a dramatic dip.
“There’s actually a pretty rich sapphic tradition in our community.
It’s never really been frowned on the way male relationships have been.
Women can bear children, whether they want to or not, but a man needs an heir.
A lot of those “bosom companions” of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries were quite literally that.
Married with a very special female friend on the side. ”
Lily spoke through gritted teeth. “Why is it the more I learn, the less I want to know?”
“Things will get better; things are getting better.”
“How do you know?” She frowned as her grandparents meandered across the hall and out the same door she’d been watching.
“Because of people like us. Just look at Sebastian—the more people step into the light, the more the cracks widen, the more people can get through.”
A wave of sorrow, potent as nausea, swept through her. “I wish I could be around to see it.”
“You are seeing it. Sebastian would have never done this without you.” She caught Lily’s gaze and held it tightly. “Anyway, it’s tolerance, not acceptance. Women matter less, so it’s easier to be lenient. Sebastian is supposed to have biological children, ergo—”
“What the hell is Chant doing over there?” Lily jerked her chin toward the shadowed hallway where everyone interesting—except for Hawleyhurst, who seemed very close with a Dunmoody competitor—seemed to have disappeared.
Her alchemy professor stood almost completely obscured by a heavy drape, casting, then he slid quietly back into the hall.
His expression was tight, just this side of frantic.
“No idea.” Tori turned her, and Lily caught sight of someone else watching Chant’s nearly imperceptible distress: Adriana Mérida.
With keen eyes fixed on Chant, she absently reached forward and picked up a dessert from the Vadoria table.
When Lily caught sight of her again after another rotation, her gleaming terracotta skin had deepened to mauve, and she was clutching at her throat.
As she ran toward Adriana, Lily shouted for help. Chant followed her gaze, then sprinted back out of the hall.
Somehow, even though she was on heels, even though there were dozens of people closer, Lily got to Adriana first. She caught the other girl just as she slipped backward off her chair, both of them stumbling to the ground in a tangle of multicolored silk.
Adriana’s head landed in her lap, and Lily cast instinctively: an inelegant cantrip that showed her what was killing Adriana.
Anaphylaxis.
She snapped her head up, desperately searching, and found Rafael’s face.
It was easy; he was the only person near her.
A melee of students formed a wide ring around them.
She’d gotten so used to being accepted by a handful of individuals that she’d forgotten her curse aura.
That, and Adriana’s brown skin and Vadoria background, made it easy for people to hang back.
“Does she have any allergies?”
He nodded, his face slick with sweat, his eyes wild. “Walnuts.”
“Does she have an EpiPen?”
“Qué?”
Lily mimed stabbing herself in the leg. Rafael got it instantly. His face crumpled into guilt as he shook his head.
“She didn’t bring it. We put it on the meal card, double-checked.”
Fuck.
She did the math. A healing spell was out of the question. Healing spells gave as good as they got, and she didn’t know anything strong enough to reopen someone’s airways. She could use her mother’s magic, but there were at least forty people watching her with laser focus.
But Adriana was dying in her arms. She’d fallen unconscious and her face swelled deep purple. When it came down to it, it wasn’t much of a choice at all.
Lily closed her eyes, summoning her Words, calling up the magic that had circled her wrists her whole life.
That was the thing about this magic: it responded solely to Lily—her instinct, her will.
Lily commanded Adriana to live, damn it, pushing her hands into the other girl’s chest, and she felt the power flood beneath her ribs and into her lungs.
Adriana jerked into consciousness with a dragging gasp, her eyes flying open as the color fled her face, hands flying once more to her throat. Lily exhaled, letting her eyes drift closed, and slumped against a table leg.
Rafael dove for his sister, clutching her, speaking to her in rapid Spanish.
He grabbed Lily’s hand, wringing it nearly white as he thanked her over and over.
She nodded dumbly, her gaze pulled across the hall, where her grandfather stood, taking it all in, eyes narrow as a viper’s.
Seb, red-faced and disheveled, stood at his shoulder.
Before Lily could catch his eye, he tapped Hawthorn on his shoulder and said something into his ear.
Her grandfather nodded curtly, his eyes never leaving Lily, and beckoned Seb away. Lily stared after them, wondering what the hell she was missing.