Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Lena
This is not a school luncheon. This is a wedding, a luxury wine showcase, or maybe even the freaking Met Gala.
The manicured lawn is decorated with verdant landscaping and linen-covered banquet tables bearing green-and-gold floral centerpieces that match the institute’s colors.
At the very center of the quad sits a huge fire pit surrounded by strategically placed benches and people mingling.
I sip the smooth chocolaty coffee while I wander through the crowd.
Most of the tables are already claimed. I search for my travel party, debating subjecting myself to more of their good looks and questionable social skills, but I don’t see them.
I wouldn’t be surprised if Teariki got a hold of one of those trays of mini quiches and hunkered down in a corner to have his way with them.
“Are you searching for a place to sit? These are open.”
I turn to see a woman with deep brown skin and dark curly hair with purple highlights gesturing at two open seats at her table.
“Yeah, sure.” I pull out an empty chair and stack my massive pile of papers on the other. “Thanks.”
“I’m Naomi,” the woman says, with a broad smile shining from her expressive face.
“This is Aki”—she nods to a man with high cheekbones, brown almond eyes, and a flop of messy black hair—“and Gemma.” She gestures to a woman with strawberry-blonde hair and freckles.
“And this is my mom, Abby.” To her left is a woman who’s a shorter, older version of her, sans purple hair.
“Hi, it’s nice to meet you all,” I say self-consciously, adjusting my ugly jacket. “I’m Lena.” My name feels heavy on my tongue, weighted with ambiguous expectations and a cryptic reputation.
“We’re first years—are you, too?” Gemma asks in a delicate voice.
“I am,” I confirm. “I get the sense that everyone has been to campus before, but it’s my first time here.” The other tables are filled with groups vigorously socializing with the ease of familiarity.
“Oh yeah, a lot of students have siblings or cousins who went here. Or came for alumni events with their parents,” Naomi informs me. “It’s Aki’s first time here too, though.”
Aki gives me a slight smile before sipping on his mint julep.
“I’m glad I’m not the only one.” I smile. “I’m not taking anyone’s seat, am I?” I gesture to the chair I commandeered for my hefty stack of papers.
“No, it’s just us. Unless we see someone else walking around looking lost,” Naomi jokes.
“Was it that obvious?” I grimace, fiddling with the straw in my cold brew.
“A little.” Naomi gives me a weak smile and then she laughs. “But you’re in good company with the rest of us, whose magica parents have left us up to our own devices!”
I glance at Naomi’s mom, my brow furrowing.
“Oh, I’m just as out of my element as you,” Abby says, then adds shyly, “I’m human.” Something akin to shame flickers over her expression.
Kian alluded to Dmitri’s mom being human. I get the sense that that isn’t common.
Still, Naomi smiles at her mom with pride and adoration. “And you’re the best mom ever for traveling all the way from Dallas and hanging out with us weirdos!”
“I agree!” Gemma joins in. “My dad couldn’t be bothered to be here.”
Damn, glad to see I’m not the only one with daddy issues.
Aki looks around and frowns. “And my parents are using this opportunity to rub elbows in an attempt to network themselves into better positions at work.” He grimaces. “But they’re just coming off kind of crass.”
“It’s okay, Aki. My dad’s being rude by not showing up.” Naomi pats Aki’s arm.
“Naomi!” Abby chides. “Your father passed away almost a decade ago!”
“And so rude of him to up and die.” She shrugs and pops a bacon-wrapped shrimp into her mouth.
I laugh quietly, thankful to have found myself at a table of people with senses of humor. It’s a startling juxtaposition to my car ride from the airport.
“My family is also very rudely deceased,” I comment before taking a long draw of my coffee to a chorus of giggles.
We seamlessly slide into comfortable conversation.
Servers place delectable salads of greens, grilled peaches, and soft cheese in front of us.
Naomi, Gemma, and Aki chat about social events they attended this summer and what extracurriculars they’re joining.
I learn that Aki and Gemma met each other at a summer program called the Young Ambassadors, where a group of students from the four different kingdoms travel around Europe together to “learn to collaborate across kingdoms.” And that Aki and Naomi both attend the same summer solstice party in the English countryside annually.
The servers replace our empty salad plates with a creamy chilled gazpacho, and somehow, I manage to not get any soup on my blouse.
I’m used to navigating social interactions at a surface level, learning about others but never giving much of myself away.
