Page 53 of In Prey We Trust

Once I got to Costuming, Chess had assignments already handed out, but he’d kept one for me. Our costuming and set design courses are running parallel to the productions for my other classes, so we’ve got basic ideas of what we’ll need to start despite the casting not being finalized. I flipped through my assignments based on the #Viral play, noting which characters I would have to schedule fittings with, then worked on my designs quietly. In Chess’ classes, no one bothered me or any other students—everyone worked and only looked up to get help.

Talk about knowing how to wrangle a group of students—he didn’t raise his voice once.

My gentle knight pulled me aside before I left the stage after set design, kissing me breathless. Together, we chuckled about rewarding Fitz for helping Rufus, then I reluctantly walked outside to find a new escort waiting. Surprisingly, this time it’s Raina and she’s all smiles.

“Miss Dolly!” She hugs me tight before we start towards the dreaded tunnel. “I’ve missed seeing you, but the Captain says your fluffle takes most meals in your nest.”

I blink at her in confusion as I hold my badge up to the scanner and we head inside. “My what?”

The raccoon tilts her head at me. “Your fluffle, Miss Dolly. That is what a family group of bunnies is called. Did you not know that?”

Of course not. I’m as ignorant of prey shit as I am pred shit. Fucking Lucille.

“No, I didn’t. The guys have been arguing over whether it’s an ambush or a clutch or a clash. Mostly, I ignore their chest beating,” I admit with a rueful grin. “Terms don’t matter much to me; having people with care about me is the most important thing.”

“Aye, that’s true. But, if I may say so, you're the Queen of that group, Miss Dolly. It should be called your term, not theirs.” She waits for me to scan us out of the tunnel and I realize she managed to distract me from my nervousness about this stupid tube with ease. “The Captain may refer to us as his crew in public, but I assure, it’s my gaze in private.”

Now I’ve learned two things within a span of minutes from my masked friend.

“Raina?” I ask as we start across the green.

“Yes, Miss Dolly?”

I look at her seriously. “One, please just call me Dolly. You’re my friend, not my servant. Two, can I ask you about prey things sometimes? I mean, I know I’m only sort of prey and we don’t know why but… I feel like I know nothing about either side of me. It’s dangerous.”

Her face lights up and she nods enthusiastically. “You absolutely can! I’d be honored, Mi--Dolly. In fact, I can make up cards like the ones Miss Cori gave my men for your history classes.”

“I appreciate it, Raina. I’m so glad we became friends in the cafeteria last year—truly. You’ve been amazing and I haven’t taken the time to thank you properly.”

We stop in front of the academic building and the raccoon puffs up happily. “You don’t owe me anything. You and Monsieur Renard are the kindest preds we know. My gaze will always be loyal to your fluffle.” She stops and snaps her small fingers, then digs in her apron until she finds a card. “Oh! I’m supposed to ask a question. Let’s see… ‘what was the cause of the Great Divide?’ That’s an easy one, Dolly.”

I frown, wondering if the prey are taught different answers than us. “The Great Divide was when shifters and magic users stopped interacting. Magic users were abusing their powers to gain control over many powerful shifters and their families, so we fought until they were forced to go into hiding.”

Raina raises a brow, her expression curious, then she flips the card to verify my answer. “Is that what they teach you?”

“Yes?” I reply as I watch her. Her head shakes slowly and she shrugs. “Is it wrong?”

“Maybe not wrong, Dolly, but certainly not accurate. We’re taught a much more global picture in our schools, I’m afraid.” Her gaze turns fearful as she looks around. “But perhaps we should discuss that at another time.”

“Got it.” I force a smile and give her a little wave, climbing the steps to head up to Shifter History. The information that the Council is serving us history written by the ‘winners’ isn’t news, but I wonder how much the ignorance preds have about their real history is coming to roost with weird ass magic people blowing up one of our schools.

The main question is: why the fuck now? What kicked this shit off after hundreds of years of nothing?

I don’t have that answer, so I just head into class with a frown.

“That’s another mark, Miss Drew. How you survived your first year in that hellhole you transferred from is beyond me,” Herr Blitzen sneers. His huge body is straining the seams of his dark suit, but unlike my kind dragon, he looks like a stocky goon.

In fact, he looks like someone Bruno would employ. Gross.

Pursing my lips, I force myself to grind out an apology—again—as the rest of the class snickers. Most of these ‘children of famous people’ don’t know the answers, either, but they’re happy for him to pick on me. The Heathers use it to call out nasty barbs and because the Cappie kids are self-absorbed assholes, they laugh at that, too. Ignoring all of them at once has become the gauntlet I use to meditate away stress.

“She was banging half the staff; that’s why,” Pink says loudly enough for it to float over the entire classroom. It gets her another cheap laugh and phones all over the room buzz. I’m sure she’s uploaded the clip of her voice already with some cheeky hashtag.

“That won’t be the case here,” Herr Blitzen harrumphs.

Okay, that’s it. I’m not letting a middle aged dickwad professor riff off me, too.

I push to my feet, knowing there will be recordings of this before I can finish speaking. Looking out over the room, I let the red bleed into my eyes as my bunny fills my body with strength. My voice is calm, but menacing as I pin everyone—including the shark professor—with my infuriated gaze.

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