“Seriously? I’m a criminal now?”
“You are your bloodline,” Polina snapped.
“In which case, your bloodline must be filled with sour-faced bitches.”
She gaped at me, and I smiled. Her cruel words were nothing compared to what I’d already been subjected to out in the big bad world.
She snapped her mouth shut, eyes narrowing to slits. “I hope they execute you.”
“What? That isn’t even a possibility.”
An unsettling glint bloomed in her eyes. “You’re so clueless, it’s pathetic.”
“And you like to fuck other people’s boyfriends, so…yeah, whatever.” It was a lame comeback, but it was all I could muster with a racing pulse and a whirring mind. What the fuck did she mean? What had I missed?
“See you around…” Polina said, smirking. “Or not.” She retreated from the room, leaving me standing between the witness boxes. Like hell would I get into either. I was not a criminal on trial.
Once she was gone, the silence was intrusive. Hell,Ifelt intrusive, being here in this magnificent room, with all its polished redwood features and tall, elegantly arched windows. The view was nothing but ocean and heavy gray skies. We must be facing away from the mainland.
I crossed to the judicial desk, the top of which was a head higher than me. Deliberate, no doubt, to make me feel small. Even the witness boxes were lower than the desk, ensuring that anyone unfortunate enough to stand in them would feel small and powerless. Yeah…I’d pass.
A door behind the platform opened, and several people filed into the room. First came an older gentleman in a tweed suit and waistcoat. His wispy hair was swept over his bald spot in an attempt to hide it. Next was a rugged-looking man in a loose woollen sweater and baggy cotton trousers. He was significantly taller than the older man and had the kind of hunch to his back that suggested that he’d spent a lifetime stooping to engage with people. His short, dark hair was speckled with silver, indicating that he was probably older than he looked.
Two women followed: The first, petite and slender, sporting a pixie haircut, and the other athletic in build with an angular face that was both stern and beautiful at the same time. They both wore the neutral colors of the Arcanus, a cream blouse with a fitted waistcoat, but the petite one paired hers with an ankle-length skirt, and the athletic one sported loose cotton trousers tucked into ankle boots.
Their arrival brought a heaviness to the air, one I recognized from the Border House.
Power.
The kind that lent not only weight, but also a sharp scent to the air. Goose bumps broke out along my arms, and I resisted the urge to rub them.
The door swung shut for a beat, but opened again to admit a dark-haired woman with almond eyes and the kind of face that artists would beg to paint. She wore a long flowing black dress cinched at the waist by a wide belt. She was the first to look directly at me, and her frosty gaze took me momentarily off guard.
But my surprise was misplaced, of course these people hated me. I was an unwelcome visitor here. Asking for something they didn’t want to give me. I respected the almond-eyed woman’s honest reaction—easier to deal with than fake smiles and faux respect.
The Coterie members settled into their seats, and I was suddenly the focus of attention. My palms started to sweat, but I resisted the urge to wipe them on my trousers. Showing weakness in any form wouldn’t help my case. This panel needed to believe I was worthy of a spot at the Academy. There was no place for the weak-willed or fragile-bodied on these grounds.
A soft vibration filled the air, and the hairs at my nape quivered as something inside me tugged with the same strange yearning that had come over me outside the Border House. The yearning to taste this power. Tofeelit rushing through me. I’d been around magic before, of course, but never this much. Never this…potent.
They sat, unspeaking. Waiting.
For what?
Was I expected to address them now? Start pleading my case?
My gaze flicked over them, one by one. The wispy-haired guy with the kind eyes looked small beside the others. There was a dullness about him, the kind often noticeable when a human was in the vicinity of a supernal, which meant hewasprobably human.
The big guy beside him, who had his attention fixed on a point over my head, looked like he worked out—a lot. With weights. He had the bulk often seen on Therianthropes, either that or he was an Ironhart.
The petite woman beside him might have been beautiful, if not for the sour twist of her mouth. She played with a ring on her middle finger. The emerald gem winked as it caught the light. A focus? It could be. Which would make her a sorcerer.
Beside her, the angular-faced woman watched me with a steady gaze that was almost unnerving. She carried no focus, but her Arcanus clothing meant she must be an incantor.
The almond-eyed beauty on the end was a mystery. She looked too regal to be a Therianthrope. Her red lips and dark eyes hinted at Haematophage, but she didn’t have the telltale pallor to her skin, and her outfit wasn’t what I’d expect. Haematophages favored leather in their ensembles.Hmm…
Five Coterie members, but six seats. They were waiting for someone.
The door opened a moment later, confirming my assessment, and Vitra stepped inside. His presence sucked some of the air out of my lungs, despite the fact that he didn’t even glance my way.
