35. Chapter 35
Arwen
The smell of smoke and herbs overwhelm me before I even step into the potions room.
The classroom looks similar to the Gluttony general sin rotation from last year.
Dark green bottles line towering shelves from floor to ceiling.
Copper instruments gleam beneath hanging lights.
Mortars grind. Liquids bubble. Students casually stir mixtures that look capable of dissolving human organs.
Which, knowing Gluttony, they probably can.
And this time I’ll be an active participant and not just an observer. Conversation dies down and whispers pick up as I walk in.
“Is she part of the West family now?”
“No way.”
“I heard she’s bonded to Maddox, though.”
“Yeah, but he didn’t come back with her.”
“Maybe he got bored already.”
I pretend not to hear any of it and keep walking toward an empty seat near the middle of the room—
Suddenly a hand shoots out and yanks my wrist. I whip around.
A random guy covered in at least fifteen different facial piercings grins at me from his chair. Rings line his brows, nose, lips—honestly, I’m not fully convinced they aren’t holding his face together.
“So,” he drawls, squeezing my wrist tighter, “is it true you’ve got some crazy combat power now, or are the rumors all bullshit?”
The whispers die as my pulse spikes in anger. Before I can act, he lets out a sharp hiss of pain. Metal face jerks as another guy steps forward and grips the pressure point between his thumb and wrist.
“Ah—shit!”
At the same time, someone SLAMS both fists onto his desk so hard the glass vials rattle.
“Do not touch her. She is under the protection of Maddox West,” he says, staring around the room. “That goes for all of you.”
Every head in the room turns. Metal face releases my wrist with a curse under his breath. I pull my arm back against my chest and look up at my apparent rescuers.
They’re… almost identical. Buzz cuts and broad shoulders. “I’m sorry,” I drawl. “Who exactly are you?”
The taller one nods once. “Protection detail.”
“We work for Maddox,” the other says.
Oh, my universe... could I stick out anymore?
“No thanks,” I say. “I don’t need a babysitter.”
Neither of them reacts to my words. Just stare around the room like a bullet is going to fly from the chalkboard.
A girl near the front moves her bag. “You can sit here,” she offers.
“Uh… thanks.” I slide into the seat and set my bag down.
Unfortunately, buzz cut one and buzz cut two stare down the students seated behind us until they awkwardly gather their things and relocate. They take their places.
Fantastic.
I pull out my academy phone under the desk and type furiously.
Arwen: Call off your guard dogs.
Three dots appear almost immediately.
Maddox: No.
I stare at the message in disbelief, then let my forehead drop dramatically against the desk.
The girl beside me snorts. “It’s probably better you sit over here with us anyway,” she says. I lift my head enough to look at her. She has long braids piled into a messy bun and dark eyeliner.
“The guy who grabbed you?” she continues. “He works for Kael’s people. I don’t think they usually like people like…” She gestures vaguely at me.
I sigh.
“Is there anyone in this room who isn’t some lackey for a West family member?”
She shrugs.
“Most Gluttony students at SinVail are sent here by gangs. Not the family directly,” she explains.
“They rank too high to handle recruitment themselves. But everyone wants the strongest fighters, the strongest potion makers, the strongest powers. If nobody scooped them up before, they’ll get scooped up after.
Not much neutral territory in Gluttony.”
So much for escaping family politics...
I glance back toward metal face. He’s still glaring at me from across the room like he’s debating whether murder is worth detention.
“Don’t worry,” the girl says when she notices. “Dean Bellows comes down hard on gang disputes inside academy grounds. Most people behave normally.”
Her eyes flick toward the guy again. “Then again, some are more passionate than others.”
Universe, I wish I had Cleo and Tabby with me. Unfortunately, because I spent last year bouncing between sin power rotations while being powerless, I now have to make up freshman Gluttony courses. Which means no familiar faces in this class.
Instructor Lennox sweeps into the classroom right on time. “Eyes forward,” he says dryly, not even raising his voice. His gaze lands on me briefly.
“Today,” he continues, “we’ll be reviewing catalyst activation and magical stabilization. If you somehow survived your Gluttony education without understanding either concept, I suggest prayer.”
A few students laugh as I sink lower into my seat.
