I'd hoped lunch would allow me enough time to search for the changeling. Instead, we're given fifteen minutes to eat in the awkwardly silent dining hall under the watchful eyes of big,burly legacies. They were clearly brought here to act as the Immortal Quintet's muscle whenever they can't be bothered to show up. These unofficial wardens are full-fledged legacies—I even see keeper emblems on a couple of the strangers' necks or peeking out from their sleeves.
Their presence is making all students equally antsy. I notice Kenzie's quintet at a nearby table, and they're all glaring at the newcomers. Even Vivienne looks like she wants to use her elemental wind abilities to blast them out of this room.
Luka catches my eye and raises his eyebrows, silently asking if I've found anything about his missing keeper.
I hold up a finger to indicate I'll need more time. In return, he flips me off and goes back to his blood bag.
Baelfire scowls down at the plate in front of me. "You need to eat more than that."
All entrees for lunch today included copious amounts of meat. I'm fine with my bread and steamed vegetables, plus whatever this wobbly green substance is. I poke it tentatively with my fork, certain it isn't meant for consumption.
Silas's lips twitch. "It's called Jell-O."
"What is it made out of?" I ask, bewildered.
"Food coloring and happiness. Here, try some," Bael encourages, offering me a spoonful.
"This will shock you, but I possess the mystical ability to feed myself," I inform him.
"Come on, Mayflower. Humor me."
Damn it, his smile is too charming. Deciding to just get this over with, I slurp the wobbly block of green off his spoon and immediately choke on it, eyes watering as I splutter and shake my head.
Ew. What the hell? They actuallylikethis?
"That is revolting," I decree.
Baelfire laughs at my reaction. "Good to know. I'll add it to our long, growing list of mortal enemies."
Silas also seems amused for a second before his gaze skims over the room around us, and his eye twitches. Suddenly, he winces and grips the side of his head, his breathing growing erratic.
"Silas?" I tense.
He drops his forehead to roll it back and forth on the table, muttering under his breath in nonsensical fae. Bael grimaces, glancing around as he gives the blood fae a shake.
"Not a good time to lose it, Si. People will notice. Focus on Maven."
I blink. "Why me?"
"Because you're his sunflower or whatever."
It takes me a moment to piece that one together. "Sangfluir?"
"Yeah, that."
Silas bangs his head on the table, growling something at no one in particular. When nearby legacies glance in our direction, a surprising wave of protectiveness sweeps over me. I quickly tangle my gloved fingers in Silas's hair and tug on the dark, wavy strands until he's forced to look up at me. His scarlet eyes are wild as they bounce around my face without recognition.
His curse really is corroding his mind away.
"Eireach chial, thiga ais thu'ganh,"I murmur in fae.
Come back to me, handsome lunatic.
Silas's pupils slowly dilate to normal. He stares at me, looking steadily more like himself until he reaches out to trail his fingertips over the hair beside my temple. He opens his mouth to say something, but we're interrupted by the magical tolling of the bell that tells us the lunch break is over.
Baelfire grumbles unhappily about me not eating enough as we leave the dining hall along with dozens of other legacies ontheir way to combat class. The class schedule indicated they would be held outside in the training fields, so everyone is murmuring with excitement at the prospect of finally setting foot outside after being cooped up for three days.
As we wait in the large corridor to be let out into the training fields, I stare down all nearby legacies one by one. They meet my gaze with varying levels of wariness, irritation, contempt, or outright offense—but it allows me to check their pupils for any signs of the changeling.
