“Yes.” Nina tears her gaze away from the head table. “He’s been estranged from the family since before I was born. The only reason I know what he looks like is because he shows up once a year to ‘check on the family’ for Council business.’” She makes air quotes around the words, her tone bitter. “He stands in our foyer for exactly fifteen minutes, asks my mother a list of questions, and leaves without saying goodbye.”
Okay, so... family drama. Fun.
“And now, he’s here,” Evie says slowly. “At the academy, right after Oliver and Professor Thaddeus disappeared.”
Her face is carefully neutral, but there’s tension in her shoulders, and she’s worrying on her lower lip.
Oliver.
The guilt slams through me so hard that static crackles between my fingers. I curl them into fists before anyone notices, pressing my nails into my palms until the sparks die.
“Come on.” I grab Evie’s elbow, steering us to the first-year table. “Let’s sit down before the orbs decide we’re suspicious.”
We make our way through the hall, and I try not to notice how the orbs track our movement. The first-year table is half full already, clusters of people pouring coffee and speaking in hushed voices.
Felix and Evie slide into their usual spots next to each other.
I’m about to take my seat across from Evie when Nina sits down next to me, in Lauren’s usual spot.
I blink at her. “Um… did you get lost?”
Nina turns to Lauren, who’s staring at her like she’s gone mental. “Trade you?” she asks, as casual as anything.
Lauren’s eyes go wide. Because Nina’s been sitting in the middle of the table for the past two months, firmly established in the “acceptable but not elite” territory. Trading to sit with us in what Felix has lovingly dubbed “Social Siberia” is certainly… a choice.
Then Lauren’s face splits into a grin. “Oh my gods, yes. I’ve been dying to sit next to Elizabeth. She’s been telling me about this drama with Garrett and…” She trails off without sharing that second name, gathering her plate and vibrating with excitement. “Thanks, Nina!”
Just like that, Lauren’s gone, sliding into Nina’s vacated spot like she’s won the lottery.
I stare at Nina. “Did you just exile yourself to the loser end of the table?”
“I prefer to think of it as strategic repositioning.” Nina sits down with precise movements. “The middle is boring. All anyone talks about is who’s hooking up with who and whether Alessandra’s new highlights are too brassy.”
“They are way too brassy,” Felix chimes in.
Nina catalogues that comment with a slow blink, then turns her sharp dark eyes to me. “You all are the only other first-years who care about excelling in this school. I’d rather sit with people who care than people who are worried about hair highlights and gossip.”
“Then welcome to social Siberia.” Sam grins and raises his glass of orange juice. “Population: us. Benefits include: no one eavesdrops on your conversations because no one cares what we’re saying.”
“Invisibility has its advantages.” Nina politely clinks her glass against his, and the deliberate, unhesitating nature of it tells me this isn’t a temporary arrangement.
Nina Aldridge just joined our friend group.
I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. But it’s quickly forgotten as I let my gaze drift across the hall, searching for the one person who always gets my attention like a moth to a… well, a flame.
Logan sits with the other fourth-years, his eyes fixed on the Council members at the head table.
My skin prickles with that low hum of electricity I always feel when I look at him too long.
I want to catch his gaze. Want reassurance that we didn’t make a catastrophic mistake on the Crown. But he doesn’t look my way, and I force myself to stop staring before someone notices.
My attention shifts to the third-year table instead.
Avery sits between Callie and Alessandra, her juice untouched, her eyes unfocused.
When Oliver died, the emberlink bond broke. She has to know he’s gone. Although from the empty look in her eyes, I can’t tell if she’s told anyone, or if she’s holding onto hope that Constance is telling the truth that Oliver’smissing.
Sourness swirls in my stomach, and I glance at the doors, praying the staff comes through soon to serve us our food. Nothing fancy—not like first-years get anything fancy anyway—but bread will do, even if it looks like it’s seconds away from growing mold spores.
