“What’s going on?” Came a voice from the darkness.
Their heads whipped towards the sound.
Mal emerged from the crowd and into the shadowed lighting coming from the narrow doorway of the common room. Whispers circled around them at his presence. His hands slid into his pockets as he casually ignored them all.
Maeve opened her mouth to speak to him. But Harriet Simms slipped from behind him and stood at his side. The second year Serpentine student stood too close to be there without his invitation. Maeve’s cheeks burned hot against her will. She steadied her breathing and leaned against the wall, tucking her clammy hands behind her back.
“I was just leaving,” said Maeve cooly. “No point in staying.”
“I am as well,” said Mal.
“What?” Asked Harriet with a short laugh.
“You only just arrived,” Maeve argued as Harriet also said “we’ve only just arrived.”
Harriet’s eyes finally landed on Maeve. Her light brown hair was pulled gently back with an ivory bow. “How exactly would you know?” She asked icily.
Maeve’s eyes narrowed. Harriet’s gaze faltered.
Abraxas bit his bottom lip.
Students stumbled between them, giggling into their drinks.
Maeve looked away from Harriet. “Because I didn’t see you for the past hour,” she said to Mal.
“So you were looking for me,” he said matter of factly.
Harriet and Abraxas’ eyes darted between the pair of them.
“Not looking. But I think I would have noticed you at a party like this. Not exactly your common ground.”
“Nor yours,” he said smoothly. “Anymore that is.”
Abraxas grin faltered.
Harriet smiled softly. “You use to be fun, Maeve. I remember Alphard Mavros carrying you upstairs last year because you were too-”
Mal’s eyes darted down at her like daggers. She stopped short, her face whitening and her shoulders pulled up slightly.
Maeve stared at her for a moment.
“Too. What?” She asked quietly.
Harriet looked up at Mal, ignoring Maeve. “I see Roswyn and Emerie. Let’s join them.”
Maeve pushed her back off the wall with a small scoff.
“Don’t go Maeve,” whined Abraxas.
She turned back towards them. “Come with me,” she said to Abraxas.
It was a challenge. But Abraxas’ face fell guilty. His mouth hung open.
“Come on, Malachite,” said Harriet, slinking her arm through his. “I want a drink.”
Mal looked right at her, his expression impenetrable, his voice even and smooth, no doubt in Abraxas’ decision as he said, “Change of plans. We’re staying. Come, Abraxas.”
He turned with Harriet on his arm, and walked towards the party, his hands still tucked in his pockets.
