19. Polaris
19
POLARIS
M y alarm goes off, obnoxiously blaring through the air as I bolt upright in bed. My heart races from the sudden sound, but when my bedroom comes into focus, my panic calms a little as I take in the furnishings that are slowly becoming my new normal.
Brushing my hair back off my face, I adjust my pillow and lean back against the headboard. A sigh trickles through me, parting my lips as I accept the time. At least I managed to get two hours of sleep. Given the circumstances from last night, that seems to be a miracle in itself.
Now I have an extra issue to lie awake at night thinking about. On top of the new surroundings and lifestyle I’ve been given and the knowledge of all the lies that have been fed to me up to this point, I now have the disastrous first few days here at Trinity Falls, along with the weight of Veronica’s death, on my mind. Even the thought of her name makes the vision of last night flash along the back of my eyelids as I try to squeeze them shut tight, my fingers clenched, nails biting into my palms as I will the nausea churning inside of me to subside.
A fleeting thought of Lincoln comes to mind, along with a sprinkling of the cute guy behind the bar, and the nausea burns more fiercely. It's hard to remember that yesterday held more than just pain. Pressing my fingers to my lips, I replay the touch of Lincoln’s lips against mine as I recall the kiss from the hot wolf. The wolf who didn't recognize me from the first time I met him. That single reminder should leave me disappointed, but it was somewhat…refreshing.
I kissed someone that wasn’t Terence. I kissed someone because I really wanted to. I kissed someone, and I melted. My body felt things I didn’t know were possible.
Stretching my arms over my head, I sigh again, the sound morphing into a yawn before I try to pep talk myself out of my sheets. Yesterday was yesterday, in all of its pain and glory, but now I need to get up and start getting ready for the day.
I exhale a withering breath, the tremble only reinforcing the fact that I have no idea how I’m supposed to survive any of this. As if sensing my inner turmoil, a knock comes from the door. Pursing my lips, I consider my choices: to ignore or not to ignore. The next knock that rattles the door frame tells me I don't have a choice.
Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I tiptoe across the distance between me and the banging, aware that I’m only in a t-shirt and panties, but there’s not enough time for me to rectify that. I pry the door open just an inch to reveal Bryony on the other side, and I exhale with relief. She knocks the door open wider, bustling inside, leaving me at the threshold, gaping at her.
She takes over the space like a whirlwind as I shut the door behind her. We don’t speak as I watch her pace back and forth across the width of my room a few times until she slams to a halt. With her hands on her hips and her head cocked to one side, she finally acknowledges my presence. In my own room.
“I wanted to check in on you after last night,” she states, hiking her chin up an inch as she continues to assess me.
“Check in on me? I'm fine,” I insist, trying to brush off the subject. I spent long enough lost to the turmoil last night; I was hoping to avoid it today.
Bryony, however, doesn't look that fine at all, and maybe that's why she's here. Although, the pointed look she’s offering tells me she’s aware of my bullshit.
I expect her to call me out on it, but instead, she scurries toward my bed, looking out the window as she folds her arms over her chest. She runs her tongue over her bottom lip before she glances back at me, and a frown takes over her face.
“I thought you liked your hair.”
Confused, I scrunch my nose. “I do.”
Her eyebrows only draw tighter. “Then why…I'm confused,” she admits, rocking back on her heels as she continues to stare at me with a strange look in her eyes.
“Right back at you,” I retort, completely bewildered by what's going on when she stomps towards me, unfolding her arms to grab my upper arm and tug me toward the armoire.
She forcefully swings the door open, leaving me to look at my reflection, and understanding quickly washes over me. Although I may understand her confusion, it doesn’t mean I have the answer.
My gut clenches as I gape at the silver hair that frames my face.
Silver.
Not black.
The new version of myself that we created last night is long gone.
I’m just me: silver locks and all.
“I didn't touch it,” I blurt, tentatively running my fingers through the ends to confirm what I see. When I’m sure it’s not a figment of my imagination, my gaze whirls to Bryony. “How? How could this happen?”
Bryony shrugs, seemingly as lost as I am. “I don't know,” she admits, rubbing her lips together as she stares at me. “Mine doesn't do that,” she adds, fueling the confusion and irritation inside of me.
