27. Polaris
27
POLARIS
B reakfast alone isn’t as scary as I initially thought. At this point, I’ve faced far worse than eating by myself. Especially when exhaustion clings to me like a second skin. It seems I now have another reason not to sleep, but it’s not a priority I hold highly, not anymore.
After Veronica’s death, there’s only one thing I know for sure: I’ll sleep when I’m dead, and that could be far sooner than I want if I don’t focus.
Every time my eyelids closed, I heard a creak or a rustle in the distance, which sprung me back awake. I anticipated someone slipping into my room against my will, but no one came.
Not the Renegade coven. Not anyone.
Then, my mind would wander to the moment in the forest with Tatum.
I don’t know what I expected of him, but he was nothing like I predicted.
He was kind, considerate, and…gentle, like he knew pain himself.
The chair beside me scrapes across the ground, pulling me from my thoughts. I tilt my head to find Bryony dropping down into the seat. Her gaze settles on mine as I drop my fork, my breakfast forgotten, and fold my arms over my chest.
Pressing my lips together, I bite back the surprise and snark as she has the audacity to give me a pointed look.
“How long are you going to be mad at me?”
How long? She’s barely given me twelve hours. “I don’t know, maybe forever,” I grumble, my fingertips digging into my arms as I hold her stare, refusing to shy away like I desperately want to and usually would.
“Forever?” she scoffs, breaking eye contact to reach for a chocolate croissant before settling me with another stare that is infused with a hint of humor she doesn’t deserve. “If you don’t think I’m going to irritate you every day until you give in, then you haven’t learned anything about me at all.”
I purse my lips. “I think I’ve learned enough.”
She shakes her head, taking a large bite of the fresh pastry before she speaks. “No, you haven’t, and we both know it.”
I want to ask her a million questions, and I want to understand, yet I also want to give her the silent treatment and pretend she doesn’t exist because maybe she doesn’t deserve the opportunity to explain herself.
Looking away, I finally break her eye contact, only to latch onto a sneering vampire.
Blaze.
He stares at me, his eyes almost pitch-black, and I quickly avert my gaze.
“I’m your friend, Polaris.”
It’s my turn to scoff, cocking my brow at her as I turn to face her once again. “You’re a part of the Renegade coven first.”
“No, I’m a victim of the blood kin curse first.”
Well, isn’t that the truth for all of us.
“I didn’t partake last night, Polaris. I?—”
“You did nothing instead,” I interject, noting the irritation that coils through me, which only grows with every passing second that I realize it’s not all directed at her.
“I…I was their last recruit—a non-Florentine—and my initiation didn’t entail any of that. If I had anticipated anything off-key, I wouldn’t have gone there. I wouldn’t have risked you like that.” She slumps back in her seat with a sigh. “When Nessa died, we were all devastated, but the first thing they wanted to do was find a replacement. I was still sad and grieving, and then there was you. I trusted it to be you. Unfortunately, I didn’t anticipate their actions, and I’m sorry for that.”
Her words wash over me, offering me a dash of understanding. My gut twinges with a hint of sadness—not for myself, but for her. And as the silence stretches between us, I can’t help but fixate on the defeat that nestles in her gaze.
“That sappy look isn’t going to work on me,” I grumble, clearing my throat, and she hums.
“I know.” She nods, a disappointed smile curling her lips.
I don’t know if I can truly trust her, the jury is still out on that one, but there’s a burning question I can’t deny. “They’re not going to try and pull that kind of crap again, are they?”
She shakes her head fiercely. “No, you basically declined their offer. They won’t reach out to you again. Even if they tried, I would make sure they didn’t.”
I scoff. “I declined their offer? I didn’t let them force me, you mean.”
“Yeah, that. I’m sorry about that,” she insists, and I turn away.
“Yeah.” I sigh, feeling the tendrils of defeat as she clears her throat.
“Turning down a coven, though, it won’t look good for you among the rest of the witches. Not when it was the Renegades,” she adds, and I shrug.
“I don’t care. I have morals, standards, and boundaries. I was deprived of a life at Florentine’s, yet I stood by those morals there, and I’ll stand by them here. I don’t want to be a part of a coven who is willing to take such drastic action to get what they want without asking permission. Not when I’ve finally been given a glance at freedom.”
She nods, not saying anything else on the matter, as she finishes off her croissant and stands.
“Ready for class?” My eyebrows rise as I stare at her, and she offers me that familiar pointed look. “Are you going to spend the day getting lost on your own from one class to another, or would you lower your standards for five minutes at a time to stick by my side to survive another day?”
