12. Ivy
IVY
T he morning slips by in a haze of curious looks and new information, leaving my mind spinning. It appears my two-year fast-track is a hot topic among some of the other students, especially the girls aiming to tear me down. All it took was one strong whisper from them and it spread like wildfire.
Ironic.
By the time lunch arrives, I’m starving. Apparently, adjusting to a new place takes all my energy, and I need to refuel.
Inching closer to the dining hall, I pass a few groups scattered across the lawn, holding wrapped sandwiches and bottled drinks as they soak up the sunshine. I want in on the action.
I instantly miss the sunkissed bliss outside when I step into the busy space. Instead of scanning the tables like yesterday, my attention drifts toward the edge of the room, wondering if there’s somewhere I can order food without sitting down.
The feeling that eyes are watching me makes my throat dry, but I swallow past the lump forming, determined to grab a sandwich and get back to the warm sunshine outside.
My luck seems to worsen as I finally focus on a nearby table, but before I can admit defeat and trudge toward it, I’m stopped by a flash of brown hair and a wide smile.
Meadow.
“Hey, are you okay? You look lost,” she says, and I grimace.
“That obvious?” I admit with an exhale, and her grin spreads.
“I would be the same if my sister hadn’t shown me the ropes,” she insists, linking her arm through mine without a care in the world.
I blink at her for a moment, confusion and uncertainty rising in my mind, but if she notices, she doesn’t acknowledge it.
“What are you looking for?” she asks, and I clear my throat.
“I noticed a few people outside with sandwiches, and I was hoping to grab one for myself and go sit in the sun instead of staying in here,” I explain, and she nods in understanding.
“As if by magic, I can help with that,” she declares, tugging me to her side as she moves us to the left, her stride confident and purposeful as she gestures toward a refrigerator set up in a small alcove. “This thing gets restocked all the time, and the selection is good.”
“Thank you,” I mumble as we come to a stop, faced with a range of choices before me as Meadow unlinks her arm from mine.
Before I can overthink it, I grab a chicken and avocado on focaccia and a bottle of water. She chooses a turkey and Swiss on rye with a bottle of sweet tea.
“Outside?” she clarifies, tilting her brow as if inviting herself along, and I nod, glad for the company.
She takes the lead again, and the tingling sensation of being watched persists. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Archer and the rest of my hated mates gathered around a circular table in the center of the room. I assume it’s them, but I don’t look directly, refusing to give them the satisfaction.
Instead, I keep my shoulders back and my head held high as I step outside into the sunshine once again.
It boosts my mood instantly.
But it still irritates me that I’m letting others bring me down so easily.
I might not show it, but that doesn’t mean it’s not happening beneath the surface.
I’m in the one place I’ve always dreamed of being.
Instead of letting others try to cut me down, I should be soaking in my moment and appreciating every second of it.
Meadow plops down on a random patch of grass, dumping her bag beside her, and I follow suit, carefully placing my bag on the ground before I scoop my skirt underneath me and sit down.
Wordlessly, we both dive into our sandwiches, a sense of contentment surrounding us, and it makes me smile. Maybe she’s exactly what I need. I’m at my best when I find myself in a comfortable environment, where I can pretend nothing else matters while I claim what should have always been mine.
“I haven’t seen you in any of my classes this morning,” she blurts once she’s eaten her sandwich and drunk two-thirds of her tea.
“I know you wouldn’t be in my Land class,” she states, pointing toward the red emblem on my blazer.
“But I thought I might have seen you in the other two,” she adds, and I try my best not to grimace.
Finishing the food in my mouth, I clear my throat. “I seem to have skipped ahead two years,” I explain, unsure of the best way to word it, and her eyebrows gather in confusion.
“Huh, I didn’t realize you could do that. Isn’t your fated mate upset about being apart from you?” she asks, and my tongue feels heavy in my mouth.
I blink at her, waiting for a knowing smile and a flicker of understanding, but it doesn’t happen.
A weight presses on my chest when I realize, for the first time in my life, I have to explain my situation. I’ve never had to because it seemed everyone already knew. Everyone but Meadow.
Rubbing my lips together, I consider my options but decide that the blunt truth is best for everyone. “Fated mates, plural. I have four of them. They rejected me two years ago, and just when I thought I was ready to move on with my life, bam, they reappear, and here I am.”
