Page 44 of A Heart of Bluestone

She was unlucky.

Dray was her first. Her strongest.

Every attempt after him failed in-womb.

She tried for a few years, but the last time I remember seeing a swell of her belly was when I was around eight or nine years old. Guess one has to stop trying at some point.

Oliver used to say that Dray sucked all the magic out of his mother’s womb, and that’s why there wasn’t any left for another child.

I wondered if he did that to me.

James shatters my spiralling thoughts with apsst.

I blink at him. “What?”

“Why is he staring at you?”

Courtney looks up at the door.

I trace her gaze to the aristos pouring into the mess hall. All sheathed in black and white striped snow-rugby gear, tugging off their gloves, padding strapped to their knees and elbows.

Dray is in the middle, smacked fondly on the back, Mildred shouldering into him with a grin on her face. They won, but I care little about that, I care fondly that they don’t look at me.

I watch them split off, some for the buffet, others for the Snakes go-to table. Landon boots some younger students out of their chairs, students who dared sit at an empty, unofficially claimed table.

The kids are quick to scramble out of the way.

I roll my eyes before I finish off my coffee. It’s cold now, not lukewarm,cold. My face wrinkles.

“Not them,” says James. “Eric Harling.”

My eyes cut to the faculty table, fast.

Eric sits with a few other masters and administrative staff. A blush creeps hotly over my cheeks as we lock eyes.

He looks away as quickly as though our connected gazes burned him.

My mouth twists.

Courtney turns to her brother. “Are you sure you won’t come to the village with us?”

He sags with a loosened breath, one tinged with regret. “I’ll meet you there after my lesson. It’s too late to cancel it now,” he adds with a shrug.

The anxieties shine in the gloss of his lenses. Tucking his chin to his shoulder, he looks over at the table of Snakes for a beat, then, turning his back on Landon’s lured gaze, pulls off his glasses and wipes at the lenses with a napkin.

My gaze flickers to Landon.

He leans back in his chair. Running his hand through his tousled dark curls, he spares another moment on his stare aimedat the back of James’s head—and my throat balls with a sudden surge of anxiety for James.

He might not have the safest of trials on the slopes today. Maybe he was hoping the Snakes would be tied up with their games longer.

Courtney sweeps her tray off the table and takes it to the bin.

Without a word, James starts to tidy his own tray up.

“You don’t have to go,” I tell him, soft.

He lifts his frown to me.

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