Chapter 27 #2
“I’m sorry, but that is the best and whitest white cake I have ever seen. Trust me, I’ve seen a few. At the community center, we used to have a cake competition. Anyway,”—I stop rambling and slow down, looking her in the eye—“thank you.”
She blushes like Myles did, but where he looked guilty as sin, the color on her cheeks makes her smile brighter. “You’re welcome.”
When she leaves me to serve someone else, her smile stays in place, making me happy. It also makes me question these beings at Thales, are they ever thankful or grateful?
Orion and I barely sit-down, and we definitely don’t get the chance to say a word before our dinner is interrupted.
“Settle down,” a voice echoes through the dining hall.
I startle, making Orion smirk. He’s constantly entertained by me being me.
He kicks my foot but barely moves his mouth or makes a sound as he says, “Didn’t you see the message?”
“What message?”
“The one you obviously didn’t see. What were you doing at their house instead of looking at the message board?” He waggles his eyebrows suggestively.
“Not that!” I hiss back, kicking his foot.
It’s hard having a semi-heated conversation without looking like you’re talking, but we manage.
“Why do you look guilty, then? You know sex is normal, right? Mixed species hook up all the time.”
I’m saved from having to reply when two of the Thales faculty take to the stage, wearing their formal regalia. Their purple and green robes billow out, signaling the arrival of my two least favorite teachers.
“It’s good to see everyone survived both the lockdown and the feeble attempt at a strike by our enemy.” Magikster Ballin’s aura radiates the same contained rage as his voice.
He holds the attention of the crowd in the palm of his hand.
I know firsthand that he enjoys the spectacle of an audience, and the way he stands as he sweeps his eyes from one side of the room to the other confirms it.
He smiles—it’s the first time I’ve seen him do anything other than scowl—but it’s not a happy one.
It’s sinister, making him appear even more villainous.
“I assure you, in our eyes, the lockdown was the greater risk. Council is aware of what occurred with the Legion, and your families and guardians have been informed. As we told them, Thales has in place some of the strongest defensive shields in Quin-state. Despite the Legion managing to breach our wards, they did not truly test the foundation of our security.”
There’s a slowly rising energy that gathers as it moves through the dining hall.
The magiks, perhaps the most sensitive to the Magikster’s manipulation, rise the fastest, applauding his victory speech.
Eventually other designations join those wearing purple until there’s a thundering applause and cheering so loud it reminds me of the final game of playoffs.
His hands rise and the noise stops, like he flicked a switch.
“That is all the airtime we will give them. We don’t fear the Legion, nor do we respect them.”
There’s a murmur of agreement, but he silences the crowd with another wave of his hand before he surprises me by announcing his colleague. “Alpha Roberts, over to you.”
I don’t know who’s worse out of these two teachers; they’re both intimidating and commanding in their own way. As Alpha Roberts takes center stage, everyone, including Orion and I, jumps to their feet, and at an unseen prompt, the entire dining hall recites, “Good evening, Alpha Roberts.”
He stares out at the crowd, his face set in its usual contemptuous expression while his dominance presses down upon us. “Take a seat.”
There’s hardly any noise as everyone does as directed.
“We have been asked to remind you all the Thales Code of Conduct, particularly fraternization. The approaching full moon is our Hunter’s Moon.
I expect each of you, regardless of designation and rank, to be respectful of the union between one being and another.
Across Quin-state, that special bond is referred to differently but means the same thing—alignment.
Any student found acting with flagrant disregard of an existing alignment will be summoned to appear in front of the Thales faculty and be reported to Council. ”
The virtue of being a Nom, stuck right at the back of the dining hall and being shorter than most of the other students, is that I’m hidden away. Still, I’m not an idiot, so I keep my movements as subtle as ever while I mouth, What is he talking about?
Perhaps I’ve read and seen too many books or movies, but I always thought the others viewed connections like claims and soul bonds as something to be cherished and never denied.
The way the faculty pushes alignments over fated connections makes me wonder what else I’ve gotten wrong about their customs.
Magikster Ballin takes over from Alpha Roberts and drones on about rules and regulations.
Around us, students try to sit still, but almost everyone fidgets.
