Chapter 6
Six
Rose
The crowd exiting the assembly is uncharacteristically silent, with all of us moving fast, no one making eye contact, and everyone pretending not to be terrified. Lucien has a death grip on my arm, and Soren is right next to him, his warm hand splayed low on my back.
For a second, I let them corral me. Mostly because my knees feel like overcooked noodles, and if I dropped right here, I’d get trampled by a mob of witches in designer boots. But as soon as we hit a side corridor and most of the traffic has peeled away, I dig in my heels.
“I’m heading back to my room,” I say. My voice sounds like it’s been sandblasted.
Soren gives me a look that’s half lecherous, half genuine concern. “You sure you don’t want company? I promise to behave.”
Lucien glares at him. “You should eat before you sleep. You’ve been through too much.”
“I’ll swing by the dining hall,” I say. “Scout’s honor.”
Lucien’s brow furrows. I’m not sure he knows what Scout’s honor even means, but he gets the gist. “Promise?”
“Promise,” I say, and I mean it. Not because I’m hungry. The idea of food makes my stomach turn. But I know Lucien, and he’ll be insufferable if I don’t eat something.
Soren leans in, dropping his voice. “If you need anything.”
“I’ll call. Or scream. Depends on the situation.”
He grins, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. They’re both wound tight, not used to being on the sidelines.
Lucien hesitates, then rests his fingers on my cheek, gentle where Helena’s slap still hurts. He sweeps his thumb lightly over my cheekbone, then lets go. Soren gives my arm a squeeze, and then the two of them head off in the opposite direction, muttering in tense voices.
I watch them for a second, wondering if I should have let them walk me to the dining hall like I’m six and it’s the first day of school. But I can’t. I need to be alone. Just for five minutes. Just so I can hear myself think, or, more preferably, not think at all.
The hallways are almost empty as I get closer to the dining hall. Everyone’s probably hiding in their rooms, plotting how to survive whatever Jasmine’s version of Battle Royale will be. I shuffle toward the dining hall, hoodie up, hands shoved in my pockets, head down.
When I get there, I experience a moment of whiplash. The place is open. Lights bright, food trays hot, a couple of students lounging at tables like it’s any other night. Someone just assassinated the headmistress, took over the school, and we’re still doing pizza and salad bar.
How very Serpentine.
I make straight for the food, keeping my head down.
The smell is inviting and familiar, but I’m not hungry, I’m just doing this to appease Lucien.
I request a small slice of the prosciutto and grilled red pepper pizza, and grab a bottle of sparkling water, then I reach for an apple and stick it in my pocket so it can be breakfast tomorrow morning.
I head for the exit, food in hand. My only goal is to get back to my room before I have to interact with another human being. But of course, fate, or whatever sick force runs this place, has other ideas.
Thorne is halfway down the hall, coming toward me.
She’s walking with big strides, hair perfect, face like sour milk. She’s headed in the direction of the Headmistress’s office, and from the way her shoulders are set, she looks ready to take on the world, or at least brown-nose her way to the top of the new food chain.
We lock eyes for a split second. Just a look.
Thorne’s is pure contempt. I give her my best “fuck around and find out” stare, and for a second, I think she might actually say something. But she just tosses her hair, rolls her eyes, and keeps walking, eyes straight ahead.
Whatever. All I can think about right now is getting back to Hank, my bed and sleeping for a week.