Watched. Studied. Vetted.
If I want to retain the element of surprise, I'll need to keep pretending to be an untalented wallflower. They can't know that I'm thetelumwhispered about in the underbelly of the legacy world.
"Several prophets and healers from Galene's nearby temple have arrived at Everbound to assist in the infirmary, which will no doubt fill quickly as quintet rankings unfold," the hydra shifter goes on, his pale yellow gaze flicking from student to student. "We look forward to observing you just as we observed your ancestors prove themselves worthy legacies. Be fierce and remember that weak legacies will only be a liability to our kind. Weed out the weak and bring honor to the Four Houses, be it in life or death.”
The Immortal Quintet descends to join everyone else on the ballroom floor. Somnus and Iker flank both sides of Natalya as she sweeps toward the bar, the crowd of legacies parting effortlessly for her glittering form.
I track their movements. If they're mourning the loss of their mage, all three of them are excellent at hiding it. They look as ifthey own the world and everyone in it—the perfect picture of the ideal quintet.
I wonder which one I'll decide to kill first.
6
MAVEN
I look awayfrom the immortal monsters and find that Silas and Baelfire have returned to consuming me with their eyes. Once again, it's inconvenient how much I enjoy that they obviously like what they see.
I've never had much reason to care about the way I look. Survival always came first. I didn't even see my own reflection until I was ten years old and caught a glimpse of what I looked like in a murky forest pond…right before someone tried to drown me in it.
All this to say, it's nice to feel pretty.
But I'm still determined to get over these gorgeous assholes, so I step backward to get out from between them—but cool hands gently grasp my bare shoulders from behind.
“Watch where you’re going, Oakley,” Everett says, his quiet voice almost lost to the music that has resumed.
I step away from the white-haired professor—though right now, he's not dressed like a professor at all. He's in a sharp, perfectly tailored dark blue suit that would make any fashion photographer cry tears of joy.
What a shame that someone so beautiful is an asshole.
The last time we spoke, he hurt me on purpose. I realize that now. He was intentionally hostile, pushing me away and trying to make me hate him and the others.
And it worked. It stings, knowing they made a game out of fucking me.
I'm prepared to meet his cold, aloof stare, but when our gazes clash, I frown. It's difficult to make out in this lighting, but…is he blushing as his gaze sweeps over me?
"Get lost, Snowflake," Baelfire growls, moving to my side again as he glowers at the elemental. "I'm about to dance with my mate, and I don't need you fucking this up, too."
Anyone who expects me to dance is fucking delusional. I've never danced a day in my life. I wouldn't even know where to begin.
Everett adjusts his cufflinks. Three times. "Believe me, I don't plan on sticking around. But all five of us need to pick an emphasis for me to report to Gibbons." He pauses. "Where's Crypt?"
"Probably avoiding Daddy Dearest," Baelfire grunts.
That piques my interest enough that I tip my head. "Is Crypt scared of Somnus?"
He snorts. "Nah, that psychopath doesn't feel anything. Heshouldbe scared of Somnus, but instead, he riles him up if they're ever around each other. It's a huge pain in the ass—gets other people killed most of the time. The Legacy Council tried to enforce a restraining order to keep them out of the same room, but that didn’t do shit.”
I absorb that as I glance absentmindedly at Everett. Immediately, he looks down to fix his cufflinksagain, obviously to avoid meeting my gaze. He wants nothing to do with me, and that sends another inexplicable pang of hurt through my hollow chest.
I force myself to shove down any emotion and focus on what's important.
"Tell Gibbons that our quintet emphasis will be combat."
They all stare at me. Silas looks like he wants to pry my head open and read my thoughts.
"Ourquintet emphasis?" he says slowly.
"As in, you're finally admitting we're a quintet?" Baelfire jumps in to clarify, hopeful excitement brightening his face and bringing out his blinding smile. "You'll forgive us for acting like a bunch of stupid, immature fledglings and be our keeper?"
