Chapter 23 – — Headmaster Ashmoor, Private Notes
Chapter Twenty-Three
“The lies our parents tell us are the hardest to forgive. They shape who we become before we ever learn the truth.”
— Headmaster Ashmoor, Private Notes
“Raven is my mother’s maiden name,” I add, filling the silence at their awestruck stares.
Their eyes widen.
“I mean, it has to be her, right?” I say, and I’m not sure if I’m asking them or trying to convince myself. “I doubt there are any other Helena Ravens with red hair wandering around the Frostlands studying polar bears.”
“This whole time you’ve been looking for a record of your father at Ashwell,” Lux says slowly, the pieces clicking together in her mind. “But maybe it was your mother who went here.”
I nod, but my thoughts are spinning too fast to grab onto any single one.
Why would she keep this a secret? Even if she didn’t attend Ashwell, she clearly knew about it. She was here in the Frostlands studying corrupted creatures for at least a year. What the hell was she doing that for?
My mother never spoke much about her life before she married my father. I couldn’t imagine her traveling across Valen, let alone spending a year in one of the most dangerous and remote places on the continent.
And all I can feel right now is how furious I am. She never told me any of this.
Mr. Holloway returns with three tall glasses of ice-cold ale and three shots of amber whiskey. We down the shots quickly, the burn sliding down my throat, and chase them with the ale. My body heats from the inside out as the alcohol settles into my bloodstream.
“I need to go back to the library,” I say more to myself than to them. I stare off into the distance, trying to piece together what any of this could mean.
“You’re thinking too loud.” Ellavee’s voice pulls me back. “I can hear it from here.”
“Sorry.” I laugh through my nose, but there’s no humor in it.
“Maybe instead of going to the library again you should ask the school,” Lux says. “The school should know everything about you. It would definitely have records of whether your parents attended.”
“How in the hell would I ask the school?” I raise an eyebrow at her.
She grins like she’s been waiting for me to ask. “Why, the mirror of course, silly.”
“You already know the mirror let you inside once.” Ellavee sips her drink, her eyes narrow over the rim. “Find it and go inside again. Ask it questions. Seems a hell of a lot easier than sifting through dusty records in that creepy old library with the creepy old librarian.”
“Do you think the mirror is still down where the ceremony was?” I ask, and they both shrug.
“Honestly, no idea. But there’s only one way to find out.” Lux winks at me, and I can’t help but smile. Now I know exactly what I’m doing when we get back to the school.
By the third round, Lux is venting about her father and how he expects perfection in everything because she carries his name.
How she can never fail quietly. It always has to be a public disappointment.
She’s wound tight about the upcoming midterms, terrified of letting him down even though she’d never admit that’s what scares her most.
Ellavee doesn’t seem stressed about midterms at all. She’s far more interested in her ongoing mission to seduce Killian, who she has confirmed is only friends with Zuri, nothing more.
“Thank the gods,” she says, swirling her drink. “The last thing we need is another angel pissed off at us.”
“Speaking of angels.” I pick at the edge of my glass. “Do you think Jace will ever speak to me again?”
Our waiter drops off a platter of cubed cheeses, cured meats, and crusty bread for us to pick at. Ellavee doesn’t hesitate.
“Definitely not,” she laughs, popping a cube of cheese into her mouth.
Lux bumps her with her shoulder. “Ellavee.”
“What? She said she wanted the truth.”
“It’s fine.” I snort, reaching for a piece of bread. “I’d rather know where I stand than pretend there’s hope.”
The tavern doors swing open, letting in a gust of cold air and two very familiar figures. Malric and Draven push through the entrance, a woman draped on each of their arms. The girls are polished and pretty, the kind of effortless beauty that makes you want to hate them on principle.
I must make a face because both Ellavee and Lux turn to see who walked in.
“Gods.” Lux shudders visibly. “I still can’t believe you let that bite you.”
“I can.” Ellavee shrugs, tearing off a piece of crusty bread. “He may be a complete bastard, but he’s objectively attractive, in a slimy, ‘I’d rather stab myself’ kind of way.”
“Your standards are terrifying,” Lux mutters.
“My standards are flexible. There’s a difference.”
I watch them settle at the bar, facing our direction, but neither of them seems to have noticed us tucked away at our little table in the back.
The tavern is crowded tonight, and I find myself sinking lower in my chair, hoping to stay invisible when I notice Malric has three long red marks down one side of his neck, like something scratched him.
“Do you recognize those girls they’re with?” I ask, trying to sound casual and failing miserably.
