The chatter is loud.
I should have waited a bit and not eaten at peak hour, but I need to see Ambrose. I dropped my bag in my room, took a quick shower in the communal bathrooms, and donned a fresh pair of gray… everything. Every article of clothing I now own is some shade of dull gray.
Bleak and monotonous.
With frantic steps, I headed straight here. He isn’t slipping through my fingers again.
I spot Finnley, Mallory, and a few other Veils I recognize sitting in the center of the dining hall. The long wooden tables are crammed with students and their vivacious appetites. I squeeze through a table of rambunctious third-years and slide into an open seat directly in front of Mallory. Her wide smile greets me, and her large moss-colored eyes crinkle at the edges. “Aren’t you going to eat?” she asks around a mouthful of sandwich.
I give her a quiet shake of my head. “Nah, don’t really have an appetite right now.”
I feel eyes on me and look a few seats down past Finnley. The second-year captain from the bonfire is pinning me beneath her scrutiny. I give her a little mock wave to let her know I see her and don’t give a shit what her problem is, then turn back to Mallory.
“Who’s the ball of sunshine skewering me with her eyes?” I ask, tilting my head in the girl’s direction.
Mallory, without an ounce of discretion, leans her peacock-blue head over her tray before bringing her attention back to me. “Willa Hinx. She’s a second-year and a bit glacial, but other than that, pretty cool.”
I somehow seriously doubt that, but don’t voice my opinion. I’m here for something else. I scan the hall for Ambrose.
“Not here yet,” Mallory says, studying me.
Either it’s obvious who I’m looking for, or she’s dipping into her manifestation. Finnley finally notices I’m here and leans across the table, offering up a fist bump. I tap it lightly with my knuckles, and he sits back down, his eyes smiling before his mouth can catch up. “You’re finally joining us for a meal. Thought you only slunk in to get food when everyone left,” he teases.
I give him a tired smile. “I just need to talk to someone today. I’m not actually here to eat.”
He closes his eyes briefly before opening them and giving me a nod of understanding. He knows why I’m here. He also knows exactly how much his earlier words impacted me.
He angles his head, gesturing behind me. “Incoming,” he mouths.
I twist in my seat, and my gut follows suit.
Ambrose is walking in, head down, with Yaretta at his side. They’re not touching but walking close enough together that my stomach roils, and I’m glad I haven’t eaten anything yet.
I take a deep breath. I’m going to need it.
Standing without so much as a fare thee well to my friends, I walk toward the duo. Ambrose looks up at my approaching footsteps right before a tender grin appears. Yaretta raises her head to see what he’s looking at, when I stop in front of them, and her sneering gaze falls on me.
I raise my fist back and smash it into her face.
She huddles over, gripping her nose, blood flowing through her fingers. “WHAT THE FUCK?” she screams, her voice garbled from the gushing blood.
Ambrose grabs her shoulders, turning her toward him, attempting to assess the damage. “What the hell, Norissa. What was that for?” he demands in a harsh tone. The tone of a captain, not my best friend.
Better yet, the tone of a disloyal best friend.
Before I can reply, Yaretta pushes past Ambrose and comes for me. The lower part of her face is covered in blood, which is dripping onto the floor. Her eyes promise retribution, but I’m beyond the point of rational thought. As her bloody fingers sink into my hair, I grab the back of her head and push it toward the floor. She tugs the hair clutched in her fist, causing water to pool in my eyes. She’s bent over, face downward from my grip. I don’t even think. I pull my fist back and thrust it upward.
The uppercut isn’t clean and definitely not skilled, but it’s enough to cause her head to fly backward and her grasp to loosen on my hair.Thank you, Corinne. Those endless drills that I bitched about the entire time came in handy. I’m not as soft as I was when I entered the academy. I have a long way to go, but I can feel strength in areas that weren’t there before. Endlesshours under Corinne’s drills and Kingston’s watchful glare have honed my body slightly.
But that’s all I need.
Aslightupper hand.
In this case, directly to her jaw.
She screeches and lunges for my hair again, but I continue to throw punches, determined to stay out of her bloody grip.
Ambrose grabs her around her waist, and a pair of strong arms wrap around mine. I’m pulled off my feet, arms still thrown out in an arc, trying to land a hit. Ambrose is ordering Yaretta to cease, his face a mask of fury at the entire ordeal.
