I don’t contradict her. The truth is, the thought of spending Yule with Rose is far more appealing than it should be. She makes me forget myself, forget the careful distance I’ve maintained from humans for centuries. Makes me want things I have no right to want. Things that are not for me.
And yet, watching her in the firelight, I cannot bring myself to regret it.
“It’s getting late,” I say eventually, noting how the sky outside has darkened completely. “You should rest. I’m sure Ash will put you through your paces tonight.”
She sighs, but nods. “Yeah, I know.”
We rise together.
At the door, she pauses, looking back at me with an expression I can’t quite decipher. “Thanks, Lucien. For listening.”
“Of course.”
She hesitates a moment longer, then steps forward and hugs me. “Goodnight.”
She disappears down the corridor before I can respond, leaving me standing in the doorway.
“Goodnight, Rose,” I say to the empty hallway, knowing I’m in far deeper than I ever intended to be.
Twenty-Two
Rose
The dining hall is practically empty tonight, just me and a couple of staff. Most of the students fled the academy the minute Yule break started, running home, leaving behind the nightmare that Serpentine Academy has become. I can’t blame them. If I had somewhere to go, I’d be gone too. But here I am, stabbing at my pasta, trying to ignore how the massive hall seems designed to remind me just how alone I really am.
With the students whose families pay the bills gone, along with most of the kitchen staff, meals are apparently devolving into whatever can be thrown together with minimal effort. Tonight’s offering is pasta that’s been boiled until it surrendered all structural integrity, topped with a sauce that might have started life as tomato. I eat quickly, wanting to be done and back in my room.
Hank peeks out from my pocket, blinking.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I tell him. “I’m not sharing. This barely qualifies as food.”
He responds with a judgmental “Ribbit.”
I wolf down the rest of my dinner, not bothering to savor what can’t be savored, then grab my tray, and make for the exit, making brief eye contact with the woman mopping the floor. I smile, but she stares right through me.
It’s so strange to see the academy this dead. No students rushing between classes, no conversations or bursts of laughter. Outside, snow falls heavily, blanketing the academy grounds in white. The storm has been building all day, and I wouldn’t be surprised if it turned into a full-on blizzard by the end of it.
I’m so lost in my thoughts that I don’t notice the figure waiting by my door until I’m almost on top of him.
“Jesus!” I yelp, startling Hank, who hops off of my shoulder and onto the top of my head.
“Not quite.” Lucien makes a face at the frog I’m currently sporting as a hat.
“What are you doing here?”
“Checking on you.” He says it like it’s the most natural thing in the world, as if he doesn’t have a million better things to do than babysit me during Yule break.
I push open my door, but don’t go in yet. “I’m fine. Just trying to survive a holiday pasta that tasted like it was made by someone who hates both pasta and holidays.”
“The kitchen is understaffed and under-motivated,” Lucien agrees. “I could arrange for something better, if you’d like.”
The offer hangs between us, and I realize he’s waiting for an invitation. I step aside. “Want to come in? I was just going towatch something mindless and eat all the chocolate I’ve been hoarding.”
He enters, his 6’5 frame filling my small room. Everything about Lucien is precise and elegant, the way he moves, the way he speaks, the way his clothes never seem to wrinkle. It should make me self-conscious about my own mess, but instead, it’s weirdly nice to be around. Like at least one of us has their shit together.
“Have you noticed how quiet Jasmine’s been lately?” I ask, kicking off my boots. “It’s almost like she’s gone.”
“She hasn’t been seen for nearly a week. But make no mistake, she’s still here, though no one dares check on her.”
