The corridor is narrow, crowded wall to wall by the seniors passing the newsletter around.
The article.
Through the laughter, comments reach me.
“She’s alright—but leavingAstaStrömfor her? That’s certifiable.”
My cheeks roar.
I wonder if that will show on the illusion of Master Silva’s face.
“There’s something hot about fucking a deadblood, though—oh, come on, don’t look at me like that. It’s as close to a krum as one can get without actually touching one.”
“Nah, it says right here! Nothing to do with her being a deadblood freak, he’s just crazy about her. We all knew it.”
It’s Teddy’s familiar voice that hollers, “It’s the only time I’ve ever understood Sinclair. I would crawl through glass and krum blood to get a taste of her cu—”
Serena clears her throat, and it sounds exactly like it came from Master Lockwood.
Looks are thrown over shoulders before, in a second or two, the crowd splits down the middle.
We pass through the divide, our steps brisk.
I force my stare straight ahead, not at the punchable face Teddy wears today.
If we don’t make it…
A shudder threatens to rattle me. I bolt my bones against it, tense, as I stick to Serena’s heels to the atrium… and dread spills through me at the sight of the crowd.
Serena only pauses for a split second, a blink-and-miss-it moment, before she’s storming into the mob.
She winds and weaves around students, but it looks like dozens just came back from the slopes, dozens more returned from the village, and even more than that are passing through to get to the mess hall.
It’s too congested.
It’s too loud.
The air is too thin.
I halt as another master slips by me.
Novak.
She mutters something in passing, but I don’t hear what, and then she’s gone, out of sight.
But she cut us off.
Serena’s a few steps ahead of me now, but there’s a throng of students between us.
Panic flares in my chest.
I look over the heads for a quicker way to the doors—
And I freeze.
Dray’s eyes glint in the atrium.
Diamonds frosted over in winter.
