Chapter 6
Chapter six
“That was intense,” Mallory exclaims, sounding dejected. Makeup is smudged along her eyes and around her palms.
“You can say that again. I feel like I’m going to puke or cry. Maybe both,” Finnley half-whispers, farther down the table. A long, slow exhale slips between his lips.
I just stare straight ahead, mentally tapped.
A nagging ache works its way around my knee, and a defeated war cry is brewing in my chest. I’ll save it for later when I can scream alone.
Best not to show them all your crazy at once.
Everyone is focused on their own inner turmoil, so we eat in silence for a while. The quiet is beyond welcome, and I bask in it. I tuck everything away, compartmentalize it, and burrow into the comfort of silence.
A few other prospects join us, each looking as defeated, if not more so, than the prior. We went into that test so cocky, like it was going to be easy for us to just jot down some answers. Boom. Done. Onto the next.
I thought I had it in the bag. I was supposed to know what was going to be on the test!
Wrong.
So very wrong.
It was a completely different test from what I studied.
The questions were changed to be more difficult, almost as if the answers were impossible.
The subjects ranged from ethics to alchemy to poisons.
It was so broad that, honestly, I’m not sure anyone could study for it.
I mean, fuck, I couldn’t even cheat properly on it.
It was humbling, to say the least.
“I’m so doomed,” someone at the table moans.
We’re all doomed.
I don’t know what I expected coming into this, but I guess I thought I’d just find my footing and it’d be simple. If the written portion was this tough, I dread even thinking about the physical portion. This portion was supposed to be where I excelled.
I mindlessly chew on a mushy turnip.
“At least we get the rest of the day off,” someone who I don’t recognize asks. “What’s everyone doing with it?”
I close my eyes.
Hiding.
Hiding is what I’ll be doing.
A sinister chuckle causes me to open one eye.
“I know what I’m doing. I’m going to check out the merchandise and see where I land this evening,” Mallory replies with a shit-eating grin on her face.
Guess she’s moved her sights from Finnley.
She proceeds to scan the lunch hall, letting her gaze fall over the crowd of prospects.
“No fornication, remember,” I mumble through the fingers holding my head up off the table. Emory, another prospect, sits back in her chair, looking deep in thought, her hands folded together on the table. She hasn’t taken her eyes off one of the far corner tables.
“They never said anything about looking,” Mallory chides.
Finnley doesn’t answer. He just continues shoveling food into his mouth.
A hushed whisper falls over the dining hall as some of the upperclassmen start trickling in. All conversation at our table ceases entirely. Between being completely deflated and the newcomers acquiring our attention, it’s enough to effectively shut us up.
Thank the gods.
Interestingly enough, the Veils tend to enter in larger groups, laughing and talking among themselves, whereas the Noctryns come in alone or just a few at a time. They’re also no longer in battle gear, allowing me to finally see their faces.
I was correct in my assumption. They’re just as terrifying out of the armor as they are in it. It appears they traded their battle attire for dark fighting leathers. I also notice that each one of them is still fully armed with various weapons.
They sure don’t let their guard down.
Even to eat.
The Veils are also in their academic-issued fighting leathers, but unlike the black ones, theirs are dark brown.
Only a few have weapons. A bow here or there, maybe a throwing spear.
It makes sense, really, since Veils aren’t known for their hand-to-hand combat skills.
Their weapon of choice is their manifestations.
It would be a mistake to underestimate them.
Their abilities are formidable, far more than a piece of steel.
My appraisal is cut short as Ambrose walks in with his head thrown back in laughter at whatever the woman attached to his arm just said. Of course, he couldn’t be in a large group like the rest. Instead, he’s attached to a random, adoring female.
A lump forms in my throat, and I quickly avert my gaze.
I know he isn’t a virgin or anything. I was there the night that bitch Lynda dragged him off during one of our shore parties and effectively removed that label.
I hated her then, and I still hate her now.
I may be kindhearted, but I can hold a grudge with the best of them.
If it’s fuck you now, it’s fuck you until the day I die.
I’ll see you in the afterlife and hate you there too.
A swift kick to my shin causes me to grunt and look across the table. A sympathetic smile lines Mallory’s face. “You got it bad, huh?” she asks softly.
