That answer was apparently good enough. Embry watched them leave. Settling herself, she took a few yoga breaths and was about to check on the status of the royal pair photo, when a frigid hand wrapped on her wrist, just above her corsage. Embry nearly yelped, but she knew that hand and that fierce grip—even if shehadclearly misjudged how much time had elapsed.
“I’m never going to get used to that vampire sneak,” Embry joked, whirling around.
Instead of responding to Embry’s attempt at levity, Oakley immediately leaned in, launching into a feverish whisper under the considerable weight of her brand-new crown.
“Balthazar asked if I wanted a corsage, and perhaps to dance the whole night together, as the royal pair, which was very kind of him.” Here Oakley waved at Balthazar, who winked a dimple back from his portrait pose.
For one frostbitten moment, Embry’s heart stopped.He what?
“But honestly, I’m not interested in stealing your crush. I have my sights set elsewhere.” Oakley flashed some fang, and her gaze settled hungrily on the nearby thrones. There was only one other person in the direction Oakley was looking.
Rye.
“You can’t be serious.”
“I’m a hundred percent serious.” The vampire sounded it, her voice suddenly much older and more assured than Embry had ever heard it. “I think you’re right about high school boys. They’re not worth pursuing.”
“Look,” Embry nearly sputtered, “why—”
“Why not? He’s single, he’s handsome—”
“He’s not a student. You can’t bring nonstudents to the dance.” Embry knew Raven’s Head like the back of her hand; she was a Woodcross, a legacy, head prefect, a—
“Oh, we can now. New rule.”
Embry’s eyes flashed up.
Oakley was smiling, fangs out, sharpness in her gaze. “The social committee really benefited from some fresh blood.”
Something heavy plunked in Embry’s gut.
“Well,” she fumbled, shock killing all her reasoning. “You can’t.”
Oakley grinned daggers. As if she’d been waiting for Embry to say just that.
“Embry Woodcross,” she said in a tone that was no longer a whisper, “I know you think you own everything and everyone at Raven’s Head and on this island, but you don’t.”
There were eyes on them now, and Embry didn’t need to glance toward the thrones to know who. Oakley’s voice was certainly loud enough that Rye and Balthazar had heard the entire thing. But she couldn’t very well cast a sound-muffling spell like Rye had done days ago—Oakley was magically gifted enough to tear it down, and anyway, the damage had already been done. So, Embry tried to smile, to shake her head, to use every ounce of body language to imbue that the vampire’s accusation was very, very wrong.
“I don’t think I own everything or anyone or—”
“Youdoor you wouldn’t tell me thatIcan’t do something.”
Embry fought the urge to rub her temples. She forced herself to keep smiling.
“No, no, you misunderstand me. And the way things work here. I’m trying to help you. I’malwaystrying to help you!” Embry flung a hand at her friend. “I mean, look at you! You’reliteral royaltyright now instead of some clueless homeschooler with first-period gym BO and Beetlejuice hair!”
Embry punctuated her good-natured joke with a more animated laugh, the kind she usually noted was quite contagious whenever she broke it out in class.
But Oakley didn’t crack a smile. And when Embry glanced over to the thrones, Balthazar’s features were arranged in abject shock, while Rye’s were dark, disappointed.
“I see,” Oakley said stiffly, her bottomless eyes absolutely furious. “You think youmade me? ThatI wonbecause of you. ThatI’m someonebecause of you?”
“What? No, I—”
“Save it, Embry! I didn’t need you before! I don’t need you now!”
And with that, the cruelty in Oakley’s eyes glazed over into the same sheltered ingenue expression Embry had seen many times over the course of their friendship. Then the girl took off toward the other side of the stadium, looking very much hurt.
