33. Chapter 33
Arwen
“Are you nervous?” Holly asks around a mouthful of toast, like we’re discussing an upcoming quiz and not the possibility of me accidentally dismembering faculty before first period. I stab at my yogurt cup, feeling too nauseous to eat.
“Of course she’s nervous,” Tabby says, stealing fruit off Cleo’s plate. “They were going to exile her to the Wastes just for not having a sin power—imagine what they’ll do if she removes Dean Bellows’s right arm!”
Cleo slaps her hand as she goes back for more fruit. “Can you try to be helpful for once? And get your own strawberries!”
“She’s not wrong,” I mutter.
The breakfast hall buzzes around us in a familiar way that should be comforting. My first breakfast back behind the walls of SinVail. Instead, I have vicious butterflies and the feeling that half of the eyes in the cafeteria are on me… and not in a good way.
I guess that should also be normal, but last year the looks were pity or disgust. Now it’s like the eyes are trying to dig under my skin, find my secrets so they can place me in the appropriate category.
Horrifying monster or a sad nobody who took a Councilor’s son off the market?
It doesn’t go unnoticed that Brix also sits at the other end of the table, as far away from me as possible. I guess I still come with baggage.
Sighing, my eyes drift across the cafeteria to Atticus. He sits at his usual table near the windows, surrounded by the polished, beautiful elite of Pride, like usual.
Our eyes meet, and for one stupid heartbeat, it’s like last year all over again. Except this time… I smile. Small and tentative.
His expression softens as he smiles back. Not the polished public smile. The real one that does nothing to help the mean butterflies in my stomach.
Mine.
Of course, it doesn’t take long for Daphne to notice. Her hand lands on his forearm, and she leans in, saying something with a pout that makes me want to launch my spoon at her forehead.
Atticus’s entire face hardens. He pulls away from her, visibly irritated, then stands and moves several seats down the table to sit beside one of his male friends instead.
Sure, it’s petty of me, but warmth blooms in my chest, anyway.
Holly leans closer across the table. “So…” she whispers. “What’s your plan? Are you checking in on the other bonds today?”
My stomach drops at the thought. Last night I filled them in on everything—my bonds, the kidnapping, the torture, the family from Hell. Sly and Brix missed most of it.
Holly and Sly are still in a rocky place. I kept pestering her to talk about it last night until she finally threatened to punch me in the nose if I didn’t stop.
“I’m still not sure how to handle it,” I mutter. “It feels wrong sneaking around behind Maddox and Atticus when they aren’t aware of the situation. I need to tell them, eventually. All of them. I just…” My voice drops. “I already feel like enough of a problem.”
Cleo frowns. “You’re not a problem, Arwen. I thought we nipped this in the bud last year.”
I can’t help glancing at Brix, who just looks away and becomes fascinated by the table.
“Agreed,” Tabby says. “Don’t make us give you another giant group hug right here in the middle of the cafeteria, because we’ll do it.”
“Everything is just so messy.” I continue, forcing a lighter tone, “I mean, tracking down Maylo is impossible. He’s the one who finds me…”
“Nightmare fuel,” Holly mutters.
—I haven’t encountered Alexi yet, but I know he and Ryker were inseparable during half of last semester…
“And Professor Hot-and-Inappropriate?” Tabby asks wickedly.
I groan and drop my face into my hands. “Oh my universe, do not remind me.”
Holly cackles. “You really haven’t seen him since you climbed into his lap in pigtails?”
“I was drunk. And persuaded by some very terrible friends who encourage poor life choices, I might add,” I say, looking at them pointedly.
Tabby wipes fake tears from her eyes. “That memory sustains me.”
I point around the table.
“This is not friendship.”
“No,” Holly agrees. “This is family.”
I laugh despite myself. Standing, I grab my bags. “I might as well get this over with.”
They chorus good luck as I turn toward the doors, only to walk straight into Ryker. I stop so abruptly that my boots squeak. He grabs my shoulders to steady me, and every nearby conversation dims. Heads turn.
“No thank you,” I say, sidestepping him.
Ryker blinks. “What?”
“No…” I say, heading for the exit. “…To whatever this is.”
He catches up easily. “I was just going to say good luck.”
I stop and turn to find his cocky expression has slipped.
“With the power test,” he adds more quietly.
I guess your concern makes sense, given that the last time you saw me try to use it, they had me strapped to a table, and I was bleeding out.
Guilt flickers nakedly across his face. I turn before he can say more and catch Atticus’s stormy eyes watching us from across the room. My stomach flips.
“I have to go,” I mutter, fleeing before either of them can make my life more complicated.