Eventually he finishes, and a collective sigh of relief sweeps through the hall, but then Alpha Roberts retakes his place at the lectern, and everyone sits up straighter.
Trepidation twists through me, and I keep my posture as submissive as possible.
Alpha Robert barks a long, aggressive string of words, overemphasizing words like claim or mate, almost like he’s hammering his warning into our DNA.
He stops talking long enough for me to raise my head and peek at the stage, only to find him sneering in my direction.
His final warning against bonds is in line with his predatory nature; swift and brutal punishment awaits anyone disrespecting Thales or Council endorsed alignments.
He finishes, and the shifters are the first to their feet, guiding the rest of us. “Good afternoon, Alpha Roberts,” rings like a war cry, bouncing off the walls, feeding his ego.
We’re dismissed without further fanfare, and as soon as both faculty heads leave the atmosphere in the dining hall becomes celebratory. Well, everywhere but in the Nom section, where everyone is subdued and wary as they take their seats and restart their meals.
“I know you have a million questions, Maya, but let’s eat, then we’ll get back to my room. Too many ears here.”
“Truth.”
I pick up my fork, bypassing the fish because cold fish should only be given to cats, and reach for another of my plates.
The white cake is heavenly. Each mouthful is like a delicious, reassuring hug, but something throws me. One second, I’m sitting with Orion, and the next, I’m back in my room, surrounded by hate and destruction. I blink, and I’m back sitting next to Orion.
My fork drops, clattering loudly, causing those closest to our table to turn in their seats to see what’s going on now. Their cold-shoulder contempt makes all the hairs on my arms rise in awareness. I triple-check that my shields are up before retreating to keep my focus on what I can control—me.
“What happened, May-May?” Orion asks as he reaches for my seat, pulling me closer. Then he rests his arm on my shoulder, anchoring me.
After another round of box breathing, I attempt to answer him. “I don’t know,” I admit, eventually rubbing my hands over my face. “Tired, maybe.”
Or I’m losing my mind.
For the life of me, I can’t figure out if I was reliving the memory or if another of my strange abilities was manifesting.
I wish I had someone I could trust, besides Orion.
Someone who would have some idea what the hell is going on with me.
I just want some answers, but no one at Thales has given me any reassurance that they’d actually help.
I’m tired of others reminding me I’m a Nom, writing off what I’m dealing with as attention-seeking or blaming it on my vivid imagination because the truth is, I simply don’t know enough about myself or this world to see their argument as wrong.
So I close my eyes again and try to separate the facts from the Thales way of life.
I’m here. Orion is next to me. And if I open my eyes, a piece of white cake is in front of me.
I dig deeper and block out the noise to focus on my shields, checking that they’re up and glowing neon purple, signifying their strength.
I lean into my heightened anxiety before slowly wrangling back my control using breathwork and a physical focus of touching my thumb and index finger together, then repeating the exercise with the next finger.
The quiet and stillness level out the deeply unsettled feeling of not seeing things for what they are. Of not having a clue exactly what’s going on.
Focusing works.
The black hole and frantic energy of the dining hall, which were dragging me down, are no longer driving me to the brink.
I am safe.
I open my eyes. Ready to finish dinner, then spend the night with Orion, but instead I come face to face with a scene straight out of a horror.
Our table is surrounded by a sea of color as students from every section are pressing forward, stretching out as far as I can see.
I jump to my feet. “What’s going on?”
The angelic duo at the front is all shimmer and smiles, the color of their jackets appearing more golden than ever. I wipe my eyes and realize it’s actually the golden threads blurring my vision. Weirdly, I feel comforted that they’re back.
I glance between Seraphina and Michael before focusing on Seraphina. Her aura is impossible to ignore. She might be a celestial, but this girl is fool’s gold—pretty to look at, nothing worthy underneath.
Michael leans in to whisper against her ear, and her eyes drop to the food in front of me. Even before she opens her pretty pink lips, I already know where she’s going to go.
“Hmm.” Her voice rings like church bells, silencing the students around her. “How uncouth, you’re eating cake for dinner. Can you be any trashier? No, wait, don’t answer that.”
She grins, turning slightly to face Michael first, then the crowd. Unsurprisingly, they’re all laughing and already twisting her words to repeat them at me. The pack mentality is in full bully mode tonight.