Page 113 of A Heart of Bluestone

I listened—and I still do, as best as I can.

Now, I fight back the sobs that jerk my shoulders, that jolt through me like hiccups, but they don’t take hold.

Because, while Landon has disappeared ahead, gone already into the grand parlour, Serena is still nearby.

I throw a twisted, wet scowl over my shoulder at her. “Are you following me?”

The look she spares me is dull. “As it happens, we share a room.”

She might be the one who gave me the advice.

But she also is one ofthem.

So I gulp down the tears and shove through the solid, lacquered to the grand parlour. I’m quick to rush through, though—except Serena on my tail—there are no Snakes in sight.

I make for the dorm room, fast.

Serena keeps too close all the way up the stairs and down the corridor to our room. The door hasn’t even shut before she’s pushing inside after me, and the cold air is quick to invade the room.

I don’t bother looking at her as I climb onto my bed.

Serena strides across the room.

“No,” she says and kicks open her wardrobe. “You won’t be moping. Get up.”

She snaps her fingers at me, and the shine of a cartier bracelet winks at me from her wrist. New. Probably gifted from Oliver.

My thoughts are slow, her words even slower to sink in. But when they do, I lift my face from the comforter and frown at her. “What?”

Whipping her hair, she lowers her long lashes at me. “Get up and get dressed.”

My face crumples. “I knew you were following me.”

“Amazingly perceptive as always,” she says, and it’s a dig. I don’t get it.

I push up onto my knees.

Thego-fuck-yourselfis in the scowl I aim at her as I reach for the nearest drape and start to tug it in place.

Serena’s glare darkens.

Slowly, she moves into step—right for my bed. “Do you or do you not need a drink?”

My hand stills on the tugged drape. “What?”

She looks at me like I’ve knocked my head and forgotten my own name. “I,” she starts slow, “am going to the party by the old supply cabin. You are coming with me.”

“Why? I mean, why me?” The uncertain words spill out of me.

Why me and not Asta? Why me at all?

First, she’s luring me into her dare games in the grand parlour, then sitting with me for a meal in the mess hall, just once, but it is still an oddity, and now she’s dragging me along to a party?

I sink into the mattress, legs folded, and my bottom flattens on the heels of my boots.

Serena arches a brow at me, waiting.

“What the hell is up with you?” I ask, blunt. “We aren’t friends, Serena. We haven’t been friends for a long time. I’m not going to a party with you.”

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