10. Liath
LIATH
Ihid on the back bench in Pathological Chemistry prac, a classroom buried deep in the bowels of Ravenwood.
Dark panels stretched toward the vaulted stone ceiling, and wrought iron lamps cast pools of light across specimen jars that lined the shelves, preserved creatures suspended in their glass tombs, watching with dead eyes.
I tried not to breathe too deeply, but the room forced itself into me anyway.
Alcohol stung the back of my nose. Formaldehyde sat heavy and sour at the base of my throat.
The sharp acid bite cut through both, and the mix sent twanging guitar strings skittering through my head with distant train whistles and one high, needling xylophone note that would not shut up.
The hairs lifted on my neck, a sign I was being watched.
Elias had twisted in his seat to look at me full-on, one arm slung over the back of his chair like he had settled in to enjoy himself. His stare moved over me slowly, openly, with the intensity of a predator who’d already decided I was his next prey, dragging over me like unwanted hands.
My shoulders tightened, my fingers fisting around my pen. Every instinct in me turned sharp and watchful, like my body had already started bracing for his next invasion.
His gaze flicked over to the empty seat next to me.
Christ, don’t come over here. Don’t—
His gaze flicked sideways, and mine followed it straight to Lorcan.
Lorcan was already watching him. His expression barely changed, but something cold and lethal settled into his face, a quiet warning.
Elias turned around and shrank back into his seat like a scolded dog.
Lorcan turned his gaze to me and held it.
Heat climbed under my skin so fast it made me hate myself for it. I tore my gaze away, heart hammering against my ribs.
“Rua.”
A girl stepped into the space beside my bench with easy confidence. Honey-blond hair fell in a glossy wave over one shoulder. Her skin glowed with expensive makeup, and her red-lipsticked mouth held the polished smile of someone who bared teeth behind it.
Rua’s memories stirred at once, leaving a bad taste in my mouth.
Aoife.
Her two friends, Ciara and Emer, flanked her in matching little poses, all polished hair, glossy lips, and bright eyes trained on me.
Aoife had never bothered with Rua before. She made girls like Rua feel invisible with nothing more than a flick of her eyes. If Aoife spoke to her at all, it had only ever been to dismiss her, mock her, or make it clear she was standing in the wrong place.
But I knew her too.
She was the ringleader from the student prank at Magdalene. The one the others had orbited without question. The one who had taunted Nuala like it was all just a bit of craic.
Her smile turned on me now, bright and sharpened, and every nerve in my body pulled tight.
Suspicion crawled up my throat. “Aoife. Can I help you?”
Her smile stretched wide, all white teeth and faked charm. “It’s more how I can help you.”
She said it loudly enough for the people nearest us to hear. She flicked one glance over her shoulder toward Lorcan.
This was a performance, not a conversation.
Then she turned back to me with that brittle little laugh of hers and laid a manicured hand on my arm as if we were old friends. “You’ve always been so refreshingly odd, Rua. It’s honestly charming. We’re feeling generous today, and there’s space at our table.”
Did she really think I was eejit enough to fall for that? She didn’t give a damn about me. This was all theater for Lorcan’s benefit.
“Thanks,” I said, keeping my voice calm and cool, “but I work better alone.”
Her smile held for one second too long, then hardened at the edges. “You should take this opportunity. We don’t extend invites twice.”
I sat there with every bad option laid out in front of me.
I could almost hear Deargán’s infuriating voice in my skull. Blend in. Don’t draw attention. Don’t make enemies.
One wrong move could collapse everything. My cover. Dervla’s freedom. The whole bloody point of me being here.
Then I looked at Aoife’s gleaming smile and those venomous eyes, and the restraint I had been forcing into place all morning slipped.
Screw this. I had spent the whole day swallowing humiliation. I was not going to choke down hers as well.
“Good,” I said. “Then I won’t have to talk to you again.”
Color flooded her cheeks and the gasp that escaped her lips was echoed by her little disciples.
“You’ll regret this,” she hissed, and the promise in it sounded real enough to raise the hairs along my arms. Then she turned on her heel and stalked back to their table with Ciara and Emer trailing after her, shooting venomous looks back at me over their shoulders.
They dropped into their seats and bent their heads together at once, their whispers moving fast and sharp.
Lorcan was still watching me. His stare stayed fixed on me with a dark, unwavering intent that made my pulse kick harder. Approval flickered there, but it came wrapped in something uglier and more dangerous. Something almost possessive.
“You’ll be handling highly corrosive agents today.” Dr. Powell called out, and the room quieted under the clipped authority in his voice. “I suggest you pay attention.”
The door crashed open with enough force to rattle the glass jars.
Nuala stumbled in with her arms full of books and loose papers, her hair escaping from her band, her worn satchel hanging half off one shoulder, contents threatening to spill across the floor.
“Sorry, sir,” she panted.
