Page 45 of Wolf Trial

Adopting an expression of concern, I moved closer to her and breathed, “Are you okay?”

She startled at the sight of me. Right, I should have been dead. It was an effort not to smile.

“Am I—what do you—what?” she stammered. Guilt probably corroded her insides. As it should. She threw me off that cliff to my death. She truly murdered me, but she didn’t know that.

“I know there’s bad blood between us,” I said, keeping my tone sympathetic. “But you’re not like the other two; you tried to save me. And I think it’s just so cruel, what they said about you.”

She drew back, her shoulders by her ears. Rev and Oona were in the second poisons session this afternoon, so it was the perfect time to sow seeds of discontent and separate the army of skanks.1 “What did they say?”

I reached out to rest my hand on her arm. “It’s nothing. They’re wrong—you’re not too much of a wimp to be their friend, you just have a heart.” I arranged my face into a warm smile. “They wouldn’t know what that’s like.”

“They said that?” she asked in a small voice. “What else did they say?”

“I’m sure they didn’t mean it. You’re their friend. Who cares if you don’t have the nerve for murder. Where I come from, that’s a good thing.” I squeezed her arm and stepped back. “Don’t let it get to you.”

No, please do.

“Right.” Maveline looked crestfallen, but she made a show of raising her head, pushing her shoulders back. “Don’t let it get to me.”

It was a lucky guess, based on how they spoke to her when she tried to spare me, but it seemed I’d hit the bullseye.

When she crossed the room, her eyes glossy, expression distracted, Paige slid closer. “You’re evil.”

My smile this time was genuine and sharp. “Aw, you say the sweetest things.”

I could have lived the rest of my life without being surrounded by so many different kinds of poison. Hemlock. Nightshade. Raven Eye. Death Caps and Destroying Angels.2 Plus, a whole bunch of flora, fungi, and minerals native to Lunova that would kill someone if touched without gloves. And of course, killing methods specific to wolves, which was our current session’s focus: silver.

That was exaggerated, right? Silver being lethal to wolves. They weren’t serious about that? I had sterling silver rings at home. Should I have been grateful that the necklace my dad gifted me before he ditched us was gold? Would it have poisoned me if it was silver?

Beaufort taught this class, and he was every bit as stern and no-nonsense as he’d been last night in the forest. He didn’t have an empathetic bone in his body. Didn’t have an iota of warmth in his brutal face. He’d made all twenty of us stand at the front of the room, clustered around the large table, far too close to a vial of silver that made my skin crawl when I looked at it.

“You’ve seen the demonstration,” Beaufort barked when we hovered. “What are you waiting for? Take your seats and recreate it. The first pair to distil a pure silver solution can leave early.”

“What about house points?” someone asked, a slayer who’d been here far longer than me. I didn’t think any of us newbies would dare. Well, maybe Lawrence who took a seat in the back row, all puffed up with purpose and self-importance.

Beaufort’s mouth thinned. Bitterly, he said, “Five points to the winner.”

“But Sidonie gives us twenty—”

“Do you see Sidonie standing here?” Beaufort retorted.

“No, sir.”

Beaufort grunted. “Well, get on with it,” he ordered. “And do try not to burn yourself on the flame. My last session was full of imbeciles.”

I found my name on a marker beside Rogue’s. It seemed Elix, Paige, Lawrence, and I had been strategically placed with experienced slayers. Probably to reduce any chance of us being imbeciles.

“There’s no way this water actually turns into silver, right?” I asked Rogue, dropping heavily onto my stool and immediately regretting it when tender pain shot through my pussy. Right, fuck, I forgot I got the absolute life pounded out of me by huge, inhuman dicks.

Rogue gave me an odd look, pulling her red hair back into a ponytail. “You don’t have alchemy in your world?”

“Not unless you count turning hops into beer.” I peered at the stoppered glass bottles of clear liquid sitting on my side of the desk, a shallow dish set over an unlit candle on hers.

I shifted on my stool—carefully this time—but all the ache did was remind me of the way Verne and Leander touched me, kissed me, fucked me. I groaned.

“I know,” Rogue sighed, misinterpreting the sound. “I’m sick of hearing about the Hunter’s Ball, too.”

Ah, that. Between conspiracy theories about the murders and tense discussions about how to protect ourselves from a killer in our own classes, those words had cropped up again and again. The Hunter’s Ball. As far as I could tell, it was a prom-style party thrown at the Hunter’s Moon, which was only a few days away. It seemed Lunova’s new crop of slayers had arrived just in time for the fancy shindig—but too late to get any good dresses made, Paige had lamented, thrown dramatically over Elix’s lap as she channelled her inner Kitty Bennett.