39
Predator Grace at the Long Table
Melody
“That was insane.”
“I’ve never seen anyone fight like that.”
“She literally wiped the floor with him. I mean, High Lord Kyrith—the White Mountain Lion of Palisandre—got put down like a house cat.”
The grand hall is buzzing, everyone’s voices bouncing off the high ceiling, full of awe and disbelief.
It feels as if the whole campus came to watch, and now no one can stop talking about it.
Even the scribes in their beige robes and blue stones around their waists set into a black leather belt seem to pause and listen.
“Gods, she looked like Morrigan herself,” Shay says with so much awe glinting in her eyes I almost mistake it for tears.
“What the heck are you talking about? Who in the nine hells is Morrigan?” Ryder asks.
“Norse mythology of the witches,” Shay tsks. “Morrigan was the great goddess of the witches herself.”
“Yeah, well whatever. Alaric was awesome.”
I drop down next to Ryder, who immediately presses his warm shoulder against mine like the overprotective wolf he is.
I grab a hunk of bread, dunk it into my boar stew and try not to groan at how sore my muscles are.
Even holding the spoon makes my arm shake, but the food is so good, I’d do anything to eat it.
I’d probably lap it straight out of the bowl… not that I’d ever tell anyone.
“He deserved it,” Cassius growls around a mouthful of pastry, crumbs flying everywhere. “After what he did to you.”
“Eeeek, manners, fae male,” Shay quips, shifting away from him and patting crumbs from her silky top.
I just nod because my mouth is full—and honestly, I don’t even know what to say. No one here has asked me why I won’t let my magic out, or why I look like death warmed over, and I love them for it.
When I glance up, Morgana is staring at me from across the table, twirling a strand of perfect blonde hair around her finger. She’s never actually spoken to me in class, but I’ve caught her watching before—with curiosity, distrust, maybe a little envy simmering in her aura.
Then the chatter dies instantly, like someone just cast a silencing spell, and I turn.
And there’s Blair.
Cutlery clatters as hands forget what they’re holding. The room goes dead still, every head turning. Blair knows it too. She walks between the rows of tables in her tight-as-hells fighting leathers, her red cloak trailing like blood behind her, her spine straight enough to slice glass.
She fucking owns the room, and it doesn’t seem to bother her a bit.
Aris, sitting next to me, tries to raise an eyebrow—which is hilarious, since he has none.
Blair notices, too, wriggling her own. “You do know you have no brows, demon? Whatever you’re doing with your forehead looks ridiculous,” she drawls, pulling out a chair and dropping into it, right next to Ryder, who sits slack-jawed.
Aris growls at her.
She grins back at him, flashing those shiny silver fangs. “Still hangry, huh? Awwww, doesn’t the campus feed the overgrown lizard well enough?” But she doesn’t say it mean—just teasing—and Aris lets it pass.
A massive bowl of stew—larger than anyone else’s—appears in front of her, complete with a whole loaf of still warm bread. Blair just glances up at the ceiling, smirking. “Guess the campus finally accepts me.”
The table stays silent as she devours her food like it’s her last meal. The bowl is empty within seconds, the bread gone without so much as a crumb.
“Note to self,” Aris mutters, “never try to share a meal with her. I value my limbs. And everything else, for that matter.”
“You came,” I manage, a little stunned she’s sitting here right in front of me, a part of me expecting an illusion and Blair bursting like a bubble.
“Yeah. Couldn’t resist the food.” She tilts her head at the ceiling again and burps so loud everyone can hear. Hells, alright, no illusion. It’s the real Blair. “Still hungry, campus,” she whines.
A whole roast chicken appears—and disappears down Blair’s throat almost as fast.
A girl with sea-green hair and elegantly pointed ears approaches, glancing nervously between Blair and me. Blair doesn’t even look at her until she speaks up.
“Miss Alaric,” the girl says softly.
Blair turns her head slowly, her face settling into cool disinterest. “What is it? Make it quick. I’m eating.”
“We just wanted to say—what you did today was incredible. We all saw it. And…we wanted to ask if you’d train us. To fight like you.”
Blair just blinks, her aura flaring with pure shock . Then her voice goes dead cold. “Train you?”
The girl flushes crimson, looking ready to bolt. I kick Blair under the table.
Her head whips toward me with a scowl. “Ouch. Stop kicking me, human,” she snarls, earning herself a flat stare from me.
“Yes. Please,” another student blurts out before the first can bolt.
