Page 51

His mirth-filled gaze settles on me. “Well, well, well, a little Feral clawed her way up to our floor.” His eyes flash golden, his beast surfacing for a moment to assess me before retreating and pacing in the depths of his irises.

“Don’t worry, Bartholomew. She won’t last long,” a girl with light brown skin and short brunette hair murmurs. She eyes me like I’m a cockroach. “Bart is second in our year, but we all know he should be first.”

“Somehow, you slithered your way in front of him,” another girl says. Compared to her friends, who are all gorgeous, she’s unremarkable, with sickly pale skin, dirty blonde hair that’s perfectly straight, and a nose that turns up a little too high, permanently stuck up. “We want to know how,” she says, tipping her head.

“I wish I knew,” I say with a shrug. “Now if you don’t mind getting the fuck out of my room, you can go on pretending I don’t exist.”

“Little late for that,” Bart says, pushing up from my bed and striding toward me. “You know we’ll be sparring together in Practical Casting. I heard you can’t even defend yourself.”

“She won’t last a day,” one of his posse mutters with a laugh.

Bart flashes his teeth. “Nah, I don’t think she’ll last long, but I’ll enjoy kicking her ass out of the number one spot.” He taps his finger on the box I’m carrying. “Poor little Feral.”

{Kill him.}

While a little too bloodthirsty, the voice in my head has the right idea. I’m not going to let him or his shitty friends push me around. I drop the box, grab the dagger from my thigh sheath, and level it at him. “Get out.”

His face flashes with amusement, and he glances at his friends. “Get a load of this. She thinks she’s a fighter.”

I used to think I was, but now that I’ve been having to spar against people with affinities, it’s clear my fights in the circuit were child’s play. Bart doesn’t need to know that, though. “Leave now, and I won’t cut off your dick.”

“Careful with your little threats, Feral,” he says, voice low. The air between us buzzes with power.

{Take it,} the voice hisses.

My body instantly pangs in hunger, wishing I had magic. I don’t know what his affinities are, but I have a feeling he might be showing me any second. My muscles tighten, readying for battle. I may lose, but I won’t go down easy.

“Ugh, this is boring and she smells, can we go now?” the blonde says. “We have to get ready for the tithing ceremony.”

Bart and I hold one another’s stares, neither of us backing down.

“Bart,” one of the girls whines. “Come on, babe. She’s not worth your time.”

“You’re right,” Bart says, turning his back on me and my dagger. “See you in Practical Casting,” he calls as he slings his arm around the blonde’s shoulder. He and his friends swagger away, full of that entitlement only Foundations can wield.

I quickly shut the door and flip the deadbolt, knocking my head back against the wood. I already hate this dorm.

If I didn’t have Ever’s knock memorized, the rasping of knuckles on my door a few hours later would make me wary. I cross the floor, the plush rug hugging my bare feet, and let her in.

“Wow, so this is how the other half lives, huh?” She spins in the middle of the room, eyeing the hand-carved crown molding.

Some strands of hair fall in my face, and I bat them away. “I probably won’t be here long.”

She looks at me. “You know, I’ve gotten used to your pessimism, but this room is amazing, so I’m going to need you to show a little more cheer.”

“Yaaaaaay,” I intone, waving my hands by my shoulders. “Better?” Those same pieces of hair get in my way again.

“Not really,” she says with a chuckle. “We’ll work on it after the tithing ceremony.”

I dip into the en-suite bathroom, thankful I at least have some privacy, and secure half of my purple hair back and out of my face. I love my long hair most of the time, but sometimes it’s annoying enough to contemplate chopping it all off. Emerging from the bathroom, I nod at Ever. “Okay, I’m ready.”

She follows me out of the room. I shut my door, hoping the magic rune that’s attuned to my biometrics will hold against any meddling. I wouldn’t put it past my new Foundation friends to try and fuck with me. “I met my neighbors.”

“Oh?” Ever asks as we head down the stone staircase. “Let me guess: you don’t belong here, Feral girl. Go back to your crypt.”

“That was strangely accurate,” I tell her with a shake of my head. “Bart—sorry, Bartholomew—was especially welcoming.”

“I hope you told them to go fuck themselves.”