His expression flatlines. “None of us do.”
“Precisely.” Blowing him a kiss, she hops off the ledge and grabs my hand. “Let’s go before this humidity ruins my hair.” We take the very same staircase back into the castle. Gemma doesn’t so much as huff on the ascent, her steps bouncing as she hums to herself. My calves burn during the latter half of the climb.
“So, your brother...” I don’t know how to put into words what I just witnessed. “How are you so close when he’s that much older than you?”
“Vampires age differently,” Gemma replies simply, holding open the door for me once we reach the main floor landing. “He’s only a few hundred years old, which means he’s basically twenty-five in vampire years—so he says, but who knows with that man. I think he was trying to make me feel better when he forgot my eighteenth birthday.”
I have a hard time believing that a vampire forgets anything.
“You’re eighteen?”
She shakes her head. “I’m twenty-two now. But I think Thorn still considers himself twenty-five.” Rolling her eyes, she scoffs. “He may as well be forty for how much of a stick in the mud he is.” Rather than take the grand staircase up to the first-years’ floor, she turns down a corridor and breezes past a hundred portraits nailed to the walls. “My room is this way!”
After two more turns, we step into another wing of the castle, its walls and floors suddenly made of warm wood. A seemingly random assortment of rugs lie across the walkway, each one overlapping the next before bunching against the walls. Six arched doors stand at the end of the room, and Gemma approaches the one on the far left. “This one’s mine.” Handing me the drinks, she fishes an old-fashioned key from her pocket and turns the lock.
“Are all witches’ rooms on this hall?”
“Nope, just me.” She leads me inside and kicks the door shut, then locks it with a wave of her hand. “I’m the only one with an affinity for flora, which is what these rooms are made for.” The back wall is completely covered with plants, a few of their tendrils waving as Gemma walks by to pull out her desk chair. Soil samples, vials of liquids separated by color, and three open books lay in disarray on her desk. Warm light filters down from above, its source unknown. Likely magical in origin.
“This is...” I set down the canisters on her nightstand. “Did you grow all of these?”
“Pfffff. In one day?” She grins. “I wish. But no, I inherited these from the witch who came before me. She graduated and couldn’t take them with her, apparently.” Reaching out to one of the vines, she scratches the underside of its largest leaf like she’s petting a dog. “They miss her, but I’ve promised to take good care of them.”
I have too many questions to ask all at once, but I doubt she wants to talk about her gifts or anything school-related. My head feels like it’s going to explode after cramming all day, anyway. I doubt I’ll remember a single thing she tells me.
Sighing, I plop down on her bed and unlace my boots. For the first time all day, I can’t feel anyone’s eyes on me, and it’s...really fucking nice, if I’m being honest. “Thank you for inviting me over.” I kick off my boots and lie back on her bed, smoothing my hands over the homemade quilt. “I feel like I could sleep for a week.” After everything Revyn put me through last night on top of today’s lessons, I deserve a break. If we were together, I’d demand that we hole up at an inn for warm baths and warmer beds, consequences be damned.
The ache in my chest attempts to grow, but I clamp it down. We aresonot going there tonight. I donotmiss the way his hair curls around his ears when he’s fresh from the bath or the heavy weight of his leg over mine when we’re lying in bed together.
Nope. I don’t miss him at all.
Gemma pours her cocktail into the lid of her canister and holds it out to me. “Drink. You look like you fucking need it.”
Offering a smile, I push myself up and accept it. “Thank you.”
“And stop saying thanks,” she chastises, grabbing my canister and helping herself. “I need a friend, and from the looks of it, so do you.” She downs her cup in one gulp then pours another. “Damn, this is good. Thorn’s a genius.”
I follow Gemma’s lead and down the first cup, gagging as soon as the sugar hits my tongue. “Gods, whatisthis?” I bring the canister to my nose and scent a mix of overripe berries. “It’s—” Holding my tongue, I pour another cup and down it before I insult my new friend. “Unlike anything I’ve ever tasted.”
“Good, right?” She sucks her teeth and lies on her stomach beside me, jostling the mattress as she lands. “I need a mate who can mix me one of these.” Kicking her feet up, she nudgesher shoes off with her toes. “But like you, I’m not here to find a mate.”
Carefully lying on my side, I prop my head up with my elbow and sip my deceptively strong drink. The alcohol doesn’t kick because it’s masked behind the fruit. Clever. “Who says I’m not here to find a mate?” I ask, playing dumb.
“Please.” Gemma lifts a thin brow. “If you were, you wouldn’t have kicked thatgorgeousman out of your room last night.” When I open my mouth, she lifts her finger. “I said no boys allowed, but that doesn’t mean we can’t gossip. Now, spill. Oh, but fair warning.” Mischief sparkles in her emerald eyes. “Witches are notorious gossips. Anything you say can and will spread throughout the castle. These guys—” She gestures toward her plants—“love to talk to anyone who will listen. Theywilltell your secrets.”
Pausing, she tilts her head as though listening to something. “They say that you remind them of...” Her lips purse. “Flowers? Lavender, to be precise. With a hint of honey.” Turning toward the plants, she shakes her head. “Honestly, you guys wouldn’t be able to identify a sprig of lavender if it grew from the same pot as yours. Ignore them.”
I don’t hear anything other than Gemma’s breathing. “What do they sound like? The plants.”
“You can’t hear them?” Gemma clicks her tongue. “Pity. They like you. They keep trying to compliment your...” She squints into the distance. “I don’t know that word, sorry. Try again.” After moment, she shakes her head. “They sound like chirping birds, honestly, but like...if you knew the language. What do shifters sound like when they’re in animal form?”
I’ve never thought about it, but I also haven’t tried talking to many shifters while in wolf form. “Um, like...normal?” Wincing, I try to articulate that better. “It’s more about a feeling that comes from gestures, like shaking your head or stompingyour foot. You have to be able to read body language. A flick of an ear, a shrill overtone ringing on top of a howl, the way a wolf’s hair might stand on end, but only in certain places or a specific order—” I can tell that I’m losing her, so I stop while I’m ahead. Biting the inside of my cheek, I fight back a smile. “As kids, you run around with the other shifters in your pack, and you pick up the language pretty quickly. Other mammals are the easiest to understand since I’m a wolf, but reptiles? They’re the hardest. Birds are okay so long as they don’t move their wings too fast, and fish are pretty impossible too now that I think about it...”
Gemma sips her drink, her cheeks turning rosy. “I didn’t realize packs had so many different shifter types in them.”
Shit. I’ve said too much. “It’s not common, but some packs intermingle if it helps with survival.”
Not that intermingling helped my family much . . .
