Page 57 of Wings of Destruction

“You’re seeking me out?” Morgan asks.

I shake my head, but the image of her backside lingers despite the way the others stare at me when I turn. They’re silent witnesses to the awkward triangle between the three of us. There is always a crowd when something interesting happens, to mark the occasion, to mark your failures if you happen to be the one standing out.

Today, Evie’s friends might as well not exist for what they add to the situation.

They’re not standing up for Evie, either. I wonder if she’ll lay into them later. She won’t let it slide. I’ve known her too long.

“Wow.” Evie’s hands go to her hips. “What is the matter with you? Kieran!”

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

She’s gearing up for a tongue lashing, drawing it up from the depths of her stomach before gusting it like a foul breeze. She’s known for it and maybe the others at the academy fall for her charm but the truth is written on her skin. It’s plain to see if you look close enough.

Evie is an opportunist like the rest of us.

She’ll use and she’ll micromanage, she’ll bluster and she’ll flirt, all to get what she wants.

Who am I to fault her for it?

Whether she uses charm or manipulation makes no difference.

“Leave her alone, Evie. Playtime is over.” I shrug.

The crowd parts for me on my way out the door. A bell tolls from somewhere in the bowels of the castle to mark the end of the day.

Unless you’re the son of the kingdom’s most notorious general. Or the chosen few who took on the burden of an extra night class three days a week.

I march into the hallway and take a sharp left turn away from the classroom. We all do what we have to do in order to survive. It looks different for everyone.

For me, it’s finding a way to recruit Morgan to my cause without giving myself away or getting her into trouble. She accomplishes it well enough on her own. Or maybe she’s like me and trouble finds her.

If anyone finds out she read one of those books in the classroom, she’ll be sent straight to the mines. I have no doubt about it.

Nerves rattle my heart. A vein throbs on the side of my head.

The short folds of a narrow staircase draw me down a level and I take them two at a time, landing hard. Here, there’s noise and life. The hallways fill with the press of bodies rushing out of the dining hall, and those needing to beat the second clang of the bell signaling the start of our final class.

If Evie and the others are smart, they’ll hurry up and forget about the slap. I cut through the crowd and pull into the much smaller classroom already filling with students. A line of empty seats near the outer ring of chairs has my name all over it. I throw myself against the wood.

Yet every move is purposely languid, lazy, authoritative.

This class is for the elite, or so the administration coins it to make the extra studies more palatable. Our schedules are already demanding. The full class load is designed to break us and reform whatever pieces are left into something special.

They make this class sound like an incredible opportunity to grow and get ahead.

Really, it’s so the kids marked by their family’s money or prestige can feel better about themselves. Like they’re getting a better deal than the rest of the populace.

The professor already looms at the podium in the center of the room. His slender body is long and lean and his nose hooks over his lower lip far enough to cast a shadow.

He knocks his fist against the wood to grab our attention.

Evie and the rest of her gang slide through the door and into the last empty seats as the last bell tolls out the hour.

Under the wire.

I flash them a disparaging grin as the professor clears his throat.

“Now that everyone is present—” he pauses, silently counting the heads of his audience. “We’ll get started with today’s lesson. It’s going to be a good one and I’m sure you’ll all be pleased with the subject matter. It’s good you made it on time, Miss Fortescue.”