Damn, when she puts it like that…
Swiping a hand down my face, I sigh with reluctance. Survival comes first. That’s precisely what I told myself all night. I can walk with her from class to class, but that doesn’t mean I have to be her friend.
“Where are we going?” I ask, straightening my jacket as I move away from the table, and she glances back over her shoulder at me.
“Combat.”
As I step over the threshold into the combat classroom, I startle when I find the room morphing before my eyes, and by the time my foot presses against the floor, it’s grass and dirt beneath my sneakers.
With wide eyes, I turn to Bryony, who frowns in response for a moment before understanding flashes over her features. “It’s a hidden portal. It’s set around the perimeter of the classroom door to lead you out to the far fields for training.”
I nod like it makes total sense, but it definitely freaking doesn’t. Stepping back, I notice a soft glow in the air, like a shimmer sprinkled around the small spot, when another student suddenly appears in front of it.
Another step back, another deep inhale, and I still sink into the overwhelming surroundings I find myself in. No one else cares, though; it is seemingly just me. Maybe I can do this.
Clearing my throat, I turn my attention to the rest of the class that gathers a few feet away. It takes half a second to acknowledge that the quadrants stand strong together out here too. The vampires are gathered at the far left, wolves beside them, followed by the humans, leaving the witches on the far right.
Remaining indifferent about the girl beside me, I wander along the outskirts of the group, bypassing the other quads as I move toward the witches. The second we round the wolves, my eyes snag on a familiar bun tied on the top of a ridiculously cute guy’s head.
He spots me immediately, standing a little straighter as he offers me half a smirk and a slight lift of his chin in acknowledgment. I feel my cheeks heat as my lips curl of their own accord before I duck my head, tucking a loose silver curl behind my ear before I do something to embarrass myself.
Three steps. That’s how many I manage before I glance in his direction again, and I find him still staring my way, only…Wylder is standing beside him, glancing between the both of us.
Scurrying away, I feel eyes on me, but thankfully, I’m saved by the professor who stands before everyone.
“We don’t have time to waste this morning. We have assessments coming up soon and I need to see what I’m working with,” she hollers, clapping her hands as her short blonde ponytail flaps in the breeze. “Once you’re paired off, find a pitch to set up and get to it,” she adds with a firm grumble, pointing at the squares that look to be spray-painted on the grass a few inches apart from one another. “Witches with?—”
“How about we change it up today, Professor Drummond?”
Blaze’s voice carries through the open air, sending a shiver down my spine as I turn my attention toward the vampires. The man in question stands dead center, a smug look on his face as he raises an eyebrow at me.
Me?
What the hell did I do?
I run my tongue over my bottom lip nervously as the professor follows my line of sight.
“You want me to allow different pairings?” she asks, planting her hands on her hips, eyeing each quadrant to see what they have to add.
“We’re open to it,” Lincoln hollers, snapping my attention their way to see him eyeing the vampires with a vengeance in his eyes that looks as though it will never be soothed.
“Humans?” Drummond hollers, and a few of them nod in response. I take a second to try and find B among the group, but he’s nowhere to be seen. “Witches?” she adds, turning her attention our way, and I gulp.
I don’t want to have to fight anyone if I don’t have to, but survival is survival. I’ll do what it takes.
“We’re ready,” a girl hollers from the front of the class, and I stiffen.
I know exactly who she is, a simple statement and flashbacks from last night flood my brain.
Tilting my face at Bryony, she looks dead ahead, but the slightest glimpse from the corner of her eyes tells me she knows. She just can’t admit it.
“Okay then, may it be at your own peril. Remember: no permanent injuries, and when someone submits, you call it. Anyone seen breaking these rules will face Professor Whitmore.”
I’m frozen in place for what feels like an eternity, listening to the professor read name after name off the list, waiting with bated breath for mine to be called.
“Bryony, witch, paired with Lincoln, wolf. Minnie, wolf, paired with Tatum, wolf. Asher wolf, paired with Blaze, vampire. Wylder, wolf, paired with Polaris, witch.”
My gaze snaps to the wolves, landing on the cropped-blond beast of a man to find his eyes already taking me in. A wry smile transforms the anger from his face and I gulp.
He nods to his right, and with my lips pressed together nervously, I follow his silent order. I cut through the moving bodies, each finding their own marked square, until I’m standing in the same area as Wylder.
His eyes are set on me, but my nerves make it impossible for me to look at him right now. Instead, I peer over his shoulder, watching as a few wolves face off with some vampires. The animosity between them is palpable.
