Don’t show our cards.
Don’t give them anything.
But still—
A small, ugly voice whispers anyway. Why isn’t he saying anything? Why isn’t he standing up for me?
I’ve been told I’m useless my entire life. Although I feel differently now, it’s still a sore point.
“Do you heal fast?”
My head snaps back towards Wicka, whose fingers are twitching against the table.
“I…” I start, then stop. “I… heal… normally?”
Should I have said that?! My heart is pounding.
Should I have said I heal fast instead? It might make them less likely to mess with me. Or should I have given a vague answer like “It depends”?
Trap.
Everything is a trap.
She tilts her head, studying me like I’m a puzzle she’s already halfway through solving.
“I wonder what you’d look like inside out—” she murmurs, then lets out a sudden, sharp laugh that cuts through the table and makes me jump.
Fuck. Most people ignore Wicka, but they I can tell they are noting my reaction to her.
Councilor West says, “Wicka….” Like he’s scolding a 3-year-old. “What did we say about table manners?”
She sinks back into her chair, pouting.
I keep my face neutral and return to my meal. Keep it together.
“Arwen.” A raspy voice next to me draws my attention.
The room quiets just enough. Riven doesn’t even have to raise his voice, as though his words hold a power to halt all conversations.
“Do you feel you belong here?”
Everyone goes silent and looks to me. My pulse ticks once in my throat.
I can feel Maddox across the table, but I don’t look at him.
I can’t even though I know what Riven is implying. The same thing Teeth referenced.
“I think,” I say carefully, “I belong at the Academy. But they’re not in session right now.”
A hum of approval—or maybe amusement—ripples.
“But weren’t you kicked out of the academy?” Amaya says next to me.
“That… hasn’t been finalized.” I respond.
“Oh, really?” She says, faking interest. “I mean, fortunately, you have a Council member right here at the table! I’m sure he could clear up how your trial went.”
“Enough, Amaya,” Councilor West says, annoyed.