The professor glared at her over his glasses. “Take a seat. Now.”
She made for the nearest empty chair and dropped into it with a breathless apology, only for my stomach to turn when I saw exactly where it was. Right beside Aoife.
Aoife recoiled in theatrical disgust and turned just enough for the room to hear her properly.
“God, this place really lets in anyone now.” Her voice came out bright and cutting.
“Tell me, Charity Case, did your mammy scrub the right floors for your scholarship, or did she just polish the right knob?”
Her friends laughed. Someone snickered.
Nuala’s face burned crimson, her fingers clutching her books like a lifeline. Her shoulders drew in at once, but she kept her chin up, making the cruelty land even harder.
Rage blazed through me, white-hot and all-consuming. Every nerve screamed at the injustice, but I dug my fingers into the edge of the bench and forced myself to stay seated.
“Pipe down,” Powell snapped. “Pay attention. Some of these acids will melt your flesh before you can scream.”
I fixed my attention ahead and tried to focus on the professor’s instructions.
The attempt lasted seconds. Elias kept looking over with the slow interest of someone waiting for the next bit of fun. Aoife sat back, glowing with the satisfaction of a girl who thought she had already won. Nuala kept stealing uncertain little glances my way.
Throughout all of it, Lorcan’s attention stayed locked on me, pressing against my skin like a physical touch.
A teaching assistant slipped into the classroom and bent to whisper something into Powell’s ear. He straightened, glared across the room, and said, “I’ll be right back. No tomfoolery.”
Then he walked out, and the second the door shut, the room loosened like a leash had slipped.
Nuala’s gasp cut through the room so sharply my head snapped up.
Aoife stood with a beaker tipped in one elegant hand, pouring acid over Nuala’s open textbook while the pages shriveled and hissed into a smoking, toxic mess across the marble.
“Oops.” Aoife set the beaker down and flipped her hair, satisfaction dripping from every syllable. “Guess you’ll have to beg for a new one, Charity Case.”
Ciara laughed first. Emer followed. Elias leaned back to enjoy the show.
Something inside me snapped. Whatever thin, careful restraint I had left gave way all at once. Rua’s instincts, Deargán’s plan, my own fear, all of it dropped behind the single, blistering certainty that I was not going to sit there and let this happen.
My chair scraped back hard enough to turn heads before I was even fully standing. Then I crossed the room with every stare in the class snapping to me, my footsteps striking the stone in a rhythm that made the silence around us tighten.
Aoife was reaching for another vial, ready to pour it over what remained of Nuala’s things, looking pleased with herself.
I caught her wrist before she could complete the motion, my fingers digging into her perfect skin.
“Try that again,” I said, holding her gaze while her pulse beat wild under my fingers, “and I’ll make sure the acid melts your plastic face.”
Her eyes blazed with fury and shock. “Did you just threaten me, bitch? You’ll pay for that.”
“Oh no,” I said, sarcasm dripping from my lips, “I’m quaking in my boots.”
She tugged once against my grip and failed, which only made her angrier.
I took the vial from her hand and tipped it over with careful precision.
The acid hit her designer bag with a satisfying hiss, the expensive calf leather warping and bubbling, the gold clasp curling like dying leaves, letting out a chemical stench mixed with burning leather, fouling the air.
“My Birkin!” Aoife made a strangled sound, half gasp, half sob, as she stared as if her very identity was dissolving along with her precious bag. For the first time since she had opened her mouth, she looked genuinely wounded.
The room erupted in shocked whispers and gasps.
“You’re dead, freak,” she hissed at me, voice shaking with rage.
I dropped the vial into the widening crater of her purse and turned away from her like she was already beneath further notice.
Nuala sat frozen beside the ruined textbook, eyes wide and body locked tight with shock.
“There’s a seat next to me,” I said. “Come on.”
She nodded hard and grabbed what was left of her things with shaking hands before hurrying after me. The raw gratitude on her face hit somewhere deep in my chest and made it ache.
As we settled at my bench, I caught Lorcan’s reaction, his jaw flexing, muscles jumping beneath his skin. He hadn’t moved during the entire confrontation, but his eyes had never left me. Not once.
The force of his attention hit me all over again, dark enough to unsettle and hot enough to make my pulse stumble. Whatever had shifted in him while I stood there threatening mean girls and wrecking handbags had only sharpened.
Lorcan’s mouth curved across the room, slow and predatory, and there was nothing kind in it. Pride sat there. Possession sat there. So did a kind of dark approval that should have repulsed me. Instead, it sat like satisfaction in my chest.
Nuala slid onto the bench beside me, and dread climbed straight into my throat.
Shit. I had just painted a target on my own back and tied myself to the one girl in this room who knew I wasn’t who I claimed to be.
But I couldn’t bring myself to regret what I’d done.
Some lines were worth crossing. Some battles were worth fighting.
Even if they destroyed me in the process.