38. Chapter 38
Arwen
You could drown a girl in the ocean of rumors at SinVail, but I learn to float above it all as it fades to background noise.
One month in, most stories about me have calcified into their final forms: the former sinless student with a mysterious power so strong that my bonds, Maddox and Atticus, dropped my ass and I’m not allowed to use it.
Unfortunately, I’m also known as the girl who is so bad at potions that her instructor for her last lab needed reconstructive healing on both his hands.
Outside of that, things have returned to a sense of normalcy. I have received no other ‘gifts’ from Vex, thankfully. Although there have been plenty of creepy notes of devotion from Maylo…
Drawings on my nightstand, words on my window. Even letters drawn through a steamy mirror when I’m in the shower room alone. Next time I see him, we are going to have a firm conversation about privacy and boundaries.
Faction Resource Statistics is an interesting enough class.
Various second- and third-year students pack the auditorium in their color-coded blazers.
I sink down in my seat, getting comfortable in the back row as our instructor, Professor Tally, prowls the semicircular tiered seating.
It’s been nice to fade into statistical insignificance.
Tally launches into a case study. His voice cuts through the room—dry, but impossible to tune out.
“Let’s say you’re on the minor Gluttony council,” Tally says, eyes flicking from tier to tier, “and you have a modest little trade deficit with Greed. What do you do? What are your key resources?”
No one moves to respond because everyone knows Tally is a harsh asshole. There’s momentary silence, and then Tally’s gaze lands on me.
Shit.
“Davies,” he says, “since you’re the pride and joy of Gluttony, why don’t you come up to the front of the class and enlighten us?”
My first instinct is to check if there’s another Davies within a two-mile radius. There isn’t. I stand and walk to the front. So much for statistical insignificance…
“I guess—” I begin, but Tally cuts me off, holding up a long finger like a conductor in front of an orchestra.
“No guesses,” he says. “I thought you were some protégé? Rising from a sinless to the Gluttony Council family in a year. You’re supposed to know.”
Some girls in front of me stifle laughter.
“Despite your assumption, I was only in Gluttony for a hand full of weeks. Researching their trading plans wasn’t exactly on the agenda.” I grit out.
Tally raises both eyebrows. The classroom leans in; you can practically hear necks cracking.
“That’s shockingly aggressive for a Gluttony,” he says, smirking. “Let’s not waste time. You know what I’m asking.” He leans in, voice lower but still amplified. “What are Gluttony’s top five regional resources and their primary sources? Surely even you would know something as simple as that.”
I bite the inside of my cheek hard. “Based on the little I’ve seen, I would assume guns and booze are at the top of the list.” I stall.
A ripple of laughter. Tally looks like he might combust from satisfaction.
He paces in front of me. “So this is the future. I’ve got to admit, it looks bleak.”
I sharp angry jerk in the bond catches my attention.
Atticus is sitting rigid off to the left side of the auditorium, stormy blue eyes locked on Tally with an expression that looks dangerously close to murder.
I figured out at the start of the term he tried to get into as many of my lectures as possible, despite him being ordered to stay away from me. He still keeps his distance, aware of the eyes on us.
This Tally can make fun of me all he wants. I’m sure he’s in some Councilor’s pocket. There have been a few provocations from staff, though none so bold.
“What’s bleak about the future is the fact that I have to sit through your boring class for the rest of the year,” I respond.
“They didn’t train me for this. I got thrown into an entirely different faction against my will, and I’m trying to catch up, which is why I’m here.” I shrug. “Sorry if my near-death experiences interfered with memorizing regional exports.”
The room goes dead quiet. Tally’s smirk flickers, and I cross my arms and shut up before my mouth gets me expelled.
“You see, Davies has a talent for theatrics,” he tells the class. “Only time will tell if we might discover an actual intellect under the red hair and trauma.”
“Actual intellect?” Comes a familiar voice off to the right. I glance back and am stunned to see Ryker looking enraged. His green eyes are sharp with something ugly as he watches the professor.
“Interesting coming from a professor whose teaching strategy seems to be public humiliation and hoping nobody notices he’s recycling the same lesson plan from ten years ago.”
The room goes dead quiet as Tally’s face reddens.
“Miss Davies here misunderstands her position—”
“No,” he cuts in. “I think everyone else misunderstands it.”
My pulse pounds hard enough to make my ears ring. Why is this asshole sticking up for me?
Tally’s jaw tightens. “She expects sympathy because she made poor choices. That doesn’t excuse her falling—”
“Actually,” Ryker interrupts, “if we’re discussing poor choices, I’d say publicly antagonizing a bonded student whose family is now on the Council and controls most of the trade routes is a pretty stupid one.”
The room stills as Tally turns slowly. “Excuse me?”
Ryker leans back in his chair like he’s lounging poolside instead of detonating a classroom.
“You heard me.” His voice sharpens. “You’re embarrassing yourself.”
A couple of people choke trying not to laugh.
Ryker gestures toward me. “And for the record? Davies answered correctly. Alcohol distribution and weapons manufacturing are two of Gluttony’s largest exports. If you actually cared about teaching instead of making some weird political statement, you’d recognize that.”
Tally flushes deeper. He’s not going to go toe to toe with Ryker, who has a very good claim for the open Greed Councilor role. His eyes flick toward Atticus to see if he’ll step in to fight his battle for him.
Bad choice.
Atticus is still staring at him with cold fury. Tally straightens, realizing this class has turned against him.
“Miss Davies,” he says tightly, “return to your seat.”
I hold his gaze another second before walking back down the aisle towards my seat.
As I pass Ryker and give him a look, he gives me a tiny shrug like: What? Someone had to do it.
Unfortunately, when I glance toward Atticus… he looks like he wants to strangle Ryker with his bare hands.
Fantastic.
The second class ends; chaos erupts. Students flood into the hallway buzzing with gossip while I shove books into my bag as fast as possible.
I barely make it out the door before Ryker slams into the wall beside the entrance.
“What are you playing at?” Atticus snarls. His forearm presses against Ryker’s chest while students scatter backward to watch from a safe distance.
Ryker shoves him back just as hard.
“Oh, now you want to defend her?” he snaps. “Interesting timing, Willshire.”
Atticus’s eyes darken dangerously. “Careful.”
“No,” Ryker bites out. “You sat there and let him tear into her.”
My stomach twists. Atticus steps closer. “You know nothing about this situation,” he says under his breath.
“I know you looked pathetic,” Ryker fires back. “If you won’t stick up for your own bond, someone has to.”
The hallway goes silent. Atticus moves so fast I barely catch it. He slams into Rykers face with a right hook that honestly impresses me.
“Say that again,” Atticus says softly.
As much as I’d love to watch a beat-down of Ryker, I know it’d bring too much unwanted attention. Men are exhausting.
“HEY!” I shove between them before one of them starts a full faction war in the hallway. “Can you cool your testosterone? Or did you both become Wrath in the past five minutes?”
Neither moves. Both are still glaring at each other over my head like apex predators.
I throw my hands up. “Unbelievable.” I jab a finger toward Atticus. “You—stop trying to murder people who talk to me.”
Then toward Ryker. “And you—stop acting like some white knight. I wasn’t born yesterday. I know exactly who you are.”
Ryker opens his mouth.
“No,” I snap. “And no more involving me in your rivalry. I can handle myself,” I say. “I appreciate the help, but I am not some helpless damsel.”
Somehow, they both look offended. I groan loudly and walk away.