The hallway outside the dining hall is even worse. Students line the corridors in clusters. Everywhere I walk, eyes follow. Hands raising to cover the whispers coming from their mouths like I can’t read what they are thinking by the looks on their faces.
Something in me finally snaps. I stop so abruptly in front of a group staring at me that several people almost run into me from behind.
“What?” I shout. The word cracks down the hallway.
Students jump and the crowd scatters. I’m just tired of being watched like a damn circus animal. I wish I could just become invisible. I turn the corner too fast and slam right into another hard chest. “For the love of—”
My entire body goes rigid as look up into icy bright blue eyes.
“You!” I say with all the frustration I can muster.
Maylo Villanox smiles wider, his dimples framing his wolfish grin that screams ‘trouble.’
“Me.”
I point at the nearest empty classroom so hard that I’m surprised my power didn’t slip out. “In there. Now.”
He places a hand dramatically over his heart. “As my lady wishes.”
The classroom is dim and empty when we enter, the morning sun filtering through dusty windows. I shut the door behind us and round on him.
“I have a bone to pick with you.”
His grin sharpens. “You can pick whatever bone you like. Name it. I’ll rip it from my body and lay it at your feet this very instant.”
He says it with such sincere enthusiasm that—
I genuinely think he might do it. I decide not to engage with that.
“What happened at the trial?” I demand. “How did you know Maddox and I were going to snap a proximity bond?”
Maylo tilts his head. “I know someone,” he says cryptically, “who knows things.”
“That is the least helpful answer you could give.”
He smiles like I’m a cute kitten snuggling up for a nap.
“You told Maddox to throw the potion to me.”
“Yes,” he says, nodding.
“You knew what would happen.” I cross my arms.
“Yes.”
“How?”
His gaze sharpens. “I was following orders.”
A cold unease crawls down my spine. “Whose orders?”
His smile turns secretive. “Good orders. Orders that will bring us together, my little stormcloud.”
He moves to touch my face, and I slap his hand away. “Stop that. And quit talking in riddles.”
“Would you prefer a poem, my sweet?” he asks cheerfully.
I could scream.
He steps closer. His fingers raise again to brush a strand of hair behind my ear, and this time I let him. My breath catches. His touch is strangely gentle. And the look in his eyes—
“If I could, I’d be with you now. Tie myself to you. Taste you. If I could, I’d just shrink myself and live inside you all day, licking your walls.”
Swallowing, I step back. His unhinged words are doing something to me I don’t quite understand.
Strangely intimate. It’s too intense. Too tempting to reach out and run my fingers over that sharp jawline.
“Does this have something to do with your power?” I ask, crossing my arms again. Putting up a barrier and composing myself. “Whatever weird knowing thing you keep doing—”
“All in good time, stormcloud.”
“I am not your stormcloud.”
His grin falters.
“And if you cared about me at all,” I snap, anger breaking through the confusion, “you would’ve warned me I was about to become a carved turkey at Councilor Blaise’s table.”
The shift in him is instant. Terrifying.
His entire body goes still as rage explodes across his face. “That was not supposed to happen.”
I freeze as his voice continues to rise in a rant.
“Master said nothing of that—he didn’t know—if he would have known…”
“What are you talking about?”
“You were supposed to be in the Wastes!” he shouts, pacing, frantic energy crackling off him like static. “Safe enough for us to find—not in a dungeon, not bleeding, not—”
His breathing turns ragged and wild as he musses up his dark hair. He looks genuinely panicked. And more than a little insane. None of what he is saying makes sense.
“Maylo,” I say cautiously.
He keeps muttering. “He didn’t know. He didn’t know. He didn’t—”
I step forward and place a hand lightly against his wrist.
“Maylo.”
He goes still. The frenzy drains from his face as his breathing slows, and his eyes drop to our hands.
“It’s not fair,” he whispers.
My heart thuds. “What isn’t fair?”
“You make them go away.” He says, voice raw.
My brows knit together
“The voices. The noise.” He leans forward until his forehead rests against mine, and every muscle in my body locks. “Everything goes quiet when you’re near me.”
I forget how to breathe as I stare at him. His long eyelashes fanning below his closed eyes. He’s hauntingly beautiful.
“You make it clear,” he whispers, looking less unhinged. Just… broken.
“But he says it’s not time,” Maylo murmurs. His eyes open, bright blue and sharp again. He runs his knuckles down my face. “And he knows best.”
“Who knows best?” I ask softly. “Maylo, what do you mean by ‘master’?
He steps back as the moment shatters. “I’ll be watching you, stormcloud. I’ll protect you. Always.”
Then he turns for the door and slips into the hallway.
“Hold on—” I lunge after him. “We are not done here—”
I follow immediately and stop dead, looking down the hall. There’s no trace of him at all. It’s like he vanished into thin air.