Eager to avoid the pent-up strain consuming the air, I finally relent and turn to Wylder. There’s an amused grin on his face. “I?—”
“Witch, right?”
The sudden appearance of Lincoln has us both surprised, but his pointed look is aimed at me. “Uh, yeah.”
“Good. I’m looking for someone.”
“Someone?” Wylder interjects, frowning at his friend, who nods.
“Yeah.”
“I’m sure she might be able to help you, but a name would be a good start, Linc,” he grumbles, rolling his shoulders back while Lincoln scrubs at the back of his neck nervously.
“Well, I don’t have that.”
He’s looking for someone and doesn’t know their name? I don’t understand.
“Uh, I don’t know how I can help you without it. Besides, I don’t really know anyone’s name to begin with,” I add, and he shakes his head dismissively.
“Her name doesn’t matter. She had midnight-black hair, bright blue eyes, and…and that’s all that matters. Have you seen her in the witches’ dorm? I’ve spoken to the rest of the quadrants, and no one has a clue, and I haven’t seen her since the full moon party.”
Holy crap.
He’s talking about me. He’s looking for me.
I search his eyes, waiting for the realization to hit him, but nothing comes.
Nothing.
Not even an iota.
Blinking at Wylder, who I know definitely knows, I find him hiding a grin behind his bear-like hand as he subtly shakes his head at me. I have no idea what he means by that, so I focus my attention back on Lincoln.
I just need to take a deep breath and tell him, blurt it out, and put his confusion to rest. Taking a deep breath, I stand tall, ready to explain, but as I go to take a step toward him, Wylder cuts me off.
With a single wink, he turns to his friend. “If she comes up with anything, she’ll let you know. For now, let me get my fight on,” he grumbles, making Lincoln sigh before he saunters off with a defeated air around him.
I instantly feel bad and move to step around the giant blocking me from his friend’s path, but he stops me once again, this time with his hand locked around my arm. “I can’t bear it any longer,” I rasp as Wylder snickers.
“Please don’t spoil my fun just yet,” he pleads, looking down at me with wide eyes.
“Fun?”
“Yeah. I love him; he’s my brother, my pack, my Alpha, but sometimes he’s…dumb.”
I scrunch my nose, unable to see the need to keep up the charade any longer, especially when it was done unintentionally.
“Don’t pull cute faces at me,” Wylder murmurs, a rasp to his voice that burns through my body as I meet his eyes.
“There’s nothing cute?—”
“I’ll cut your tongue out if you say something mean about yourself,” he interjects, steel in his words as his nostrils flare.
Wow.
Gulping, I shake my head, quickly retracting whatever was about to part my lips. “I wasn’t going to do that,” I murmur feebly, and he rolls his eyes at me.
“Of course, you weren’t.”
His stare is unwavering, leaving me uncomfortable, so I take a step back, thankful when he drops his hold on me. Desperate to get on with the class and change the subject, I clear my throat and point at the ground. “Is it easier if I just lay down on the ground? I may as well get this over with quickly for you since I have no idea what I’m doing,” I admit, and he frowns.
“No idea?” he clarifies, and I shake my head. His eyebrows somehow manage to pinch further as he takes a step toward me.
Without warning, he rears his arm back and swings it toward my face. My eyes pinch closed, bracing for impact, but I don’t move, ready to face whatever he throws at me. It’s only when a few moments pass that I realize nothing has touched me. I pry my eyes open to find a fist right in front of my face.
Why would he swing toward me but not hit me?
Anger vibrates from him, tainting the air between us as the rest of the class falls into the background. My lips part, ready to ask what’s going on, but he beats me to it.
“Rule number one: closing your eyes isn’t going to make the attack stop,” he grunts, and I roll my eyes.
“Obviously,” I mutter, looking down at my feet with embarrassment as he slowly lowers his hand.
“Rule number two: steeling yourself for the pain isn’t the same as bracing yourself for an attack,” he continues, and I peer through my lashes at him, nodding subtly as he proceeds. “Rule number three: I would never— ever —lay a hand on you.”
“I didn’t think?—”
“The flinch says otherwise,” he interjects again, and I sigh.
“In my defense, that’s just instinct,” I ramble, and he scoffs.
“Then I’ll keep doing it until it’s not instinct with me,” he bites, and I feel my cheeks burn bright under his intense stare.
I can’t bring myself to acknowledge his statement, so I clear my throat and try to return the topic back to the class. “So, am I making this easy for you or not?”
He grabs my shoulders with both hands, maneuvering me to the center of the square as he shakes his head.
“Hell no. I’m going to teach you everything you need to know.”