Their discussion is cut short as I stalk over to the group of them. Lillian quirks a pierced brow as I approach; whatever she sees in my face has her eyeing the bundled-up fabric in my arms with curiosity.
‘What’s that?’ A second - or maybe third -year student asks, spread out on a high back chair. ‘Something wrong with your bedding, Nocthare?’ The brown-haired student next to him laughs.
Ha-fucking-ha.
‘There is actually.’ I feign a look of innocent confusion. ‘You see, I walked into my room and found it had been burnt. So do you know what?’ I ask the room rhetorically. ‘I thought since you all love to burn shit so much, maybe you’d enjoy this.’ I spin on my heel and toss the pile of scraps into the open fireplace and quickly leap out of the way as a gust of flames bursts up and out of the furnace. The sleep-aid oils I poured onto the fabric earlier are swallowed up by the flames in seconds, the effect like pouring gasoline on an open flame.
‘Holy shit!’ one of them yells.
‘My pants!’ Something clatters to the floor. ‘They’re on fire!’
‘Put it out! Hurry the fuck up, it’s spreading,’ another shouts.
The last thing I hear before I dart out of the stone entryway is Lillian’s throaty laugh.
With a smile on my face and adrenaline pumping through my veins, I pull the black hood over my head and tuck my hands into the front pockets of my jacket. I quickly walk past the dais, hoping that I can get in and out of where I need to go without being noticed.
My stomach growls, rumbling in hunger. I haven’t eaten since I arrived and I’m finally starting to feel the effects of it. I head toward a set of double doors to the left of Malachite’s gate. I didn’t notice them during the ceremony because they had been closed. That, and my mind wassomewhatoccupied.
The door is heavy as I slip quietly inside. Loud chatter assaults my ears from every direction. The last vestiges of sunlight peek through the large windows on either side of the room, but it’s the brass chandeliers that hang from the ceiling illuminating most of the dining hall. The candles nestled among the curves and bends of metal cast a soft glow that flickers every so often.
Beneath those chandeliers are three long tables. At first, I assume there is one table for each unit, but I quickly notice that no one seems to stick to just one side. Instead, students are milling around, moving back and forth. I spot a girl I know to be in Opal sitting beside another student in a green shirt much like the one I’m wearing beneath my jacket. The Opal student sends a blast of water from her palm across the table toward another student, causing him to fall off his seat. His entire front is saturated, as is his face which crinkles in amusement as he pulls himself back into his chair.
At the far end of the room lies another large table, running horizontal to the rest of them. This table is piled high with silver dishes of bread rolls, meats and something that smells so sweet it makes my mouth water.
My parents are good cooks, especially my mother. But I don’t think I’ve ever smelledthiscoming from the kitchen at home.
I make my way further into the room, keeping my head down and feeling very conscious of any eyes that flit to me in between conversations.I make it to the food table and stuff two bread rolls into my pockets, before grabbing a handful of grapes, popping one into my mouth. Then, because it just smells too good, I snatch a piece of glazed ham that practically melts on my tongue as I hurry back through the doors.
The rich flavour of the ham is still dancing on my tastebuds when I make it back into the Grand Hall. I would have liked to have filled a plate, but sitting in there among everyone else wasn’t something I wanted to subject myself to. I’ll make do with my bread rolls and grapes, for now.
The wind is chilly outside, but that doesn’t stop me from walking across the lawn, further away from the academy where I hope to find some peace and quiet. I go past the Training Centre, toward the sound of waves crashing against rocks. The ocean is loud and roaring in the distance, and once I spot a crop of trees, I head over to them.
A gust of wind catches in my hood, flipping it off my head and tousling the loose strands of my hair around my face. I settle down at the base of one of the trees and lean my back against its rough trunk, taking out my bread rolls to start pulling them apart with my fingers.
I listen to the thundering crash and hiss of the waves below as I eat. The setting sun bleeds colours across the horizon, warm tangerine to soft crimson. Once I finish eating, my arms wrap around myself and I watch as the sun slowly disappears, the warm hues getting swallowed up by the cool blue and grey tones of the moon’s ascent.
Just as I feel myself relaxing and being able to breathe a little easier, a voice behind me interrupts.
TEN
‘What are you doing out here?’
My chest feels like it’s about to cave in at the sound of his voice. It’s gruff and sharp, like the edge of a blade. I rise on shaky legs, my hand snapping out for the tree, using it to steady myself as my left foot gets tangled on a thick winding root.
Sebastian is wearing the standard Malachite uniform: a dark green long -sleeve top, black training trousers and lace-up combat boots. This is the first time we’ve been alone since I arrived. A torrent of emotions builds beneath my skin as I step away from the tree to face him.
‘It’s none of your business,’ I say defensively, wondering how he found me out here.Did he follow me?
‘Considering I’m your unit leader, I’d say itismy business to know why one of my acolytes is out here by herself.’
I laugh. Actually laugh. It’s loud and harsh against the quiet among the trees and crisp gusts of wind. ‘I thought you said I wasn’t a Malachite. “She’s not one of us.”’ I say in a mocking tone. ‘Which is it, Sebastian? Am I part of your unit or not?’
‘If it were my choice, you wouldn’t be,’ he growls, stepping forward with those long, thick legs of his. He doesn’t stop until he’s right in my face, scowling down at me. ‘You’d have been sent home the second you stepped foot on ValAc’s soil if it were up to me.’
My hands shove at his hard chest as he invades my space. But he doesn’t budge, and suddenly I’m taken back to when Harley had his hands on me, and I couldn’t fight him off.
‘If it were up tome,’ I snap, ‘my brother would have been sent home the second hediedon ValAc’s soil. But we don’t always get what we want, do we?’