Turning away from the reflection to avoid the silver glaring back at me, I focus all of my attention on Bryony. “All I did was sleep. Well, mostly tossed and turned, but that's beside the point. I didn't do a single thing. I wouldn’t have known how, even if I had wanted to.” Lacing my fingers together, I look down at them with a hint of defeat burning in my gut. “I really liked it,” I admit, my shoulders slumping with disappointment.
As Bryony stares at me, she mindlessly taps her fingertip against her lips. The smallest crinkle forms between her eyes, a flicker of uncertainty before she clears her throat. “It could be your magic,” she breathes, and I freeze, feeling the color drain from my face as I turn to her.
“My magic? I don't have any, remember?” I lift my hands to gape at the bangles like she understands why they matter, but all she does is shrug.
“Maybe, but how else can you explain it?” she pushes, and I shake my head in disbelief.
“I can’t.” I shudder at the words. I can't explain it. The reality of that leaves me more overwhelmed than I care to admit. “It doesn't make sense.”
She runs her hand down my arm comfortingly. “We can try and dye it again this weekend if you like?” she offers, and my face scrunches up.
“But what if it turns back to this again?” I grumble, irritating myself when I know for a fact there are much worse things going on right now around me. I fell in love with the mystery that came with the dark hair. Without it, my pain and discomfort rise to the surface.
“If it turns back, then it turns back, but at least we know it's not a random occurrence. That way we’ll know it definitely has something to do with your magic,” she insists, and I sigh. Her ability to see the positive side of the situation makes it impossible for me to dwell, a fact that’s rather unsettling since I’m so good at it.
“I guess that's a good idea,” I murmur, and she winks.
“I know it is. I'm full of them. Now let's go to breakfast so you can tell me all about last night,” she states, and another shiver ripples through my body. This time, it’s my turn to hide behind the barrier of my arms folded tightly across my chest as I will the horrors of last night to dissipate.
“I don't want to relive that terror ever again,” I insist, and she smirks, waving me off as she heads toward the door.
“Not that part, silly, the Lincoln part.”
Right now isn't the time to remember. I shouldn’t be remembering the taste of desire that flickered over my skin last night. I should be in mourning. We’ve suffered a significant loss of life. But as I look around the dining hall, it seems the rest of the academy is unfazed. Well, there’s definitely a shift amongst the wolves today, but everyone else? No change at all.
The vampires don’t seem even a little bit saddened by the loss of Dean. I run my eyes over their table, sitting parallel to ours in the dining hall, paying as close attention as possible, but my initial assessment seems correct.
I spy Sian and Terence down at the opposite end of the room, and there’s not a morsel of sadness in their features. Maybe that’s because we only just arrived? I don’t know. I don’t know how I would feel if it had been a witch, but what I do know is the fact that the wolf girl cried last night. She cried for a girl she barely knew. That’s not the same vibe coming from the vampires.
Sian and Terence are in their own world, leaning close to Blaze as he talks with a gruff exterior, but to my surprise, whatever he says must be funny because a moment later, they toss their heads back with laughter. That seals it. They didn't lose someone they had known for years, just another stranger in another prison.
Staring down at the plate of food in front of me, the sadness that fills me when I acknowledge that people are dying and no one seems to care obliterates my desire to eat. As if sensing my inner turmoil, Bryony nudges my plate closer to me.
“Girl, we're not going to our first class until you catch me up to speed,” she says.
It’s not hard to read between the lines, understanding what she wants without outwardly saying it, but I’m guessing if I pretend to ignore it, she would push until she blurted it loud enough for everyone to hear, and I can’t imagine anything worse.
My gaze darts across to where the wolves are, finding the man in question seated centrally at the huge table. The girl from last night is on his left, and Wylder, the guy from the bar, is on his right. I think the guy next to him is the one who delivered the awful news. Asher? I think. While the guy I was caught eavesdropping on sits beside the girl.
They all look tired and drained.
“The wolves are usually quiet the day after a full moon,” Bryony explains, a fact that doesn't really make sense, so I shrug.
“Cool.”
She clears her throat, rubbing her lips together as she nods in their direction. “You should go over there.”
“I should not!” I exclaim, and she gapes at me. If it weren’t for the twinkle in her eyes, I would believe her to be as na?ve as she’s acting.
“Why?”
I look down at my food again, planting my elbow on the table and resting my face in my hand. I feel completely under her scrutiny, and it makes me so uncomfortable that I consider picking up my fork again. However, the reminder of Veronica has me boycotting the quiet road.
Finding her gaze, I blurt the truth. “Because he didn't recognize me.”
