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She shrugs. “Thought I’d teleport instead.” She keeps her voice light, casual, though the spark of pride in her eyes is unmistakable.
I smirk, that pride mirrored in my own eyes, not that I’d let her see that. Teleporting is one of the more difficult spells a blood witch can attempt, and one that has far too many ways it could go wrong. The worst part is trying it for the first time, like leaping off the edge of a cliff, hoping something will catch you on the other side.
After successfully pulling one off when she’d heard the news I arrived at Auclair—alive—she’s been determined to master it, never staying in one place for too long.
“How are things at the academy?” I ask.
“Fine, I guess. It’s just weird not being at York, you know? The other students are welcoming enough, but you can tell who’s from Radmore and who’s not.”
I nod. York academy was evacuated shortly after the Carrington estate, its students relocated to neighboring academies—like Radmore, the one closest to Auclair—until the situation ishandled.
Most of the others are at Radmore as well. Kirby, Monroe, Daniel, Wes, Beth, Andie.
But not me. Everyone here decided it would be best to keep me close by considering the likelihood of Westcott taking me again. Which I guess shouldn’t bother me. I’ve already missed half of senior year. I’m not exactly missing exams and classrooms and curfews.
And yet.
A roof over my head and the extravagances of the estate aside, am I really any less of a prisoner here than I’d been at the wolf camp?
Would anywherenotfeel like a prison at this point?
“Is…um…” Adrienne sighs as she crosses her arms. “Ishecoming to pick you up?”
“No,” I say, turning away from the mirror. “I’m meeting him there.”
Relief softens Adrienne’s features, though she coughs to cover it. Just because I’ve forgiven Reid doesn’t mean she has.
And just because I’ve forgiven him doesn’t mean the thought of seeing him today doesn’t feel like someone shoved their hand into my chest, twisting my heart like they’re wringing out the blood inside.
Because I will walk into that room as his partner, his Marionette, and nothing more. I will look his fiancée in the eye and have no reaction. I will pretend his mother didn’t feel the need to pull me aside and tell me how I’m not good enough for him.
And he will let me.
“Connor’s going to walk with me,” I add, shooting Adrienne a meaningful look.
She blushes and ducks her head. She’d returned to the room shortly after Connor left, playing innocent.
“So you agreed to it then?” she asks, her voice all high-pitched and hopeful.
“It wasn’t a terrible idea,” I mumble.
She beams and gives my hand a quick squeeze as I head out. Connor meets me halfway to the conference room and takes my hand as we walk. It feels nothing like the millions of times we’ve held hands before. Now we’re both stiff and awkward. I hope it’s not obvious to anyone else.
Connor follows me into the room, just enough for people to see him. A few others are already seated, but not many. A couple Marionettes I don’t know, though one I recognize as King Auclair’s partner, as well as Reid and Headmistress Coderre.
I pause in the doorway, and she gives me a small nod. “Glad to see you doing well, Valerie.”
If she’s surprised I’m alive, she doesn’t show it. But none of the other academy heads are here, so why…?
But then it hits me. She’s not here as York’s headmistress. She’s taken over as the queen’s right hand. Which means Queen Carrington must be certain my mom is not coming back.
Does she know something I don’t?
The vampire beside Reid has his hand casually thrown over the back of Reid’s chair, an easy, familiar smile on his face as they talk, like they’ve been friends for years.
Reid turns at my name. Connor gives my hand a quick squeeze before releasing me and disappearing into the hall.
I don’t miss the way Reid’s eyes zero in on the contact. A terrible, petty part of me finds satisfaction in that, only for a moment. But no matter how confused and angry I am, I don’t want to hurt him. I open the bond enough to let my earlier conversation with Connor pass through.
