They all exchange worried looks as I confess I’m not sure if I overreacted.
“He tried to attack you.” Ember doesn’t bother to keep the distaste from her expression. She gently puts her hand on my shoulder, the bright lighting of Star’s Hearth casting a golden glow over us all.
“He should be thrown out.” Amaya folds her arms, a darkness filling those brown eyes. “Arrested.”
Cleona, who has been spending more and more time with our group, seemingly looking for any excuse to be around Amaya, shifts her head, her braids moving from her shoulder to her back. “If I’d been there, I would’ve burned a hole straight through his great stupid head.”
Her eyes glow with golden fire, her stack of cards lighting up from where they sit on the coffee table in front of us. The Sun is the third highest Arcana, limning her like a goddess. I can certainly see why Amaya is drawn into her.
“We can just do study sessions with the four of us,” Ember offers. “We can toss all the boys out. Whatever you’re the most comfortable with.”
“I wouldn’t want to kick out Wynter and Felix like that.” I smile at the support, tucking my white locks back into a messy bun that’s still annoyingly chic. I miss my curls. “Kasper though?”
Amaya and Cleona laugh, but Ember’s freckles disappear under a flushed smile.
“He’s not all terrible … is he?” Ember asks.
“Gods, I knew it! You like him!” Cleona accuses, hiding laughter behind her hand.
I remember the conversation I’d overheard between Morgan and Kasper beneath that tree. Draven and I had filed it away, as nothing more has come of it, but the memory rises like bile now. I blurt, “Why?”
“I don’t … I mean …” Ember stutters, and she pulls a face.
A sense of unease knots in my gut but Ember’s blush only deepens.
“He’s … well … he can be kind of sweet sometimes.” Ember gives a little shrug. “Anyhoo … let’s get into Minor Arcana!” She pulls out her notebook and though we all groan I can’t help but soak in the little sense of comradery among the group ofwomen. Not one blamed me or even questioned my version of events. I force down the emotion that threatens to well up as we start studying the four suites and how their lower and upper cards all connect.
ONE DAY I RETURNto our Hearth at midday, just to grab a pen, my own having died in the last class, and hear someone in my room.
I just saw Draven at the flight training field, practicing maneuvers publicly, far more advanced than the other winged students. He’d caught me watching him, his shirt lost, apparently, his muscled body glimmering with a sweat that I now blame for causing my unquenchable thirst. I can’t get that arrogant grin of his out of my head, or those jaw-dropping, core-stirring V-shaped ligaments that line either side of his glorious abs, getting lost below his waistband. The half of his peers that looked to him like a god followed his attention to me before I turned bright red and nearly ran into a lamppost in my escape.
But … he was in class, and even with his wings I don’t think he beat me back.
So, who is here?
I scoot into the hall bath, leaning back to hide behind the door, watching through the open crack. Magda creeps out from my room. She carries no cleaning supplies, and her hands worry together. If she gets spying crystals each day, as Draven’s claimed … where does she get them from? It’s not like she’d see the king every day, so how does she report in?
I’m due to class, and between ogling Draven and running back for this, I already risk being late. Something so small might not land me in the Boiler, but it will be noticed. I hesitate only a moment longer.
Fuck it, I’m curious.
I slip out after her, losing sight of Magda for only a moment before spotting her again. She’s walking quickly toward some buildings tucked far outside the Hearths encircling the Oval. I haven’t had a class out that way before, though there’s enough buildings on campus I’m sure I won’t visit all of them. Despite my training, and this changeling body, I’m still breathless by the time I catch up to her, having to tuck away into alcoves and hide behind bushes as she constantly checks around herself. She’s not a particularly good spy and has to know Draven and I find those spying crystals every day. Is she compelled by the king to keep trying anyway?
Magda darts into a small building, shaded by a vast oak tree. Glancing once over her shoulder, she sweeps inside. A moment later I hear a couple of low voices from an open window off the second-floor terrace. My mortal ears never would’ve picked up their voices, not with the window barely cracked and heavy curtains billowing in front of it.
I grasp a rain pipe, using it to shimmy up to the balcony, moving as quietly as I can toward it.
“He has found every crystal. I cannot verify what they are to each other.” Her voice is clipped, yet I can’t help wondering if the frustration is about Draven’s attention to detail or being tasked to spy on us. “Without proof or a scent of what they may be up to … what is this?”
Who is she talking to? A second spy? Someone working for the king? Both?
“King Silas will receive an envoy from Nevaeh by week’s end?” she asks, and the crinkle of paper tells me she must be reading this somewhere. “Is he to entertain reinstating Prince Draven’s betrothal?”
Whatever muttered response she receives has me creeping closer and her tutting. “Fine, I will let you know if anything changes, though you may have better luck than me.”
I hear them both moving, but sticking around for them to leave only opens more opportunities for me to be spotted. Killing my curiosity for the sake of survival, I leap over the balcony’s edge, grasping it and dropping down until I’m on the ground.
I need to find Draven.