But these three are oddly perceptive and unusually open.
I find myself pulled into conversation by Naomi, and soon, I’m sharing that I came from Portland and Naomi explains that she just graduated from the Transformare college in Oregon.
Using context clues, I deduce that Transformare is one of the four kingdoms. I really am going to need to make myself a glossary.
After we finish our soup, Gemma hijacks my class schedule.
She’s also a member of the Kingdom of Convalescere.
Therefore, we have a few classes together.
And just like that, I go from never sharing my real name with anyone to a table of fellow students knowing something I just learned about myself yesterday: I’m seraphim, of Kingdom Convalescere (even if I’m still working out what that means).
Naomi reads my schedule over Gemma’s shoulder. “Oh cool! We have History of Sidera together tomorrow!” she exclaims with more excitement than anyone should have when talking about a 9:00 am class. “What wing are you in? We can walk over to breakfast and then class together.”
“Oh, um, North Wing?” I recall as I tuck a curl behind my ear and realize just how frizzy it’s gotten from my cross-country travel.
“No way, me too!” She lights up. “What floor? I’m on the fourth.”
“Um…fifth, I think?” I push the last bit of soup around my bowl with my spoon.
“I don’t think there’s a fifth floor.” Aki scrunches his face as the servers change out our plates with a main course of salted cod and root vegetables.
“My placement said room North 5oo-and-something.” I take my first bite of the fish.
“This is incredible! Is the food always this good?” I moan, quickly shoveling another bite into my mouth, in an attempt to move this conversation along.
It’s one thing to socialize casually at a luncheon, but I would rather not have a group of people know my class schedule and where I sleep.
Aki pushes his hair out of his eyes. “I hear it’s like fine dining quality.”
Gemma nods. “My dad said it’s a recent development—that the food’s always been good, but apparently, it’s gotten better since he graduated like seventy-five years ago.”
Seventy-five years. Is that hyperbole? Maybe the caffeine hasn’t soaked into my system yet.
“But for special events, they go all out,” Gemma says.
“The food at the Samhain festival and the winter solstice ball is supposed to be even better,” Naomi informs us in between bites. “King Amani apparently chooses the menus himself!”
Wait, King Amani? As in “I really think you should take our offer, Miss Solis” Kian Amani? As in Mr. Super Hot Macallan 25?
“He does!” Gemma confirms. “Last year, he hosted an event at his home for Beltane. My father took me. I kid you not, the best food I’ve eaten in my whole life!” She sighs wistfully as if recalling every bite.
“Speak of the devil.” Naomi drops her voice into a whisper and tilts her chin in my direction. I glance over my shoulder to find Kian walking toward us.
“Miss—” Kian begins as I give him an irritated look, before he swiftly corrects himself, “Lena, can I have a word?”
“Of course.” I quickly collect my unwieldy menagerie of papers. Naomi’s eyes have gone wide, Aki suddenly has become super immersed in his root vegetables, and Gemma has turned the brightest shade of cherry.
“See you…um…for breakfast?” Naomi stumbles over her words. “We can meet in the dorm’s courtyard.”
Aki tries to choke down a cough in a struggle to swallow a bite of food.
“Er…yeah…of course,” I confirm, confused at both my willingness to accept the invitation and why this eloquent and cheery table has transformed into a stuttering, drooling mess.
I follow Kian over to a space on the lawn, away from the crowd, where an equally gorgeous man is waiting.
Like Kian, he’s tall and muscular, but slightly leaner.
His black curly hair appears untamed yet falls in eloquent swoops over his forehead.
His deep brown eyes and groomed stubble stand out, contrasted with the fair skin of his strong jawline and high cheekbones.
Like a sinister Baroque painting, his beauty is that of polarity and opposition. He’s tension, chiaroscuro, tenebrism.
He’s wearing a well-tailored black suit, and as he shifts, I catch a glimpse of tattoos sticking out just above his collar.
Even though his sharp eyes are lit with intelligence, his expression is bored, almost despondent.
Standing together, Kian and this man look like they stepped out of some horny nerd’s Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Suits crossover fan fiction. It’s me, I’m the horny nerd.
The stranger flashes a cocky smile at Kian; the moment he sees me, his face falls into a biting scowl.
“This is Dr. Nikolai Komarov,” Kian introduces us. “He’s to be your faculty advisor.”