"The academy has standards, Miss Orlav." Twilson continued smoothly. "Standards that apply equally to all students, regardless of family connections or personal relationships. I trust you understand."
"Sir—" James tried again, his voice tighter now. I could hear the frustration building, the flush I knew was spreading across his face without having to turn around. "I'm telling you, she didn't ask for anything. This isn't fair."
Nothing. Not a glance. Not a flicker of acknowledgment.
Twilson kept talking to me as if we were alone in the room. "To that end, I'll be personally reviewing your work in Professor Tomlinson's class. Given your close relationship with the instructor, it seems prudent to ensure that all grading is conducted... fairly."
The knife slid in so smoothly I almost didn't feel it.
Vince. He was going after Vince. Framing our connection as favoritism, positioning himself as the objective arbiter of my academic worth. Every paper I wrote, every assignment I turned in—he would be watching. Judging. Looking for reasons to cut me down.
"Professor Tomlinson is my instructor and I am sure he can do the job." The words came out harder than I intended.
"Of course." Twilson's smile was gentle, patronizing. "I'm sure that's exactly how it appears to you. But perception matters, Miss Orlav. The perception of fairness is as important as fairness itself. Surely you understand that."
I understood. I understood perfectly.
He wasn't protecting the academy's standards. He was putting me on notice. Letting me know that my connections—Rae, Silas, Vince—weren't shields. They were targets. Weaknesses he could exploit whenever he chose.
And he’d done it here, in front of everyone, so that the story would spread. The version people heard would depend on what they already knew.
Did you hear about the new girl? She's connected to the Medicine Woman. Twilson had to step in personally to make sure she wasn't getting special treatment.
I was no longer Lumi Orlav, quiet freshman trying to keep her head down.
I was a problem to be managed.
"Is there anything else, Headmaster?" My jaw ached from clenching.
"No, I think that covers it." He unclasped his hands, magnanimous in victory. "I have every confidence you'll excel on your own merits. After all, that's what Frosthaven is about—developing individual potential. Not coasting on the achievements of others."
He turned and walked away. Unhurried. Unconcerned. The cafeteria noise rushed back in to fill the space he left, conversations resuming like water flowing around a removed stone.
I stood there.
I couldn't move. If I moved, something would crack. The pressure building in my chest, the heat climbing up my throat—I could feel it pressing against my ribs, looking for a way out.
"Lumi." Ivy's voice, soft and horrified. "What the hell was that?"
I shook my head. Couldn't speak.
"Hey." James was beside me now. I could feel the warmth of him, the hum singing between us like a live wire. "Lumi, look at me. That was bullshit. Complete bullshit. He can't just—"
"Don't."
The word came out cracked.
I was going to cry. I could feel it building—not the soft, manageable kind of tears but the hot, furious kind. The kind that came from being cornered and exposed and stripped of every defense you'd built. The kind you hated yourself for.
Not here. Not in front of everyone.
"Lumi—" James reached for my arm.
I was already moving.
I left my tray on the counter and walked toward the doors. Fast. Not running—running would be admitting defeat—but fast enough that I could feel people turning to watch. Forks scraped against plates. Voices dropped.
"Lumi!" Ivy called.
