Prejudice and Pride (Passing Through Cafe #5)

Den of Vipers

Chapter one

Cya

Cya prepared for school the way soldiers prepped for war.

Their armor wasn’t made of Kevlar but of delicate gold chains and shimmering stones.

Their plan of attack was confidence and general aloofness.

They didn’t carry physical weapons, but their withering gaze and family name were enough to stop enemies in their tracks.

Most of the time, at least.

Their survival strategy did not, however, protect from the rumors—that weren’t really rumors because rumors were usually false.

No, those whispers skated over their skin like spyden legs, but they were accustomed to pointed words hiding behind subterfuge.

Cya had been squeezing through them their whole life, hoping they didn’t leave a lasting impression that forever changed their shape.

If they’d been raised anyone but a Vysov, they may have cowered under the hushed, hissed insults aimed at their back where their armor was weakest. But they were a Vysov, so they held their head high, eyes forward, shoulders square, spine straight, above it all.

They would not cower. They would not bend. They would not break. Because they were Cylene Zoia Vysov, and they were godsdamned untouchable.

Ready for the minefield ahead, Cya made themself comfortable in the back of the sedan and stared out the window at the passing scenery of front gates, mansions surrounded by walls or fences, and impeccably gardened grounds.

Everything in Pride was so perfect on the outside, whitewashed and pristine to cover the ugliness within.

Must have been why they felt at home here; they fit the bill flawlessly.

“Your parents will be weekending at the Envy Wellness Center,” Hemersyn said from the driver’s seat, pulling Cya from their dour thoughts. “Shall I reserve you a room as well? I hear they offer a new scale exfoliation treatment.”

Of course their parents couldn’t be bothered to invite them along themselves. They probably hadn’t even asked Hemersyn to invite Cya to accompany them to the spa at all; he was doing it of his own accord. Because he, more so than their own parents, actually seemed to care about them.

Hemersyn McKhaw was an Avia in his fifties, hired into the family to run the household before Cya had even hatched.

Growing up, he had been the one to help them with homework, teach them etiquette, and sit by their sickbed when they were ill.

He had their back when they argued with their parents, and he kept their secrets.

He was more than a butler or a driver; he was their friend. In a den of vipers, he was their only ally, and they adored him.

Meeting his gaze in the rearview mirror, Cya crossed their arms over their chest. “You speak as if they want me there with them.”

“They would be lucky to have your company.” He winked, neither of them acknowledging the way he didn’t disagree with Cya’s claim.

Since they didn’t want to dwell on the way that smarted, they shot Hemersyn an arched eyebrow. “Flattery only works when there is a kernel of truth to it, or if the recipient is too stupid to recognize the lie. Neither is applicable here.”

His feathered brows furrowed. “Come now. You don’t wear self-deprecation well, my dear.”

Cya smiled wryly and looked away. “I wear everything well.”

Instead of gracing that with a reply, he snorted. “I assume you do not wish to join them?”

“You assume correctly.”

As he guided the car to a stop near the campus entrance of Pride University, he put it in Park and half-turned to pin Cya to the back seat with his beady stare. “Is it too much to hope your refusal is due to other social plans? With friends? Or a date perhaps?”

With a scowl, Cya grabbed their purse and computer bag and made to leave the car. “Keep your beaked nose out of my personal life, old man.”

“Spoiled brat,” he chirped as they stood and hooked their computer bag over their shoulder.

Bending low enough to smirk at the Avia through the still open car door, Cya said, “Well, you raised me, so whose fault is that?”

“Get on with you,” he harrumphed as he faced forward in his seat, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like, “pain in my feathered ass,” under his breath.

Cya straightened and shut the door, still smiling as they headed toward the mathematics and science building. The campus was small compared to other universities within the Pentagram thanks to the extremely selective acceptance rate. Only the best attended Pride University.

Well, mostly the best. Or the most wealthy. Or the nepo-babies of alumni. Or those with connections.

Okay, fine, the school was ripe with privileged under-achievers whose parents had bought their way in, but not Cya.

They had been accepted because they’d earned it.

Sure, their Vysov name had given them an edge, perhaps, but they had worked their tail off in secondary and graduated top of their class, with a perfect GPA—well, near perfect, but really, who actually excelled at maths?

The entire subject could go fuck itself as far as they were concerned.

A weight landed on the tip of Cya’s tail, jerking them to an abrupt—and painful—stop, and they nearly fell.

Clutching their computer bag to their chest to keep from dropping the expensive electronics to the pavement, they managed to stay upright.

Their purse, however, was a lost cause, and its contents spilled out over the sidewalk as the students surrounding them froze to watch.

Spinning around, they glared at the pastel, gumdrop-colored Spryte who had stepped on their tail. Niki smirked as she removed her high-heeled foot from the thinnest part right above their rattle. She took a few scales with her, and she made a noise of disgust, as if they had dirtied her somehow.

“Oops, sorry, Vysov,” she said with far too much innocence. “It was an accident.”

The people with her smothered laughter, and Cya shook their rattle in warning, peeling back their lips to flash fang.

