Chapter 8
But today, as I walked in with the Triad flanking me like a royal guard, the noise level dropped significantly.
"They're staring," Kai whispered, grabbing three apples from a bowl.
"Of course they're staring," Rhett grunted. "We caused a scene at the Registry. Rumor has it I barked at the Dean."
"You did bark at the Dean," Lucien corrected calmly. "It was quite resonant."
We made our way to our usual table in the back corner. The mood on campus had shifted since the Registry began. The lines were being drawn. Students who had registered wore little green lapel pins—Marrow’s "Mark of Compliance." Students who hadn't (like us) were getting side-eyed.
"Pins," Ivy muttered, slamming her tray down next to mine. "He's giving out pins. It's so pedestrian. If I'm going to join a cult, I want a robe."
"It's not a cult, Ivy," Stone’s deep voice rumbled from behind us.
Ivy jumped, nearly knocking over her latte. Stone stood there, holding a black coffee and looking uncomfortable in the sea of students.
"You're stalking me," Ivy accused, pointing a spoon at him. "Admit it. You're obsessed with my chaos."
"I am observing," Stone corrected, his gaze lingering on her neon-green mesh top. "And ensuring you don't start a food fight with telekinesis like you did on Tuesday."
"That bagel had it coming," Ivy sniffed.
Before Stone could respond, a hush fell over the room. A different kind of hush. Not the fearful silence that greeted the Dean, or the awed silence that followed the Triad.
This was the silence of a shark entering the water.
Amelia Vance walked in.
Or rather, she tried to walk in.
Usually, Amelia commanded the room. She was the Queen Bee of Moonstone Hall, the girl who could ruin your social life with a single raised eyebrow. She always walked with a phalanx of minions—girls who laughed at her jokes and carried her bags.
Today, she was alone.
She was wearing last season's coat. Her signature designer bag was missing, replaced by a generic canvas tote. And her head was held high, but her eyes were darting around nervously.
She walked toward her usual table—the prime spot by the window.
It was occupied.
Her former best friends—Chloe and Sarah—were sitting there. They didn't move as Amelia approached. They didn't smile.
"Excuse me," Amelia said, her voice tight. "You're in my seat."
Chloe, a petite Shifter with a mean streak a mile wide, looked up. She glanced at the empty chair, then at Amelia.
"I don't think so," Chloe said loudly. The cafeteria went dead silent. "This table is for students in Good Standing."
Amelia faltered. "What?"
"We heard about your parents, Amelia," Sarah added, inspecting her nails. "Arrested for domestic terrorism? Funding the Brotherhood? That's... embarrassing. Dean Marrow said we shouldn't associate with 'Radical Elements'."
"I am not a radical element!" Amelia hissed, her cheeks flushing crimson. "I am Amelia Vance! My family built this wing of the library!"
"And now they're in a federal magical prison," Chloe smiled. It was a cruel, sharp thing. "So... scoot. You're blocking the light."
Amelia stood there, frozen. The humiliation was absolute. The entire cafeteria was watching the Queen fall.
My wolf whined.
Pack looks out for pack.
"Don't," Rhett warned, grabbing my wrist. "She's an enemy, Lina."
"She's a student," I said, pulling away. "And she's drowning."
I stood up.
But before I could move, someone else did.
Arthur Penhaligon.
The lanky, cardigan-wearing archivist was walking across the cafeteria. He looked completely out of place, holding a brown paper sack lunch. He walked right past the popular table, ignoring Chloe entirely, and stopped next to Amelia.
"Hey," he said. His voice wasn't loud, but in the silence, it carried. "I saved you a seat."
Amelia blinked at him, looking like he had just spoken in tongues. "What?"
"Over there." Arthur pointed to a small, empty table near the exit. "Come on. I have extra fruit snacks."
Amelia looked at Chloe, who was sneering. She looked at the cafeteria, watching her with hungry eyes. Then she looked at Arthur.
She lifted her chin. Only slightly.
"Fine," she said, her voice trembling but haughty. "I suppose I can sit with you. If you insist."
"I insist," Arthur smiled.
He led her away. As they walked past the popular table, Arthur paused. He looked down at Chloe.
"By the way," he said cheerfully. "Your library books are overdue. The fine is up to forty dollars. I'd pay that before we send the gargoyles to collect."
Chloe paled.
Arthur winked and led Amelia to the corner table.
"Well," Kai exhaled, leaning back in his chair. "That was unexpected. Did the Librarian just savage the Mean Girls?"
"Arthur," I said, smiling as I watched them sit down. Amelia was stiff, refusing to look at anyone, but Arthur was already unpacking his lunch, chatting away as if nothing had happened. "His name is Arthur."
"He's brave," Lucien noted. "Social suicide is a bold move for a Human at a magic school."
"He doesn't care about social standing," I realized. "He's outside the hierarchy. That's why he's perfect for her."
"Perfect for who?" Ivy asked, finally tearing her eyes away from Stone (who had also been watching the scene with a thoughtful expression).
"Amelia," I said. "She just lost everything. Her money. Her status. Her friends. She thinks she's nothing."
"And Arthur?" Rhett asked, stealing a grape from my tray.
"Arthur treats her like she's just a girl," I said. "Not a Queen. Not a villain. Just a girl who likes fruit snacks."
Across the room, Amelia took a packet of gummies from Arthur. She didn't smile. But her shoulders dropped, just an inch.
"Redemption Arc," Kai whispered. "I love a good Redemption Arc."
"Don't get too attached," Rhett warned. "She's still a Vance. Snakes don't stop biting just because they're hungry."
"Maybe," I said. "Or maybe she just needs a reason not to bite."
I looked at the "Compliance Pin" on Chloe's lapel. The little green symbol of Marrow's control.
Marrow was dividing us. Turning us against each other. 'Good Standing' vs 'Radical Elements'.
But in the corner, a Human Archivist and a Fallen Princess were sharing lunch.
"We need to recruit them," I said suddenly.
"Who?" Lucien asked.
"Amelia and Arthur. They have access to the deep archives. Amelia knows the elite families—she knows who Marrow is courting. Arthur knows the history."
"Lina," Rhett groaned. "Amelia hates you. She literally tried to hex your hair off last semester."
"The enemy of my enemy," I said, standing up. "Is my research assistant. Come on. Class starts in ten minutes. We have a war to plan."