Page 100 of A Heart of Bluestone

Oliver either isn’t as quick as Dray, or he’s not as focused on self-preservation. Maybe he simply allows it, my fist to connect with his mouth.

Because that’s what happens.

I punch him square on the face.

I feel the burst of blood on my knuckles, the instant swell of his lips and the cut of his teeth.

“Detention, Miss Craven!” Headmaster Braun screams at me. “Monday, detention for an entire week! Mr Harling, see her to the infirmary, now.”

Instinct has my shoulder tucking inwards, as though it’s my father advancing on me. But it’s only Eric.

That does little to lull the rage lashing through me.

I glare at my brother, my hands fisted at my sides, my chest heaving, and it takes everything not to go back in for another hit.

Oliver’s face is knocked to the side.

He leans away from me, crimson smearing his chin.

His death stare is aimed at the floor. He spits out a wad of blood before he turns that lethal look on me.

Fingers clasp around my arm.

Eric’s cheap musk is strong enough to merge with the stench of the griffin bile. So I know it’s him who takes me by the elbow.

I fall back a step.

Finally, I tug out of Oliver’s fierce stare.

Before I turn my back on them, I notice it.

Dray, the roll of his jaw, the masked rage that should warp his face. But he keeps it as schooled as he can.

This isn’t the place. Not the time.

But those two things will come.

And maybe then, I’ll regret it.

Right now?

Right now, I only regret that I didn’t sock Dray right in his pretty face.

17

Eric guides me to the corridor that runs down the side of the staircase. My landing spot is slick with the green sludge.

His hand releases me and he sidesteps around the bile to reach my abandoned backpack.

He leaves behind the pencils and erasers that fell out.

I watch them blister in the bile.

Headmaster Braun has his pentacle firm in his hand. He holds his palms flat against the air, and his mouth moves in a murmur of incantations. His brow is furrowed in concentration—and the bile starts to bubble.

The staircase is quickly festering with the old cheese stink, and I hear a retch or two from the onlookers.

The bubbles raise higher, then pop into green vapours.

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