The choke sputters out of me, wet with blood.
Around the corridor, I hear scuffling, murmurs, hurried footsteps, then the master shouting, “What in the name of the gods are you doing? Break it up—break it up!”
I fall onto my side.
Arm wrapped around my middle, I wheeze through the winding strike she caught me with, watching as her steps slip over the rug, like someone has hoisted her up into their arms and dragged her away.
Then—like he suddenly gives a shit—Oliver crouches down behind me.
His mouth is slanted, as though he’ssad, as though he wasn’t standing by the booths and watching Asta mop the floor with me.
His hand firms around my arm before he guides me upwards to lean against the booth. “Are you alright?”
I wrench my arm out of his grip. “Fuck off. Don’t touch me!”
He shoots me a dark look but draws back a step.
I turn my watery gaze on Master Milton, charging down the corridor.
He passes right by Dray, leaning against the wall, his molten stare on me.
“Miss Craven, stand up,” Master Milton snaps. “Miss Ström, against the wall, now!”
My legs are unsteady under my weight as I stagger to my feet.
In a blink, Serena is beside me.
She steadies me, hands on my shoulders, and her gaze lures in mine.
“You’re ok,” she whispers, softly, and gives a faint nod. “You’re ok.”
All I manage in answer is a thick swallow, then a twist of my face as tears start to rise up.
“She fucking started it—” Asta’s shout is cut down, fast.
“Detention!” Master Milton shouts.
His voice is frazzled somewhat, and I doubt he’s too confident dishing out screams and punishments to a bunch of aristos seniors.
Still, he pushes on, aiming his accusatory finger at each one of us.
“All of you, detention,now!”
Landon has Asta pinned to the wall.
His flushed face turns on the master, baffled. “I didn’t do shit—”
“Detention!” Milton turns his purpling face on him and just screams the word with everything he has.
Landon’s mouth clamps shut, tight, and his nostrils flaring with a deep, steadying inhale.
“You two,” Master Milton strides for me and Serena, “infirmary.” Then he turns his glare on Oliver. “You, the tower. And you, Sinclair.”
My mouth purses at the reminder of Dray.
“Mildred Green, I did not forget about you.”
I trace his glare down the corridor to Mildred’s back. Obviously trying to sneak away.