“They definitely don’t go to Ashwell.” Lux peeks over her shoulder. “Interesting.”
“It’s not interesting.” I tear my eyes away from them. “I don’t care what he does.”
“Sure you don’t.” Ellavee is smirking at me now, that knowing look I hate. “That’s why you’re gripping your glass hard enough to shatter it.”
I look down. She’s right. I force my fingers to loosen.
“Wait.” Lux’s eyes go wide. “Do you like Malric? I thought you said it was a mistake.”
“We’re not talking about Malric.” Ellavee rolls her eyes. “Keep up, Lux. We’re talking about Draven.”
“Draven?” Lux whips her head toward the bar and then back to me. “Since when is Draven on the table?”
“He’s not on the table,” I snap. “There is no table. I don’t even own a table.”
“And yet you can’t stop staring at him.” Ellavee pops another piece of cheese in her mouth, looking far too pleased with herself. “I recognize the dark-haired girl. She works at the inn down the street. Very friendly, if you catch my meaning.”
“Draven has a type apparently.” Lux grins.
“I said I don’t care.”
“And I said, ‘Sure you don’t.’”
I refuse to look at the bar again or think about Draven’s hands on some other girl. About his mouth on her neck. About whether he’ll bite her the way Malric bit me.
It doesn’t matter. He’s nothing to me, and I’m nothing to him. But what did Lux mean by he has a type, uh it doesn’t matter, clearly she’s just trying to get a rise out of me and it’s working.
“We need more drinks.” I wave at the waiter. “A lot more drinks.”
By the fifth round, two guys had joined our table.
They’re locals, friends of Lux and Ellavee from back when they lived here. One is tall with dark curly hair and an easy smile that crinkles the corners of his eyes. His name is Finn. The other is broader with a neatly trimmed beard and warm brown eyes that seem genuinely kind. Corrin.
Finn has somehow ended up next to me. His thigh is pressed against mine under the table, and his hand keeps finding excuses to touch my arm when he talks. Brushing against my wrist when he reaches for his drink. Squeezing my shoulder when he laughs at something I say.
I let him.
“So you’re at Ashwell.” He leans closer, his breath warm against my ear. “That must be intense.”
“You have no idea.”
“I’ve heard stories. Creatures and fissures and people dying all the time.”
“It’s not all the time.” I finish my drink and set the glass down. “But often enough to keep things interesting.”
His eyes travel over my face. “Still, you must be brave to go there.”
I think about freezing with the saw in my hand, about Nella’s eyes going empty while I stood there useless.
“I’m not brave.”
“I don’t believe that.” He smiles, slow and warm. “You look brave to me.”
It’s such a stupid line, the kind of thing boys say when they want to get you into bed and don’t have anything clever to offer, but the alcohol has made everything fuzzy, and he’s handsome enough. I don’t want to feel the guilt or the grief or the weight of all the questions I can’t answer.
I want to forget, even if it’s for one night.
Across the room, I feel eyes on me.
I don’t have to look to know it’s Draven.
I look anyway.
He’s watching me. The girl on his arm is talking to him, her fingers playing with his hair, but he’s not listening to a word she’s saying. He’s looking at me and Finn. At the way Finn’s hand has settled around my back. At the way I’m leaning into him instead of pulling away.
Finn and Corrin get up to grab another round of shots from the bar, and the moment they’re out of earshot, Ellavee leans in.
“You’ve been eye fucking him for the last twenty minutes. What’s going on there?”
I nearly choke on my drink. “I’m not eye fucking anyone.”
“You absolutely are.” Lux giggles. “I thought your eyes were going to burn holes through that poor girl’s head.”
“I told you both that nothing is going on. I can’t stand either of them.” I set my glass down a little too hard. “I’m disgusted watching that girl lick all over his neck and throw herself at him like that in public. It’s pathetic.”
“Pathetic.” Ellavee’s smirk deepens. “Right, that’s definitely why you look like you want to rip her hair out.”
“I don’t—”
“If it bothers you that much,” she cuts me off, lowering her voice as the guys make their way back with fresh drinks, “then maybe you should do the same. Instead of eye fucking him from across the room, try to get under his skin.” Her eyes glitter. “It might be fun.”
The drinks keep coming, and I stop counting.
Ellavee is leaning into Corrin, laughing at something he said, her usual guard completely dissolved by alcohol. Lux is flushed and giggly, her pink hair falling out of its pins as she gestures wildly telling some story about a prank she and Ellavee pulled when they were younger.
I’m really drunk. Everything feels soft around the edges and nothing seems to matter as much as it did an hour ago.