Blair sighs and throws her head back like she’s being personally victimized by all this admiration bestowed on her. “Fine. I’ll think about it. Now off you go. Sit down where you came from and let me eat in silence before I put one of you on the menu.”
They scatter back to their seats.
Aris stretches, sniffing at the pork belly that magically appears next on the table. Blair’s eaten the whole chicken, bones and all.
“I think the campus likes her even better than me,” he notes grumpily while he watches Blair tearing the meat apart with her claws.
“Don’t say that. You get everything you want. I just think it doesn’t want to ruin Blair’s moment,” I try to soothe him.
“Hmmm.”
“Yikes, are you actually drooling, Aris?” Blair smirks when she catches him staring at her plate. Aris bares his teeth—which is more adorable than terrifying, to be honest. And yeah, he is drooling.
“You know you look cute when you pout, right?” she says with an actual smirk, again having the same thoughts as me.
Weird. I don’t remember the last time I saw her wearing a real smile, but right now, she almost seems happy, and it warms my heart.
“Let me shift and throw a hissy fit, then we’ll see how cute I look,” he snaps.
Of course she can’t hear him, but Blair slices the meat cleanly in half with one swipe of a claw and shoves the plate toward him.
Aris just outright stares at her with his dinosaur-jaw slack. “Did she really just give me food?”
“Maybe it’s poisoned,” I offer sweetly.
“If you don’t want it, hand it back,” Blair snaps, reaching for it, but Aris growls and starts eating before she can pull the plate back to her. “Then by all means, hurry up before I change my mind.”
He polishes it off in record time.
Ryder just shakes his head, looking between the two and muttering, “Different species, same predator energy.”
Cassius elbows him. “At least we don’t eat the table,” he says when Blair actually licks some sauce off the table’s surface.
“Keep going like that and I’ll make you eat under the table,” Blair says under her breath.
Both fall silent.
Shay, who’s been quiet until now, suddenly asks, looking between me and Blair, “Do you think Kyrith’s going to bear you a grudge, Ms. Alaric?”
Blair freezes mid-lick, then smirks. “Oh, he’s probably crying into his silken sheets right now. Then he’ll find some poor soul to whip him bloody, get off on it, and be back to his usual charming self by tomorrow.”
Morgana leans in. Hells, I didn’t even notice her drawing closer. She watches Blair with a mixture of rapt fascination and adoration. “Whip him?”
Blair shrugs. “Everyone knows Kyrith’s got a pain kink. Palisandre Gossip 101. Break his little finger, and you’ll make his whole day. Half his cadre knows it too—they just pretend not to.”
The room goes utterly silent.
Blair finally lifts her head and scans the wide-eyed faces. “What? Don’t tell me you didn’t know. Seriously, next time he annoys you, aim for the ribs. He’ll thank you with a roll in the sheets later.”
The room erupts in laughter—sharp, loud, and oddly…cathartic. Even some of the professors who sit at the table at the end of the room look like they’re trying not to smirk.
Blair just leans back in her chair, looking entirely pleased with herself, as if she planned to own the room like this.
I can’t help watching her. Watching the way she casually uses her claws to rip another piece of some type of meat I’ve never seen before after the campus puts yet another plate of a roasted delicacy in front of her.
Like nothing that happened today even touched her.
Like she wasn’t just in the fighting ring with Kyrith, beating the ever-loving Abyss out of him without breaking a sweat.
I can’t stop watching her. Can’t stop wondering if she’ll stay here now.
After all this time hiding in Avandal, would she finally stick around? She could train students, become part of this place—part of us .
The laughter around me dies down as plates refill themselves. The grand hall begins to buzz again, but something prickles along the back of my neck.
Someone is watching me.
I glance up—and there he is. Again.
Riven.
He’s halfway across the hall, walking, his long, black coat flaring wide behind him. Those lilac eyes of his are so intense they might as well pin me to the bench.
But then his gaze slides away. Just like that.
And I see why.
Professor Evanalora has gotten up from her seat and is now walking with him, her white hair catching the torchlight like spun silk.
Her witchy dress reveals more of her beautiful body than I’d like.
She’s speaking to him softly, leaning in close—and I notice how her elegant hand is resting lightly on his arm.
And he doesn’t shrug her off. Doesn’t even seem to notice.
Something sharp twists back and forth in my chest.
I bite down hard on my lower lip, trying to keep my face neutral, but it feels like the room has suddenly gone too quiet, as if the walls are pressing in. My appetite is gone.
He doesn’t look back.