Lennox flicks his attention to the copper trays on our desk with tiny glass vials. “Try to channel a controlled amount of your sin energy into the catalyst crystal before mixing. Too much destabilizes the potion. Too little and it dies.”
My stomach drops. The student beside me ignites her catalyst with a faint orange glow. Across the room, others follow easily. One by one, crystals shimmer alive.
I stare down at mine. Closing my fingers around the crystal, I reach inward.
Nothing.
Around me, mixtures bubble and steam successfully.
Forcing myself to move before anyone notices, I dump the catalyst into the mixture anyway and stir. For one hopeful second nothing happens… then the liquid lets out a pathetic little hiss and turns gray.
A snort sounds out from someone next to us. “Maybe the stories were bullshit.” A few quiet laughs follow. My ears go hot first, then my neck, then my entire face, and I keep my eyes fixed on the gray, dead liquid in front of me.
***
I dump the ruined potion into the disposal bin and make a mental note to research how to fake a working catalyst later.
After class, I try to slip out fast, but the twins block both exits and end up escorting me through the halls like I’m royalty.
The weirdest part isn’t the outright avoidance—it’s that no one can decide if they should treat me like a ticking bomb, a trophy, or a target. A girl in a Sloth uniform sprints to catch up and asks if I’ll sign her cast.
“Sign it as Lady West?” she adds, voice trembling with excitement. She giggles and then sprints away, tripping over her own shoes.
Two Lusts hover by a vending alcove, openly taking selfies on their phones with me in the background. When I stop to glare at them, one winks and says, “Smile, Sinless.”
The only thing keeping me upright is knowing I have combat class next.
My one tiny sacred hour of the day where it’s okay to hit things.
Or people. I speed-walk down the side corridor, buzz cut one and two flanking me like flies on garbage.
They don’t talk, just fall in lockstep with every turn I make.
The hallway empties fast. I pretend to scroll on my phone, waiting for them to come closer.
When they get within reach, I whirl, plant my foot, and sweep the right twin’s leg out from under him.
He hits the ground with a satisfying thud.
I take the second by the shirt and slam him into the wall, forearm braced across his throat.
“You following me is making it worse,” I hiss. “I don’t care what Maddox told you; I don’t want you here.”
His pulse flutters under my arm.
“In case you didn’t get the memo,” I say, pressing my arm in to cut off his air supply, “I can take care of myself.”
I hold the glare until he finally blinks. “Copy,” he says, voice raw but steady. That’s all. No apology, no threat, just a single acknowledgement. I let him go and step back, half expecting them to jump me. Instead, both of them turn and walk away in rigid, humiliated lockstep.
I’m not even half a hallway down away when my phone pings again.
Maddox: You really shouldn’t injure the people whose job is to keep you alive.
I roll my eyes, stash my phone, and marvel at the raw, open air in front of me. I make it to the combat gym outside the academy, still crackling with post-adrenaline.
The gym is empty, for once. Only the echo of my shoes and the chemical tang of old sweat linger as I cross the blue mats. I can feel my guard dropping—for about two seconds until I reach my assigned locker and spot the locker door slightly ajar.
I open the locker cautiously, hoping no one ruined my gear, but everything looks untouched.
Instead, on the top shelf, someone’s left a box. A square, silver-wrapped package with an obnoxious, shiny bow.
I stare at it for a second, then look around the empty locker room. Not a soul in sight.
I pull the box out, set it on the bench, and pop the lid. Nestled in black velvet is the fanciest dagger I’ve ever seen. The handle is worked with blue fire-opal and delicate scrolling lines. A blade so sharp it shimmers even under the flat overhead lights. I run my thumb down the flat of it.
A slip of paper falls out of the velvet and flutters to the floor. I squat to pick it up, brain already ticking through who would leave me something this pretty. When I read the words, my heart stops.
Little Chaos,
Pretty things shouldn’t bleed for lesser men. I look forward to our time together.
—Your Vex
I hold the note between two fingers until my hands stop shaking. The words are like a live wire, a threat. Vex. The last time I saw him, he was shooting bullets my way in the Iron Gut. He’s not at the academy, but somehow he knows exactly where to find me.
A loud door bangs open, making me jump as girls pour into the room to change. I shove the note and dagger back into the box and push it into my bag. I can’t let this shake me.