No, but my shin is now throbbing.
Thanks for asking.
I shake my head in denial. “Me? No”—I laugh nervously—“it’s not like that. We’re just friends,” I assure her. The fake smile plastered to my face is a dead giveaway, I’m sure. I probably look like I’m snarling instead of smiling at her.
I’m a terrible liar. Always have been. Probably always will be.
She reaches across the table, giving my hand a soft pat. “It’s okay. Your secret is safe with me. Just remember, Nori, he may be pretty to look at, but no boy is worth having your heart willingly stomped on.”
Trust me, it’s not willingly.
“I know the score, and besides, my focus is on this place right now, not my love life.” Or lack thereof. But whether I say it for her benefit or mine is anyone’s guess.
I remove my hand from under hers and go back to moving the food around on my plate. I didn’t have much of an appetite before he walked in, but I certainly don’t have any now.
I force myself to look in their direction again.
I never thought of myself as a masochist, but look at me now. A full-blown masochist. Glutton for punishment. Pity party for one, please.
The leggy brunette has her arms draped all over him, but he’s just staring down at the food selection like he doesn’t notice.
He probably doesn’t. It’s just another Monday for him.
He may only be one year older than me, but it feels like he has decades of experience on me when it comes to the opposite sex.
Whenever a boy showed the slightest notion of interest in me, I would say the wrong thing, or awkwardness would become my entire personality.
And that’s if Ambrose didn’t catch a whiff of it first. If he did, he would ruin it before anything could even potentially come to fruition.
He said it was in my best interest, looking out for me and all.
I eventually just kind of gave up and accepted that I’m going to die alone while watching my best friend sleep his way through the realm.
Fun times.
After picking out his food, they start walking in our direction.
Shit.
I quickly duck my head and become very invested in the potatoes on my plate. I do not want to have to bear witness to Ambrose getting his face sucked off the rest of lunch.
Gods, please, anything but that.
It’s one thing to know about it. It’s another to have to sit there and witness it. Knowing it’s hardly unlikely that he won’t spot my unruly red hair, it’s impossible to miss after all, I slouch down further, trying to make myself as small as possible.
I can be quite good at that.
Making myself small for other people.
“Yo, Nori, you good? You look like a cooked shrimp down there,” Finnley calls down the table.
My eyes shoot up from the plate I’m currently hunched over just in time to see Ambrose’s gaze fall on me. His brow lifts in confusion, and he starts heading our way.
Dammit, Finnley.
“Hey brat, didn’t think you would be done yet,” Ambrose says as he reaches me. He sets his tray down and takes the seat next to me. “How’d it go?” he asks, genuine interest reflected in his eyes.
The brunette who was so shamelessly hanging on him mere minutes ago now stands next to him, her hand resting on his shoulder like a mark of possession as her unblinking eyes land on me.
I give a slight eye roll and pull my gaze from her glare.
Instead, I can now feel it burning into the side of my head.
“Honestly, I think it chewed me up and spit me out,” I admit.
Pushing my tray away, I turn and give him my full attention.
“I was too confident going in, way more than I should have been. Nothing I studied for prepared me for anything that was on that parchment.” He narrows his eyes, the underlying insinuation hitting home.
All the risk we’d taken wasn’t worth it in the end. It wasn’t even the same test.
“She’s not giving herself enough credit. She was one of the first ones done,” Mallory says, pointing her fork at me.
“That doesn’t surprise me. She always was the smartest,” Ambrose responds to her while winking at me.
My cheeks warm at the compliment.
“Or maybe,” the leggy brunette sneers down her nose, “she’s right and finished quickly because she got them all wrong.” She’s obviously not liking the attention I’m getting.
Trust me, I’d rather be in your shoes.
Before I can respond, Mallory beats me to it. “I’m sorry, who are you?”
“Who am I? I’m the girl who—’’
“That’s enough, Yaretta.” Ambrose’s words come out soft but stern, leaving no room for argument and effectively cutting off anything she was about to say.
I pick the apple off Ambrose’s tray and take a big bite, wiggling my eyebrows at her before shrugging at his amused expression. Sometimes the best thing you can say to hurt someone is just not to say anything at all.
Make them feel insignificant.