3. Chapter Three
Chapter Three
Emma
I hide my bandaged hand as I leave the bathroom and clean up my station.
Everyone has carried on without me, including Kitty, and I don’t think they’ll look for me as I slip out the door into the dining hall.
The envelope is burning a hole in my pocket, and for a split second, I think about leaving for my room to read it.
But I promised my sisters I would finally eat with them this morning because I’ve been skipping to volunteer.
Before arriving at Doxlothia for the house assignment test, I had imagined the castle would be dusty, filled with cobwebs, and dimly lit to hide the dirt caked into the carpets.
All the movies I watched as a kid depicted castles that way, but once I left Groveshire, the outside world proved to be much shinier.
They keep this place so clean that you could eat food off the floor.
Really. I’ve seen someone do it with tears streaking down their face when the duck they had spent the entire day preparing toppled onto the tiles.
The dining hall is lit with a skylight and large windows, and there are flowers sitting in the rafters. Sometimes, I memorize the painted scenes on the arches. Each one is different; some with landscapes and animals, others are portraits or florals. It’s strangely whimsical.
People steer clear, even when they smell me walk past and sit down next to my sisters.
Having sweeter blood doesn’t mean much to me, not when my mother handled it with such grace.
She was never scared, so I’m not either.
Plus, thanks to my older sister Olivia and her recent engagement to her hybrid werewolf-vampire mate, we’re under his newly founded pack’s protection.
Which . . . is a total of three people, right now.
But my other sister, Evangeline, the oldest of us three, is helping him hold some interviews for new pack members.
Olivia always picks the spot next to the window, where it’s warmest, and Eva and I have to squint at her in the morning sun.
“Why is everyone looking at you?” Olivia says, pulling apart her croissant.
The steam floats into the air in an intoxicating puff. It’s perfect. Just like I wanted.
I show her my hand and the red stain on the bandage. Her violet and gold eyes widen, and she reaches for me. I quickly hide it in my apron.
“Let Parker patch it.”
Werewolf healing saliva or not, he’s not getting it near me.
“Ew, he’s not licking my hand,” I say.
She rolls her eyes. “He doesn’t have to lick you directly.”
“I don’t want spit in my wound, thank you. I get you’re into it, but that doesn’t appeal to all of us.”
Olivia glares and takes another bite of her croissant. Everything Olivia does is dainty and soft. Even the way she chews her food. It has to be the ballet discipline.
“I’ll go with you to the nurse,” Eva chimes in.
She picked her hot pink blazer today. It’s too much for her complexion, but I’m not going to tell her.
Eva’s recently mellowed out from her usual anxious blur.
Since Olivia’s recent near-death experience and time in the hospital, Eva has spent a lot of the energy she used to spend worrying about everything else on Olivia.
Olivia is tired of talking about what happened, so we don’t.
I don’t blame her. It’s in all the papers and still making rounds on the gossip forums. The bottom line is that they’re hanging out together more, which is great because I really need to focus.
“No, I can find my way afterward. Stop worrying. Plus, I have something to do today,” I say.
I think briefly about telling them, but I’m not in the headspace for feedback or, very likely, pushback. I should have just gone to my room to read the letter because if I whip it out now, they’re going to be nosy. If our roles were reversed, I would be too.
“Hello, ladies.” Parker comes in with wet, messy hair. His shirt is clinging to his chest as if he put it on seconds after the shower. Like Olivia, he is dressed in Noxx House purple. “How are we feeling today?”
Parker is the only reason I’m not scared that the entire cafeteria might ambush me.
His protection as an alpha is enough. I’ve seen him threaten lots of people, and he means business.
Plus, he’s huge, and his position as the Rage team captain, a sport that involves beating your opponents bloody on the ice, means no one wants to challenge him.
“So, Em, need me to patch your hand?” Parker asks.
I shoot Olivia a glare that she pretends not to notice.
“Or I can walk you to the nurse,” Parker says after intense eye contact with Olivia.
“Stop that,” I say.
Their mate bond means they can speak in each other’s heads. It’s so annoying. I can tell when Olivia’s zoning out and gossiping about me telepathically. It’s a new development, and they haven’t gotten good at hiding it yet.
They would get the rare mate gift. I’ve never met two more perfect people.