She gapes at me in disbelief, her eyelids fluttering repeatedly as she tries to grasp what I’m saying before she finally speaks. “That’s… insane,” she rasps, and I snicker.
“It’s not fun, that’s for sure,” I grumble, and she shakes her head, still jarred by my admission.
“Four fated mates is a lot of testosterone,” she states, and I huff.
“It’s four times too much.”
Her eyebrows rise. “You don’t like them?”
“After being publicly rejected? Not so much,” I admit, and she shudders.
“Yeah, that makes sense. So they’ve been here for two years already, and you’ve been abruptly thrown into the deep end with them?”
“Basically,” I say with a sigh, quickly trying to shake it off. “The deep end I don’t mind, it’s more that it’s overwhelming because I have no idea what they’re talking about most of the time.”
“They should help you. Your fated mates, I mean,” she mumbles, and I snicker.
“One of them couldn’t even help me from falling off the edge of the cliff yesterday. Helping me actually accomplish something while I’m here seems to be completely off the table.”
Her jaw drops open wider as she drags a hand down her face. “Ivy, what the hell is your life?”
“Too much,” I say, shaking my head before gesturing toward her. “Tell me about yours,” I insist, redirecting the conversation, and she thankfully takes the bait.
“There isn’t much to say, really. My sister is here too, a Land Protector like me, and my fated mate, Toby, is a Water Protector,” she explains, and I give her a pointed look.
“Meadow, I meant to tell me about you, not your sister and your fated mate.”
She blushes and shrugs as she looks down at the grass. “There’s not much to say about me otherwise.”
“Then we need to change that,” I declare, and she sits up a little straighter.
“Maybe we do. Maybe we need to change things for you too,” she offers, and I nod.
“That’s the plan,” I explain, finishing the last of my water as I see everyone starting to disperse. “Do we need to be leaving too?”
“Sadly. What class do you have next?”
“History of Surrounding Kingdoms.”
“That sounds terrible.”
“Do you think? I love the sound of it. I enjoy dissecting people’s actions and analyzing their minds to understand their motives.”
Meadow blinks at me as if I’ve grown a second head while we both stand to leave.
“You’re insane, Ivy,” she says with a grin, and I smile.
Out of all the things I’ve heard about myself today, that’s the nicest. “Do you at least have Offensive Warfare after that? I heard it’s another mixed-years class, and I’m sure someone mentioned that Land and Fire take it together. ”
“I do.” Excitement rushes through me with a spark of hope.
“Then I’ll see you there and we can come up with some elaborate plan for how we’re going to change our lives for the better.” She doesn’t wait for an answer, disappearing from sight as I drop my trash in the nearest can before heading to my first history class.
I find it easy enough to locate, tucked away at the far end of the hall on the first floor of the main academy building.
As I step over the threshold, I immediately spot my fated mates sitting in a line at the back of the room.
The four of them together confirm that it’s a mixed sodality class, but only for our year group.
I can’t decide if that’s a blessing or a curse.
Brushing my hair over my shoulder, I look for an open table when my name is called from behind the professor’s desk.
“Ah, you must be Miss Hayworth. Nice to meet you, I’m Professor Grogan.
Take a seat with your fated mates, class will begin shortly,” he declares, barely glancing at me from the corner of his eye as he speaks.
I don’t actually mind, but it’s more the way he’s directing me where to sit that irritates me.
I don’t want to sit anywhere near them.
Parting my lips, it’s on the tip of my tongue to say just that when a shrill voice cuts through the air. “That won’t be possible, Professor Grogan, the spot has already been taken.”
I don’t need to turn around to see who it is. I would recognize that voice anywhere now. It’s the same girl who’s been determined to drive me crazy since the gathering. I really don’t know what her problem is, but she’s got one, and I have to deal with it whether I like it or not.
Smiling, I reluctantly follow the sound of her voice to find her sitting beside Teddy on the far right. Sax and Baron are seated in the middle, while Archer holds up the other end, which is at the end of an aisle, with no free spots. Just as she said.
“That’s absolutely fine, I can sit anywhere else.”
The girl preens and I make a mental note to learn her name, but the task is quickly completed as the professor clears his throat. “This is my class, Bonnie, not yours. Relocate and sit with your fated mate before I send you to Professor Viola.”