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But he might have information I need, so I suck up my distaste and pay attention as he covers the manifestation of affinities in a monotone voice. Unlike some of the other professors who try to engage us, he gives dull lectures that put half the class to sleep.

“As the paranormal body reaches maturation at twenty-one, affinities fully manifest. Wolves and vampires, we’ve covered. Now it’s time to move on to mages. There are dozens of affinities a mage might have, which leads to roughly a thousand possible combinations of magic. Foundations, of course, obtain the strongest combinations the majority of the time.” He nods at the Foundations, who are all clustered together on the right side of the room.

Whether we meant to or not, we Ferals have grouped together on the left.

Girdle glances at us. “As for you Ferals”—he says you like we’re less than—“your affinities are naturally diluted by the human blood running through your veins. It’s why most of you end up weak.”

Okay, rude.

Bree’s hand shoots into the air.

He sighs and gestures at her.

“I’ve been studying the prior year rankings, and while what you say mostly holds true, not all Ferals are weak and not all Foundations are stronger than Ferals.”

“Is there a question?” he asks with an arched eyebrow.

“If our blood is the reason, how is that possible?”

He huffs. “Dilution of the blood lowers the average, not the ceiling,” he begins, tone condescending and lashing. “A Feral descended from several strong lineages can still out-affinity a Foundation whose bloodline, while pure, was never particularly potent. Still, these occurrences happen less than a third of the time, so don’t let it get to your Feral heads. Foundations are, and always will be, the pinnacle of paranormal society.”

My fingers slow as I type, and I exchange a concerned look with my friends. It’s no secret the Foundations think they’re better than us, and the way Girdle is talking will only strengthen that sentiment. The last thing we need is to give the Foundations more ammo.

Girdle’s lecture continues, and it takes every ounce of my willpower not to drift off as he drones on. When class is over, I’m not sure I should ask the question I’ve been wanting to ask, but the need to understand why I can’t access my affinities outweighs my concern for how Girdle will react.

“I’ll catch up with you guys,” I tell my friends, slowly packing up as students rush out of the room. Once it’s emptied out, I shoulder my bag and head to where Girdle is sorting some papers.

He glances up when I stop beside the desk in front of the whiteboard. “What do you want?”

“I was wondering about affinities and manifestation. Are there any that manifest later in life?”

“No. They always come at twenty-one.” He shoos me. “You have other classes.”

I dig my heels in. “Surely there are paranormals who can’t access their magic⁠—”

“Tell me, who is the professor here?”

Pressing my lips together, I take a step back. This is going great so far.

“Oh, right, it’s me. Affinities manifest at twenty-one. Any paranormal who says they can’t access their magic is either lying, or their bloodline is so diluted they may as well be human.” He sizes me up. “Why are you asking?”

There’s no way I’m sharing. “Just curious. I read a story about a paranorm without magic, and I just thought⁠—”

“Fiction and reality are two different things, sweetheart,” he says with a dismissive wave of his hand. Second years start to filter into the classroom. He looks from them to me and shoos me again. “Run along.”

I bite my tongue and turn to leave, heading to the door and stopping short when Rowan, Bellamy, and Drake come in at the same time. They pause too, and for a moment, we’re at a stalemate.

Drake’s eyes are narrowed.

Bellamy’s lips are quirked for some infuriating reason.

Rowan’s golden irises glow, assessing me.

They’re all in black fatigues, almost as if they woke up and decided to coordinate outfits. I almost snort at the thought. These three do seem inseparable, but right now, I need them to be super separable and get out of my way.

“Are you going to let me through, or do you have something to say?” I demand, stepping closer. The three of them part, and I’m keenly aware of their attention on me as I leave the classroom, and as soon as I round the corner, I loose an exhale.

Goddess, Foundations suck.