He sincerely holds James’s skills in high regard—but Landon isn’t happy about that.
Asta mirrors me for a beat before she cuts between them, leaning over the table for the pitcher of orange juice, then pours herself about two inches worth.
“Mine was a colossal disappointment. And I know what my father’s going to say about it.” She drops back down onto her seat with a thud, and as she does, her face contorts. Her voice deepens as she mimics her father, “Siv managed to manipulate the master into clucking like a chicken.”
I feel my eyes alight with the surge of interest.
Siv, Asta’s elder sister, is apparently not all that close with Asta. At least there is competitiveness there, between them.
It makes me feel a tad better about my own home life and lack of love between me and Oliver.
Asta lets her guard down at the table with her friends—and me, her enemy in plain sight.
Sisters often fight, squabble, compete. At least, that’s what I’ve observed. But there’s genuine hatred in her sharp, beautiful.
“Illusion is way more complex than manipulation,” she adds with a scoff that sounds like a sword being drawn. “But does my father ever acknowledge that? No, because his print is manipulation, and so it’s absolutely the most important, and how dare anyone ever say otherwise.”
The tension in my cheeks stiffens the more I fight back my smile.
I do enjoy watching her unravel.
But I enjoy most of all that she reveals how she is definitely not the favourite in her home, and that her sister is the golden child.
I like when others suffer my pain.
Dray notices—he reads me.
From beneath his lashes, the hollow pallor of his stare is hooked onto me as he brings his fork closer to his face. His teeth bite around the small strip of chicken.
The chicken breast at the buffet is seasoned tonight with herbs and oil, but I find it to still be such a plain meat.
I went with the messiest food on offer—the spaghetti bolognaise.
It makes for slow eating when I’m surrounded by the eyes of vipers.
I twirl the spaghetti around the spoon, carefully, delicately, and I keep my gaze on this task so I don’t catch Dray’s stare again.
“Teddy’s ritual is going to haunt me for the rest of my life,” Serena complains, and sinks into her seat. “I’ll certainly have nightmares tonight.”
“Come sleep in my bed,” Oliver suggests with a wink. “I’ll keep you safe.”
Serena’s gaze is withering, and she doesn’t even turn it on him, like she can’t be bothered to look at him.
But I snag on the offer—the one to sleep in his bed. We can’t go into the other dorms. Girls are barred from the boys’ dorms, and the same goes the other way around.
The enchantments are airtight.
So he’s really just trying to rile her up a little.
He must be getting stagnant again, a bit bored, and eager to piss her off just so he can feed off the drama, the toxicity.
It’s a fight to not roll my eyes at him.
Landon stretches his arms over his head. “I have to admit, I have a strong stomach, but Teddy is fucked in the head.”
A smile twists around my choked laugh.
I fight it—because I don’t want to laugh with them, I don’t want to find joy in anything they say.
