“Ames, babe, she insisted on talking to Oakley at lunch and ambushed—”
“I,” she said, cutting him off with one swift syllable, “would like to join your little social committee. That is, if you have room for your girlfriend.”
Fairfax managed to grin at Ames as if her request wasn’t a verbal knife pressed to his jugular. “Everyone knows you have the best taste, my love.”
Alistair—the coward—arrived just then from the opposite direction, carrying forks and napkins. Planning to use his entrance as a chance to pointedly steer the conversation in the opposite direction of this unfortunate social collision, Embry had nearly prepared the perfect segue when Balthazar opened his objectively sexy mouth and asked, “Would you have any room for me? My transcript could use another extracurricular.”
A pang of something—jealousy? regret?—clanged down Embry’s windpipe and rattled around her empty stomach. Balthazar joining? Now she wished she hadn’t been so firm with Skye. It’d most definitely look strange for her to beg onto the committee after her harsh refusal.
So Embry stayed quiet as Fairfax toasted Balthazar with his Americano. “Of course.”
Chapter 9
SIX ENVELOPES
IN THE ENSUING WEEKS, EMBRY DID NOT SET UPJONESY WITHMerle. Not because she thought that would be meddlesome—Rye was dead wrong about that—but because despite Merle’s continued grumpiness, senior year was as busy as it was totally rad.
Because, yes, of course she was cast as the Witch inInto the Woods.
Unfortunately, though that role came with top billing—sorry, Oakley—it also came with a costume gown that was as marvelous as it was hideous, with its heart-shaped neckline, poofy sleeves, and tulle the color of fresh bubble gum.
All Embry’s friends were in costume, actually, waiting their turn in various stages of dress as Polaroids were snapped and quiet griping among the costume crew, Jonesy, and Rye went on behind racks of stale clothing in the dressing room.
The first costume check went to the shifter boys in the cast, because they were nearly all pulling double duty in both the play and on Heston’s football team, which practiced in the afternoons. Honestly, Jonesy’s ability to do air traffic control on the schedules of her athletes in a way that wouldn’t make Heston’s life hellacious was exceedingly kind in Embry’s estimation. Therefore, left waiting in the hall that afternoon was Embry’s upgraded coven of senior Witches.
Ames was cast as Little Red Riding Hood, and she’d alreadyspent an inordinate amount of time magically refurbishing a crimson cloak as old as the school itself. Fairfax was Rapunzel’s Prince and Balthazar Cinderella’s Prince, therefore both rocked breeches and ruffled shirts. Balthazar had made a valiant, dimple-winking run at the Baker role, but because Jonesy understood Embry’s vision—and maybe her empathy brain also smelled the matchmaking Embrywasscheming—Alistair had indeed been cast as the Baker, and Oakley as the Baker’s Wife. Therefore, they were looking adorably couple-ish while currently bedecked in garb that had the effect of making them appear as if they were about to crowd surf the nearest Oktoberfest.
In the past five minutes, while propped up against her charming new sorcerer friend’s sturdy shoulder, Embry had been low-key admiring the swell of his bicep through his pirate shirt, which meant she wasn’t completely paying attention when a commotion arrived at the door.
A flapping, screeching commotion.
Embry’s head snapped up just in time to see a red-tailed hawk enter the hallway. In Merlin’s talons, a clutch of enchanted envelopes.
“Homecoming court nominations? Already?” Embry squealed even though she was more than aware that the court was announced ten days before the dance, which meant today.
As one predictably fell from Merlin’s talons straight into her outstretched hands, a laugh floated from behind a rack of clothes and Rye’s head popped out. “Woodcross, don’t pretend you haven’t walked past the voting table every day for the past week, because we all have.”
“You’re not even a student!” Embry made a grand shooing motion. “Go away!”
With a scoff Rye did, vanishing back into the dressing room, as Merlin dropped the rest of his load: six envelopes. Six of them.They’dallmade the seniors-only homecoming court—which consisted of ten names up for the two who would be named the royal pair.
This was somewhat of a surprise, given how new both Oakley and Balthazar were to Raven’s Head, but Embry supposed their inclusion was truly a feather in her cap. The company they kept—or that kept them?—had made up for three years of absence.
Balthazar was the first to open his, igniting the headmaster’s voice. “Mr. Balthazar Hale, you have been nominated to the homecoming court. Well done and congratulations.”
After that, they all opened their cards.
“Oh, I can’t wait to find the right dress for when I win,” Oakley mused.
Even though she was probably kidding, this was something Embry could make special very easily. “There’s thebestcustom dress shop downtown—Atelier Aradia. It’s witch-owned, which means magical perfection in silk.”
“Allegra and her team will make you feel like royalty, guaranteed,” Ames agreed.
“Oh, I won’t just feel like it. I’llberoyalty,” Oakley insisted, with a set, fangy grin that made Embry consider that perhaps she wasn’t joking when she’d mentioned winning two seconds ago. Like, she was serious. Totally serious. “Turns out people really do love an amalgamation. If you’re a little bit of everything, everyone identifies with you.”
Embry schooled her face not to react to how utterly preposterous this was. And, well, Oakley’s tone was kind of… snotty? Okay. Majorly snotty. Embry appreciated a girl who understood her own fabulousness—that was one of her own nonnegotiables, of course—but there was something to be said about recognizing your own fabulousness without being a non-Bitch bitch about it. The vampire was skating perilously close to the type of bravadothat would sour her to her fellow competitors—of which theyallwere.
Perhaps it was true that Oakley had gone out of her way the past few weeks to show off all sides of her magical abilities—turning into a bat to skirt curfew with some Stitches, openly slurping blood at any opportunity, showing off superhuman speed in Heston’s gym class, etc. But at least one half of that royal pair had been guaranteed to Embry since she set foot on campus, which meant the vampire was competing with eight other highly qualified competitors for that other crown. The odds were not in Oakley’s favor, no matter how many books she levitated behind Miss Persephone’s back during English class. That was just how it was.
