She’s vicious and cutthroat.
And that’s just to her friends.
The moment I pass through the door and into the courtyard, the dampness is erased by a slap of cold air. It’s asuncomfortable as it is invigorating. Slate-colored clouds move quickly overhead. It looks like snow is well on its way. Autumn is almost behind us. It’s only a matter of time before this place is blanketed in white.
December will be harsh. And it’s almost here.
The harmony of birds chirping in the distance causes my eyes to flutter closed. Their days begin with song. How peaceful and naive that must be. To think everything is going to be okay, at least long enough to lower your guard each and every morning to sing.
I stretch my neck, trying to alleviate the tension I’m holding in my shoulders. It’s so easy to forget why I came here in the first place. So simple to not recall what lies in wait beyond our walls. Honestly, it’s effortless to forget why I’m here altogether.
It started as a child, with me wanting to matter to someone. Anyone. To be a hero in someone’s story. As I grew, it morphed into wanting to make the impossible-to-impress Maeve Caderyn proud. I wanted to prove her wrong. Show her I had what it took.
Then Ambrose became the sun in my orbit. I realized that all I really wanted was to remain by the side of the boy I had come to love. I wanted to fight, achieve, and flourish with him. And I’d do whatever it took to make that happen.
And there were always the subtle wisps of gray I tried to bury deep beneath the surface. To pretend they weren’t there, biding their time.
Now that I’m actually here and I see what this place really is and the path I chose, I’m not so sure I made the right decision. I’m not as skilled as the other students. The deaths this week made me realize exactly how mortal I am. I’m honestly not sure if any of this was selfishly for me, or just to bend myself into what I thought others expected of me?
I sit on a small stone bench facing the eastern mountain range. If the sun were visible at all, I’d have a beautiful view of itfrom this spot. I bring my legs up and cross them under myself. I may have overestimated my ability to adapt. I feel sorely underqualified to be here.
Like an impostor.
I have impostor syndrome.
I’m pretending to belong and have what it takes. I’ve carefully crafted myself into who I think I should be. I exhale sharply, a humorless sound halfway between a sigh and a scoff. Look how well that worked out for me.
Inconclusive.
“Aren’t you supposed to be celebrating?” a deep voice asks, shattering my moment of internal self-loathing, causing my eyes to fly open and my feet to shoot out from under me.
I look up at the imposing figure standing directly above me. The same one who challenged Ambrose in the hallway.
Kingston.
He moved so silently I didn’t hear him approach. He’s huge, I should have heard him. There’s no way he should have been able to catch me unaware.
He moves like the shadows he controls and looks just as unapproachable.
His face is a cool mask of indifference. Dark penetrating eyes stare at me as if they want nothing more than to eviscerate my insides from where I sit. His black fighting leathers strain against his broad frame. He’s leaner than Ambrose but slightly taller, and just as imposing. More so if you count the wrathful look that’s been on his face both times I’ve seen him.
“Maybe it’s because of you,” he murmurs, staring at me with those distinctive ringed eyes.
“Excuse me?” I ask, rearing back.
“Maybe I look thisunapproachablebecause of the person in my direct vicinity,” he says slowly as if I’m an imbecile.
My nostrils flare, but I control my anger.
A fact that I’ll pat myself on the back for later.
“You approached me, not the other way around,” I snap. “And how did you know I thought you were unapproa—”
I slap a palm against my thigh, muttering a harsh curse under my breath.
He’s one of the most talented in the academy at mind control.
Ambrose’s words ring through my brain.