“He didn't recognize you,” she repeats in confusion, and I roll my eyes at her.
“Are you a witch or a parrot?” I ask, acutely aware that I'm bad at repeating questions back to people, but I'm hoping to distract her from the topic at hand. I feel like I’ve already said enough.
Instead, she cocks her brow at me with an amused grin on her face. “Nice, but how could he not recognize you? And where would he recognize you from?”
I find the line of wolves once more, intrigued by the four men that gravitate toward one another, but jealousy sears through me at the sight of the girl in the mix. Shaking my head, I turn to face Bryony. There’s no reason not to talk about it, I guess. It’s not like anything more is ever going to happen. I’ve had my fleeting sliver of attention from a wolf. “I had the joy of meeting Lincoln during the first five minutes of arriving here from Florentines. Other than that, I haven't really seen him, but we've been in a few classes together.”
Her eyebrows knit further together as she shakes her head, confusion still morphing her features. “All we did was color your hair.”
I snicker. “And do my makeup and make me look nothing like I do now,” I add and she scoffs.
“Please, the makeup only enhanced the features you already have. He's dumb, but not blind.”
I bite back a laugh, but she's not done assessing the situation. She leans forward, bracing her forearms on the table. “I was certain he was going to slip away with you deeper into the woods to have S E X ,” she stage-whispers, feeding her own grin, and I roll my eyes again.
“Oh, he was trying.”
She leans back in shock, her hand pressed against her chest as she gapes at me with a mixture of bewilderment and horror. “And you said no?”
I can feel the familiar heat returning to my cheeks. “Well, technically not.”
“You're gonna have to explain that, Polaris,” she insists, nudging at my arm.
I press my lips together, unsure whether I should share, but there’s a sense of comfort in her demeanor that, even though I can’t decipher it, makes me feel safe. Besides, as much as it’s personal, it was funny, and it still detracts from the sadness that clings to every fiber in my body.
“I told him I was a virgin.”
“A virgin,” she shouts, and I feel like my entire body is ablaze.
“Wow, Bryony, whisper much?” I grumble, refusing to lift my gaze from my plate as I plead for the ground to open beneath me.
“Sorry! Sorry. My brain is just so slow with all of this. There's too much information, I cannot keep up. I mean, I guess it makes sense since you had your first drink last night. But damn, that's not what I was expecting. How did he take the news?”
I shrug, continuing to avoid her gaze as I reach for my fork and push the eggs around my plate. Now that she’s back to not shouting, I can think about it without worrying the embarrassment is going to kill me.
“He doesn't do virgins.”
She scoffs again. “Of course not. He’ll be worried about a stage five clinger,” she insists. And I frown, finally peering at her from the corner of my eye. “Lincoln James is anything but the commitment type. I've honestly heard stories of him sharing women with his core pack,” she whispers like that's a big secret. It’s more of a secret than my virginity, but apparently, that's not something to be shy about, or yell about.
“Sharing?” I say with a gulp, the word heavy on my tongue, and she shrugs, nodding toward them.
“Yeah, core pack—him and his brothers—but apparently, you have to be a wolf for them to consider it,” she insists, curling her fingers into air quotes.
Following her attention, I find my gaze latching back on them again, only this time, Lincoln is staring straight at me. My heart skips up into my throat, but he continues gazing around the room.
“Wow. He really is dumb. He had no acknowledgment of you then,” Bryony murmurs in shock, and I shake my head, dropping my fork back to the plate as I lean back.
I’m too caught up on the sharing fact. Being overlooked doesn’t even register in my brain. “It doesn't matter anyway. Last night was simply one of the distractions this place has to offer. I've been thinking about what you said non-stop, and as much as I don't want to kill someone, I don't want to die either, and if I don't want to die, I can't be distracted by the likes of Lincoln or feeble attempts at bullying from Blaze, or Wylder, for that matter.”
“Wylder?” she interjects, eyebrows high as a blush creeps over my cheeks, and she winks at me. “He's friends with Lincoln, you know,” she states, and I shrug.
“Good for him.” I stand, done with my poor attempt at breakfast, but even more done with the hot distractions flaunted before me, yet it seems she's not done.
“You're really going to walk away from a chance at that?” she says, and my eyes meet hers.
I keep a straight face for all of five seconds before we both giggle. Flipping my hair over my shoulder, I put my back toward the wolves as I answer her honestly.
“There never was a chance to begin with.”