Perfect at their sports. Perfect relationship.
Perfect, rare mate bond everyone in Vviveren is raving about.
They’re practically royalty at this point.
In a few short months, my sister has gone from social pariah to Vviveren’s darling.
“Already offered.” Eva smiles, running a quick brush through her blonde hair before handing it back to Olivia, who takes it and adds it back to her bag of endless helpful things.
“Pretty please? I’m gonna worry about it all morning,” Parker says.
There’s a whistle, and Parker tilts his head toward the sound. He’s being called by his best friend, Zant, over at the council table. I spot the head of dark hair and the sleeve of his green blazer.
The council is one of the highest governing boards at Doxlothia, right up there with the dean. They decide new rules, funding, and events while the dean oversees everything and mediates with the board of directors. More importantly, Dacre’s face is plastered all over their posters.
He’s there, sitting in his usual seat, facing the wall, so I have a view of the back of his head. He has a blob of short brown hair he’s always running his hands through, and he leans back in his chair as if he has nowhere better to be.
It’s not as if I check for him every morning or anything. I try my best to stay out of his way, but somehow, we always end up in the same places.
“Will everyone let me live, please? And aren’t you late?” I motion to the council table. Parker just got accepted, and he’s likely late. Again.
He squints. “Yeah, a little, but you’re more important than my failings.”
“I’ll be fine. Jeez, you’re worse than Dad. Speaking of, I better not hear any of you telling him I cut my hand.”
Dad just returned to his teaching job at the university, and I’m happy to see him more often, but not excited to be crushed under the weight of his worry every day.
I’m a grown woman, and I don’t need him hovering around, especially if I ever do get into a relationship. Though that isn’t likely at this rate.
“I’ve got it. Go.” Olivia folds her hands into Parker’s jacket and kisses his cheek. They melt into each other like butter into batter, and Parker breaks into a wide smile before kissing her back.
Olivia was never like this before. She was never that nice to men who weren’t her ballet partners and would visibly crinkle her nose every time she saw people kiss in public.
Now, apparently, she’s got no problem sharing spit and tongue with her lover in front of everyone.
But Parker makes her so stupidly happy that it’s hard to be annoyed with them.
Of the order I’d have us married in, Olivia was the last one on the list. It went Evangeline, me, Olivia. But Eva broke up with her boyfriend, I’m a loveless hermit, and Olivia got a mate and a rock on her finger after just a few months of being here.
I guess it’s not surprising. Olivia is great at everything and the luckiest person alive.
“Sorry,” Olivia says as she wipes Parker’s saliva from her lips, and he disappears after another forehead kiss.
She apologizes because my eye is twitching and because I’m stuffing my face while I glare at her and her perfect life.
I’m happy for her, really. I’m just a little sad for myself and the disappointing abyss that is my love life and my career prospects.
On my worst days her success is like a blinding light shining in my face. Mildly annoying and overstimulating.
“They’re going to open up for new students again. I know that’s why you’re so stressed.” Eva changes the subject back to what I really care about.
Any day now, we should have word of when, or if, the culinary club is going to be opened to new students this semester, after all.
“Yeah, if Dacre isn’t a dick. I told you he practically knocked me over on the bleachers the other day.”
I can still feel his fingers grazing my neck.
And see the hardness of his emerald eyes searing into me.
I accidentally bumped into him after Parker’s team won the Rage team off-season tournament. Scratch that, he ran into me. And rubbed icing off my neck.
A strange swirling of heat nestles in my belly at the thought of him touching me. Disgusting.
“Just say the word, and I’ll arrange for it to be handled,” Olivia says, returning to her food.
She’s completely serious. And though I do often smile at the thought of Parker beating Dacre up and leaving him on the ground to grovel and beg for mercy, I can’t have her fiancé fight all my battles for me, even if he’s good at it.
“Absolutely not.” I try moving my fingers, and my palm aches where I cut it.
Dacre’s the only thing standing in my way.
I say my goodbyes after navigating through small talk for a few more minutes and retreat through the dining hall doors.
The curiosity about the red envelope is eating me alive.
One quick glance behind me, and I stop. Dacre holds my gaze from across the dining hall, as if his eyes had followed me the moment I left. I finger the envelope in my hand, and his attention drops to it.
What could he possibly want from me?