“That’s right, show me your fangs,” Valerie purrs. “Good girl. I know you’re an animal just like the rest of them. You may have everyone else fooled with your prissy little act, but not me. I promise, you willneverfool me—”
The door swings open.
My heart climbs my throat, but it isn’t Amund.
Gunnar walks in, clapping loudly. “Seats, now! Anyone still standing in ten seconds will be marching straight to Helga’s office. Maeve may have put up with this nonsense, but I assure you, I will not.”
Valerie and Tala reluctantly tear away from each other.
“We’re all on edge after the attack,” Gunnar says, clearing his throat. “Now that you got that out of your system, let’s get started with today’s lesson.”
Gunnar begins talking about how to control our heightened hearing. I don’t hear a word he’s saying. I keep glancing to the empty seat beside Valerie and tap my pen against my paper.
All I can think of is Amund.
“Sorry,” I say, scooping up my belongings and stuffing them in my bag. “I have a headache. I need to go to the infirmary.”
Gunnar lets out an annoyed harrumph.
Taking that as the only permission I’m going to get, I rush out the door before Gunnar can change his mind. I run down the hallway, sprinting like I’m on the track again.
I have to know if Amund is okay.
“Amund?” I call, rushing inside the clinic.
My gaze leaps between the beds—
There.
Amund is lying in one, his arm wrapped against his chest tostabilize it. He doesn’t have a shirt on. Bruises litter his body, dark blooms on his skin. My stomach squeezes at the sight. Like this, even he looks breakable despite his size.
Amund sits up slowly, grimacing as he does. “Edith?”
I hurry to his side. “What happened to you?”
“Ah, nothing,” he hedges. “We’ll have to pause our training for a bit, though.”
My gaze roves over him. Everywhere I look, I see a new bruise or scar. How many more does he have that can’t be seen? “It doesn’t look like nothing. I overheard our classmates talking about a hunter getting attacked, and when you didn’t show up to Heightened Senses, I—”
“I’m fine,” he says, his voice firm. “I just made a stupid mistake, that’s all. It won’t happen again.”
His words make me ache. How many times did my mom say something similar? After my parents fought, she’d come into my room and sit on the bed with me. When I asked what was wrong, she would always make excuses.Oh, just something stupid I did.
Maybe that’s why I blame myself and my mom—because she blamed herself too. I learned it from her, from how she talked about it, how she justified my dad’s treatment, both to herself and to me. And it wasn’t just her.
Society blamed her too.
“Don’t do that,” I tell Amund, lowering myself onto the chair beside his bed. “Don’t minimize what happened.”
The words sound like something my therapist would tell me. I’m pretty sure she has. I wish I could have told Mom the same thing.
Amund frowns, staring at his arm like he’s ashamed. “I got careless.”
“So was it my fault when I was attacked?”
His gaze lifts to meet mine. “Of course not.”
I reach for his uninjured hand, resting mine gently atop it. “Then why is it your fault you were?”
