Page 19 of Roses & Ruin

“I take it the tarot reading went well?” I say, smiling.

“So well,” Amber says, looking up at Delia with the gooiest heart eyes ever. “She said tonight I’d meet someone who’d change my life.”

“Oh yeah? That—that’s what she said?” Delia gives her a tight smile.

“Love it,” I say. “Much better than my palm reading.”

“Yeah, about that. Did she actually tell you—” Delia and I jolt when Amber lets out a sudden squeal. She hops up and down to the beat of the pulsing bass outside.

“Oh my god, I love this song! Do you hear it? The DJ’s amazing!” Amber gestures to the library doors, turning to Delia. “I’m gonna go dance! Meet me when you’re done?”

“Absolutely, be right there.” We watch Amber skip out the double doors, and then Delia turns to me. “Don’t you dare say anything.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” I cough lightly into my fist. “Although, I just…Can you put me down for chicken? I prefer it over fish. You know, for the wedding—”

“Oh, you dick.” Delia laughs, slapping my shoulder with a cookie. “You sure you don’t need help with your sexy Road Runner?”

“Yes, I’m sure.” I nudge her toward the library’s front doors. “Go. You’ve got a life to change, don’t you?”

“Man. If only she weren’t so hot.” She drops her hand, giving me a heartfelt smile. “Thanks. See you back at our room. Later tonight or tomorrow, only the cards know, apparently.”

I’m smiling as I watch Delia slip out of the library, but as soon as I’m alone, I feel it fade. Once more surrounded by strangers, I have nothing to distract me from the pain radiating from my elbow and the palm reader’s promise that if I do not go back to California tomorrow, I will most certainly die.

Ugh. I need some air.

One of the bonuses of spending orientation week panic-studying Payen’s map was learning about the hidden nooks and crannies scattered throughout the campus. A few are so easy to miss, I bet most students have no idea they exist. For example, despite nearly every freshman at Payen University spending this entire night either in or in front of the library, I’d guess no one else knows about the beautiful ivy-wreathed courtyard nestled into the west end of the building.

Yet, at least. It’s still too early in the year.

But as of right now, I might just be the only one. And I desperately need some quiet time to myself. I slip out one of the side doors of the library. It’s an immediate and stunning relief when the cold night clings to my skin. I fill my lungs with the sweet autumn air, trying to breathe away the humiliating crush of strangers’ eyes, the hot claustrophobia of too many bodies and the people who belong to them.

I make my way down the pretty stone path along the library perimeter. The fog has softened, thin enough to let me see the iron gates of the courtyard ahead, clinging to the shadows to keep the far silhouettes of trees fuzzy. It’s perfect. When the fog is an opaque wall and I can’t see more than five inches in front of my face, I start to panic, get short of breath. But not now. I wish it were exactly like this all the time.

I wrap my arms around myself and nudge open the ivy-wrapped gate with my foot. It’s not a huge courtyard, only big enough for two wooden benches, one on either side, and a single-tiered stone fountain in the center, but it’s more than big enough for me.

Sighing, I sink onto the nearer bench. The dance floor is distant enough that the boom is now more of a throb. A fresh wind tosses my hair, and I take a deep breath. I smell fire, burning wood, and I take a deeper breath. Someone somewhere is tucked in front of their fireplace, in their home. Safe.

Unlike, according to the palm reader, me. Why are the old woman’s words bothering me so much? She was hired by Payen University as entertainment for Autumn Fest. She probably had to fill out an invoice. What would she even write there? Predicted teenage girl’s death?

No, of course not.

I groan, slouching forward and pressing the heels of my palms to my eyelids until I see dancing lights and my eyeballs ache. My elbow’s starting to really hurt. I can feel my heartbeat at the center of the pain, right where I fell on it. I cradle my arm, feeling tentatively for swelling. Instead, my finger finds a small rip in the sleeve.

“Oh man.” That’s way worse than any lousy swelling. Delia told me this was one of her favorite dresses. Surely the student center has a sewing kit I can buy, right? And there are plenty of tutorials on YouTube.

A sudden gust of wind kicks up a swirl of dead leaves. I sit up, ears pricking, suddenly alert. I swear, the way those leaves scraped together just now sounded like a sigh. When did the mist get heavier? Goosebumps prickle along my arms, climbing the back of my neck and down my thighs.

You have no idea what danger you are in.

I dart sharp eyes across every corner of this small courtyard. I don’t see anything, but the shadows are long. Anything could be hiding in the thick, terrible dark.

“I’ll make you a deal,” says a very low, very familiar voice from that very dark. “You stop tempting fate, and I…” The boy melts out of the shadows, his tall, broad body carving a striking silhouette in the mist. “I will stand here and let you ask me every burning question in that head of yours.”

It takes everything I’ve got, but I manage to keep my face blank as he takes slow, silent steps toward me.

God. Night really suits him. A warm spill of moonbeam is highlighting the sharp beauty of his cheekbones, while the shadows cling and contour the lean cut of his face and jaw. He’s finally standing close enough for me to see that in this light, right now, his eyes are a bottomless, moody blue.

“You’re staring,” he murmurs.