Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
Lena
I’m standing, scratching my head, staring at Teariki’s back as he quickly disappears.
For someone who was so concerned about me wandering the woods alone in an outfit that basically spotlights the words “Dinner is served,” he couldn’t get out of here fast enough.
I kind of thought we were having, like, a moment or whatever.
I turn back to the dorm and fish out my phone as it vibrates in my pocket.
Kian: What are you doing out of your room after curfew?
Lena: Stalker
Kian: Back in your room.
Kian: Stop sneaking around.
Lena: I’m not sneaking. How do you know I’m not in my room? Plus I could be coming from Independent Study
I mean, I’m not. Komarov canceled our meeting and told me to spend my time reading instead. But what Kian doesn’t know can’t hurt me. My phone buzzes again.
Kian: That’s highly doubtful.
Lena: You don’t know my life!
Kian: I know more than you think.
And I’m busted; he’s sent a selfie, and next to him is Komarov sitting in front of a fancy as fuck fireplace, holding an old-fashioned. Damnit. Teariki did say he was at his prince pals’ meeting. I keep forgetting that includes my hard-ass professor.
Lena: You caught me. But I was chaperoned
Kian: Room, now.
Lena: Your use of texting punctuation feels oddly threatening
Who puts periods at the end of each text?
Couldn’t he at least use a nonthreatening emoji or something?
I shake my head and shove my phone back in my shorts and start my multistory hike.
I still can’t get the freaking elevator to work.
I’ve sent a bunch of emails to maintenance. They all go unanswered.
It’s weird that Kian’s texting me about my curfew, right?
Like, shouldn’t he be doing kingly things?
If he has time to stalk like he’s auditioning to replace Penn Badgley in a reboot of You, he should be able to help hunt down my stuff from Portland.
I texted Petra about getting my bags this morning, and she said that it wasn’t her top priority.
Maybe I will tell her it’s a matter of safety since I can’t be trouncing about the forest in reflective athletic wear.
By the time I get back to my room, I’m huffing and puffing like I intend to blow this place to the ground. My stomach drops back down to the fourth floor when I see another message on my door. Right below the “human scum” from this morning is a note written in Sharpie that says
“Death to traitors!”
Great. Death threats.
One minute, I’m peacefully vibing on a fluffy cloud, with beautiful lilac-colored wings sprouting from my back, and munching down on a Crunchwrap Supreme, and the next minute, I’m drowning in a frigid ocean.
I sputter, sitting up in bed as I’m yanked from my dream and covered in what smells like dirty sewage water.
“Rise and shine, sleeping uggo!” a shrill voice yells in my face.
“What the actual fuck?” I open my eyes to Katri and two of her friends, who I’ve learned are Camilla and Crystal.
The tan brunette, Camilla, holds an empty bucket above my head. While I’m pretty sure Crystal just called me ugly.
“What the hell is this?” I scream in shock.
“Lake water.” Crystal laughs in that shrill voice of hers.
“We have a training session. You’re late.” Katri glares daggers at me from the end of my bed.
“Yeah, I’m not doing that.” I throw my soaked blankets off in disgust. Looks like it’s laundry day. “Get out!”
Katri places her hands on her slim hips and taps her foot.
“How the hell did you get in here?” I demand as I scoot myself out of bed.
“I’m your wing captain, I can get in anywhere.” Katri straightens the crop top of her matching workout set. “And yes, you are. Boden declared it. He put me in charge of your out-of-shape ass.”
“Who died and made him king?” I retort under my breath, while I begin to strip my sheets.
“His moms and whole family, obviously,” Camilla jibes. Oh fuck. Right.
“Fine,” I concede, dropping my bedding. “I’m coming.”
“Hurry up, I actually have things to do this morning.” Katri continues to tap her annoying as hell foot, which I’m picturing breaking off her leg.
I grab workout gear and run to the bathroom to change.
I feel like absolute poop, and we haven’t even started training.
My throat is scratchy, and I’m dizzy, probably because my body wasn’t meant to spar for three hours.
After I’m changed and mostly dry, but stinking of lake water, I follow the girls down the stairs, jogging.
These stairs are a fucking death trap. They’re not made for jogging.
I grimace as I picture myself falling and breaking my neck—my limp body rolling down the stairs and taking out Katri, Camilla, and Crystal.
I smile. At least my death will mean something.
