I glance tentatively up at Baelfire, who immediately winks and mouths,Tonight, it's my turn.
They figured something out about me. I'm sure of it.
So why the fuck are they acting likethis?Like they…want me? They can't possibly, not if they know the truth.
Right?
I shake my head at myself. Even if they could get over what I am, where I came from, and my purpose, it doesn't change the fact that being with me would be gambling everything about their futures. I can't promise them anything because I have to look out for my own first.
And even if walking through the halls with them at my sides like this feels so right...they're not mine. I can't let them be.
We pass a roped-off corridor where faculty members use magic to lift blood out of the stones, a sign that other legacies have already started picking off their competition. Finally, we round a corner and enter the massive auditorium-style classroom with a vaulted ceiling where our first class as a quintet will be held.
Since our emphasis is combat, we have a very straightforward schedule. There are two classes in the mornings—Fiend Studies and Advanced Combat Theory. After that, it's all physical combat training. Alternating at the end of every other week, we'll have Field Testing, which, as I understand it, consists of tossing legacies into an inescapable maze deep in Everbound Forest, where we'll be left to live or die at the mercy of some of the Divide's most fearsome creatures.
It's supposed to be brutal.
I can't wait.
But my secret excitement fizzles, and I stop dead in my tracks when I spot the gorgeous ice elemental sitting in the upper left corner of the auditorium. His stark white-blond hair makes him impossible to miss as he sits in his typical, tasteful professor's clothing, watching the snow fall outside the window.
I was just concerned. Don't mistake it for caring.
Yet I can't unsee how shattered he'd looked when he saw what his words did to me in that inn.
I don't want to sit anywhere near him. But...I also do.
Ugh. This is why feelings should be locked away indefinitely.
Silas is giving a death stare to anyone who passes too close to us as they enter the classroom, but Baelfire catches my eye with a warm smile.
"We don't have to sit with that ice-shitter if you don't want to, baby."
Professor Crowley, my old Introduction to Runes professor, strolls through the door and makes a beeline for the whiteboard at the front of the room. Over his shoulder, he calls out, "Take your seats. All quintets must sit together. Quickly, now."
Bael makes a face. "Damn. Spoke too soon."
I keep my face blank as I start up the stairs toward where Everett is sitting. But my focus is on the wrong thing because as we pass another quintet's row, a smirking legacy kicks out her leg to catch me in the back of the knee just as I take a step. I lurch forward and manage to catch myself on my hands, but not before my head smacks loudly off the corner of another desk.
Other legacies break out in gasps, laughter, and whispers.
The bump on my head hurts, but what hurts more is the fact that I was too focused on Everett to see that coming. What an amateur mistake. It's a good thing that blunder just plays right into the quiet, weak wallflower reputation I've crafted for myself.
Only a second has passed, and I fully plan on getting up and walking it off without drawing more attention.
But Crypt abruptly materializes, grabs the girl by her ponytail, and vanishes with her.In the next second, she reappears—at the height of the very tall ceiling, screaming in abject terror before her body hits the stone floor at the front of the classroom with a loud crack.
11
CRYPT
The soundof her skull cracking on the stone is immensely satisfying.
Maven and I appear to be the only ones of that opinion. From Limbo, where I float high above the other legacies, I glance over and catch the tiny smirk on her face that she quickly hides as she gets to her feet, brushes herself off, and ignores Crane and Decimus fussing over her.
Everyone else is either still in shock or shouting. The quintet who just lost their idiotic match has gone pale and sickly at the sight of the blood quickly pooling around her broken head.
"DeLune," the professor says sternly, his brow furrowed as he scans the air as if I'm also about to drop myself from this height.
