Page 138 of A Heart of Bluestone

If my father even chose to do something—which I doubt he would since we’re so heavily tied to the Sinclairs—it woulddestroy an alliance older than this school, an alliance that feeds this world, our own and the krums’.

Our families have always worked together.

I can’t count how many hotels they own together, how many banks they run, how many trades their hands are buried in, all the corporations they hold the strings to. All of that would collapse if our families severed ties. Economic disaster that would ripple through the krum world—and our own.

My life compared to that power, that influence?

It’s insignificant.

That’s what she can’t shake about her krum upbringing.

Everyone is special, we all matter.

A load of shit.

One individual does not matter in the face of the entire world. So my life is planned for me. I am just a puppet.

The best I can hope for is that Father chooses someone kind for me, maybe a little handsome, definitely rich—and if I marry into the gentry, then I would at least want a handsome husband who loves me. I’m not tripping over myself to be poor in financesandlove.

I would prefer to have both.

The thought lures my attention up to the faculty table.

Eric is gone.

Master Milton is still there, now moved some seats down and muttering into Master Lockwood’s ear.

I look to the clock.

Today’s lessons start in less than an hour.

I have a call to make before then.

“Gotta go,” I sigh and grab my backpack.

Mother sent me a new one over the weekend, a lovely white and black threaded leather bag.

Courtney just grunts her answer.

Passive aggressive bitch.

I kick out from my chair and stalk of out the hall.

Dray’s cold eyes follow me. But he doesn’t.

My stomach should feel full and satisfied this morning, but the problem with eating fruits and smoothies around Courtney is that I never get that satisfaction when I have the smell of bacon and eggs and toast and beans wafting over to me.

So I feel a starved emptiness in my gut as I push into the booth.

Maybe that’s why I’m so hard on her food choices. Maybe it’s that Mother is the same way with me and I just inherited that manner, I spread it like a poison.

The rail rattles above as I whip the curtain closed.

I slump in the booth and stuff a protein bar into my mouth.

The bar is drier than eating paper right out of a book, and the calories I’ll burn just chewing it will make up for the chocolate I had in bed last night.

A whole bar.

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