Thinking of my death, I sent a photo of my vandalized door to the Student Concerns email address last night. I received a response that I should tell my wing captain. The wing captain who’s currently glaring at me over her shoulder like I ruined her favorite pair of Gucci slip-ons.
Katri et al. lead me to the gym where they proceed to spend the next seventy-five minutes taking turns throwing me down on the mat.
This went from a one-on-one training session to three unhinged girls kicking my ass first thing in the morning.
By the time Katri declares our time’s up and leaves, I’m covered in new bruises to add to my collection.
I’m pretty sure I sprained my ankle.
I may have a cracked rib.
I lie on the mat and stare at the vaulted ceiling, trying not to hyperventilate. I’m supposed to meet my new running group in fifteen minutes, but I think I might just die here, instead.
“Looks like this week isn’t going any better?” A handsome face framed by long golden hair pops into view above me.
“Eh, I’m just practicing,” I declare, squinting up into Michi’s smirk.
“For what?”
“Death.”
Michi chuckles and, in a deep, sensual voice, asks, “Want to practice walking to the dining hall instead? I’m just about to head to breakfast.”
Yes! What I wouldn’t give for the world’s largest iced coffee. “I’d love nothing more, but there are two problems preventing that.” I start the slow process of sitting up.
“And they are?” Michi cocks an eyebrow.
“One, I don’t think walking is in the cards for me. I lost use of my legs about twenty minutes ago.” I sigh dramatically as I work to bend my rapidly swelling left knee.
“Easy fix, I’ll carry you.” He flashes me his dazzling movie star smile, holding out a hand to help me up. “And two?”
“Boden Lamont,” I say, as I somehow make it into a standing position. “I have mandatory running group. And I just experienced the punishment of back talk. It’s not nearly as kinky as it sounds.”
“Ah yes, did he make you shine his golden combat games medal yet?” Michi grins sarcastically.
I burst out a strangled laugh. “Ouch,” I wheeze. “Don’t make me laugh. It will send me into cardiac arrest.”
“Oh, we can’t have that. It would be really difficult for you to fall for me without a functioning heart.” He winks. “Rain check for dinner then. How about tomorrow?”
“Sure.” I bite my lip to prevent a stupid grin from taking over my face. That line was Cheeto-level cheesy. But considering that outside of my three newly developing friendships, everyone else on this campus seems to hate me, I’ll take it.
“Dope. I’ll text you. See ya then,” he says, jogging toward the door.
“Wait, you don’t have my number!” I shout after him, while simultaneously checking out his ass. Yeah, that’s not a bad view.
“I have my ways,” he yell-laughs over his shoulder.
I survived running group. Barely. When Kian explained this whole “deal” to me, he said nothing about running. If he had, I may have fought harder not to come.
Now I’m sitting in Devorare Studies, listening to a willowy professor with long dark hair give an overview of the prominent houses of the kingdoms. Each year, students are required to take one Kingdom Studies course.
I figured it would be pertinent for me to take the Convalescere course first since that’s evidently the kingdom I’m from, but it was full.
Which, apparently, has something to do with Boden being the teaching assistant.
It’s fine since I don’t want to sit among a bunch of Boden’s simpering fangirls anyway.
I’m adding everything Professor Luna is currently lecturing on to my DIY glossary.
Everyone else might have grown up in this world and have posh college degrees, but I have a lack of streaming platform options, a severe case of imposter syndrome, and a seven o’clock curfew. I’m going to be caught up in no time.
Since gothic horror is one of my favorite book genres, I’m practically bouncing in my seat to learn about all the magicae my favorite novels are based on.
Professor Luna introduces herself as a banshee.
She doesn’t look nearly as terrifying as one would expect.
Just like an attractive, normal woman in her thirties.
Banshees, bodachs, and mares apparently obtain their energy from feeding on nightmares and fear-based energies.
They can create haunting visions and manipulate fear.
Which is equal parts terrifying and awesome.
Kingdom Devorare has an intricate social structure and equally intricate power dynamics, where there’s a delicate balance between giving and taking, focused on the exchange and consumption of life forces.
She then ruins my lifelong dream of meeting a mermaid by explaining that sirens are not, in fact, beautiful, sexy half-human fish and are, instead, magicae who obtain energy by stealing breath from others.
Her description of vampires is unsurprising and pretty self-explanatory. They drink blood. Been there, seen that, almost pissed my pants.