Unimpressed by the threat, the group—consisting of several people they had called friends once upon a time—walked past them, right over their purse and belongings.

Something crunched under the numerous feet, and Cya winced as they coiled their tail beneath them and lowered to the sidewalk to pick up the mess.

Embarrassment burned their cheeks, but they kept their expression blank as they gathered their belongings and shoved them back into their purse.

Scattered on the pavement, they found the pieces of the delicate gold bracelet they had spent the last few weeks creating.

The moss agate gemstones were unharmed, but the twisted braids of gold they’d painstakingly molded had been snapped in several places.

Furious tears burned their eyes, but they refused to let them gather. It was just a bracelet. It didn’t matter. None of this mattered.

Rising from the ground, they hooked their purse over one shoulder and secured their computer bag across their chest. To ensure no one stepped on their tail again, they locked their muscles to remain as upright as they could—the unipedal version of walking on their tip-toes—keeping their tail as short as possible without compromising their balance.

It made their muscles ache, but they pushed through the discomfort.

They hadn’t always been a pariah. Before Kent—their asshole ex—they had even been popular.

Niki, and half the people she surrounded herself with now, had been Cya’s friends first. Niki was only queen bitch because Cya had welcomed her to their group to begin with, and in return, she had usurped Cya the moment they had fallen from grace.

It should hardly have surprised them, really. Niki taking Cya’s boyfriend—ex-boyfriend—had been a step too far, in their opinion, but Kent was the reason they were even in this mess to begin with, so maybe he and Niki deserved each other.

At the entrance to the STEM building, a group of athletes were playing hackysack while their admirers stood to the side and fawned over them.

There were very few Mammylion students at P.U.

, given the systemic speciesism and discrimination that ran rampant within the admissions committee, but the few that made it in usually did so under athletic scholarships.

The sports programs in Pride were rather abysmal, and the only reason their schools ever ranked was because of students brought in from other districts to play for their teams, including the group playing hackysack.

Three Lupyns, a Vixyn, a Nyko, and a Bovyn.

All athletic, all muscular, all sporting hoodies with “Pride University Dyscus” scrawled on their backs along with player numbers.

Their groupies watched the game, clapping and giggling like idiots.

Anywhere outside the context of school, those same Pride socialites would never gush over a Mammylion, but here, the athletes were welcomed, admired, and probably even fetishized.

How easily prejudice could be brushed aside when the person was talented or attractive enough.

It was disgusting. Not because Cya believed the Mammylions were beneath them or unworthy of admiration.

They had before; they could admit it to themself.

They had grown up believing all manner of bullshit bigotry, but they were trying to unlearn it.

Now that they knew what it felt like to be an outcast, they didn’t want to make anyone else feel this way ever again.

No, it was disgusting because they knew most of those groupies would never be caught dead interacting with these athletes in front of their parents or out in Pride society.

They’d hook up in secret, just to say they slummed it with a Lust Nyko, but out in the real world, they’d look down their noses at them.

In the deepest, most selfish parts of themself, Cya could also admit that they were downright jealous.

Jealous that these athletes were so readily accepted by their peers when they themself were shunned.

All because they’d trusted a boy once, and that boy had taken one look at them, at their abnormality, and told the whole school about the freak with the fucked-up genitals.

The Vixyn kicked the hackysack too hard, and the bag full of sand rolled to a stop near the sidewalk where Cya had stopped, lost in their thoughts.

A Lupyn with creamy blond fur, a backwards red ballcap, and gym shorts jogged over to retrieve it.

Cya recognized him immediately, like they had recognized him at the Passing Through Cafe where he’d interviewed for a job earlier that week.

Expression alight with recognition, he grinned as he crouched down to retrieve the hackysack. “Hey, I know you.”

With a shake of their head, they said, “No, you don’t.”

“I don’t?” he asked as he straightened to his full height.

If Cya was standing more comfortably, they would have been shorter than him, but since they were holding themself higher, they were slightly taller. However, given his muscled physique and broad shoulders, he still felt bigger, like he was taking up all the surrounding space, crowding them in.

“Yo, Dex! C’mon, man, class is gonna start soon,” the Nyko called out, and the Lupyn—Dex—turned to wave her off.

Cya took his distraction as an opportunity to escape and hurried up the ramp, slipping through the entrance doors as Dex shouted after them. “Wait, where—I guess we’ll catch up later.”

Oh, they most certainly would not. They didn’t know much about the Lupyn, but they knew enough.

He was a clueless idiot who’d only been accepted to Pride University because of his athletic prowess in dyscus.

He laughed too loud and smiled too wide, and he ate up the attention the girls—and some guys—gave him.

Thankfully, they only shared one class with him, and just because Glyma had hired him at the cafe didn’t mean Cya had to talk to him. Or be nice to him. Or acknowledge his existence in any way.

They had enough problems; they didn’t need an annoying, showboating jock making their university experience more difficult than it already was. Dex had his group of athletic friends and admirers, and Cya had… themself. And that was how it would stay.

Cya would make sure of it.