The Veil captain Ambrose was arguing with before I entered the final trial is standing right beside me. She keeps her face forward, watching Finnley nuzzle the other student’s neck.
“The affection part or the fact a Noctryn is fornicating with someone who might end up not being a dark wielder,” I ask reluctantly, not really wanting to participate in this conversation.
“Both,” she deadpans.
I shake my head. “Was there something you needed? I doubt you’re here talking to me for the sheer pleasure of it.”
She doesn’t look like the type of person to do anything for the sheer pleasure of it. Her lips are still pulled down in a disapproving frown, and she has yet to remove her glare from the two cuddling across the field from us.
“I saw you looking for him. He isn’t here, by the way,” she delivers sharply. “Which is why I am.”
“Thanks for the clarification.”
Her eyes cut toward me and narrow.
“I’m here because he asked me to, in order to congratulate you when you completed the last trial. Congratulations.” She offers the monotonic praise like some kind of accolade. “He also wanted to be informed of your success should you achieve it, so I’ll be on my way now to do just that.”
He knew he wasn’t going to be here. That’s why they were arguing before I even entered the last trial. He was asking her to come for him. Something she clearly didn’t want to do.
I don’t even reply. I’m mentally tapped out and just can’t find a fuck to give.
Certainly not enough of one to give to her.
She turns and casts one more repulsed look in Finnley’s direction before stalking off. Her mahogany ponytail swishes in rhythm with her angry strides. She’s heading toward the Gothic structure that’s to be my home for the next four years. That must be where Ambrose is. It looms in the distance, a colossal reminder of what has come between us within the last year.
The Veils must be having their own celebration.
I mentally shrug, burying the disappointment.
Seems I’ve been put in my place where I rank in the overall scheme of things. I’m sure the upperclassmen are glad to be done with babysitting duties this week. The professors rely heavily on them during Asylamation week, especially since they still have courses to instruct.
Laughter surrounds me in complete odds with my demeanor.
I rub the sting from my eyes and scan the faces surrounding me for Mallory and Mayline, but they could be anywhere. In fact, they’re probably already celebrating somewhere.
As they should be.
I start walking toward the academy. Each step is deliberate but slower than normal.
A drunk Veil gives me a mock salute as he stumbles past me, almost landing face-first in one of the many firepits. There are going to be a lot of people hurting tomorrow morning from hangovers or injuries. It’s a fifty-fifty shot, honestly.
I throw one more look over my shoulder to make sure Finnley is still being kept busy when I spot Mallory through the flames running up and hugging him tightly. She pulls back, raising her hands to his cheeks as if she’s confirming he’s real.
It looks like we all made it. Gratitude swells in my chest.
However, I’m going to skip out on our little soiree. Exhaustion and disappointment are my companions tonight, and I’d rather enjoy their company alone.
I tip my head back and stare at the stars one more time.
The only bright side to today is that it can’t get any worse.
Chapter eleven
The echo of my boots bounces off the stone walls as I make my way down the long hall. Shadows dance along the crevices from the constant burning candles that line the dim corridors. I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to the perpetual grayness that lives and breathes within Kintoira. Even the skies have adopted the endless melancholy aesthetic.
The walk to breakfast is pretty isolated since most people are still in bed. The banter and vivacious laughter filled the dorm hallways most of the night. Mallory never made it back to the room. I know because I stayed up most of the night waiting for her.
Hopefully, once we’re assigned to our designated regiments, our rooms will be a bit more private than our current ones.
