Page 30 of Savage Hope

I remain quiet as we make our way to the dining hall. I am too busy gleaming under the sun and people-watching the other students filling the pathway with us to worry over the silence this time. There’s so much chatter around us and so much electricity in the air that it’s intoxicating.

As we near the main academy building, the smell of food reaches my nose and my stomach grumbles, tightening with need.

It is another reminder that I won't be eating crap like I would at Florentine’s. When we step into the dining hall, I gaze in awe. Yesterday, I was here with my fellow Florentines, but now, almost at capacity, it’s a completely different level of energy.

Taking Bryony’s lead, I look at the same four long tables I noted yesterday. This time, they’re filled with groups gathered together. The humans sit at the table on the far left of the room;a calmness surrounds them, suggesting they are humans, even though I can’t figure out how or why I know that. I try to spy B among the mix, but there are too many people for me to single him out.

Bryony leads me to the next table, leaving the other two on the right side of the room either vampires or wolves. From my vantage point, I can’t determine which is which as I take the open seat beside my new guide.

The spread of food lining the table distracts me from my observations, leaving me unsure where to begin. There is an array of hot and cold breakfast foods, including bacon, sausage, eggs, croissants, pancakes, fruit, cereals, and even donuts. I’ve seen a donut before; I’ve just never had the luxury of trying one. As I reach for the glazed treat, I notice Bryony staring at me from the corner of her eye.

Sitting back in my seat, I blindly reach for a water bottle as I turn to her.

“What?”

Blunt much? Maybe, but as much as I’m trying to be…nice, it doesn’t change overnight, like I’m willingly going to idly walk around with her staring at me all day.

She tilts her head at me, a slight softness to the curl of her lips. “What is Florentine’s like?” she asks, ultimately knocking the confidence from me with one simple question.

I instantly feel myself shut down, offering a meager shrug as I turn away from her, opting to bite into my donut. Trying to focus on the sickly-sweet dough in my mouth, I will her question to disappear from existence, but the burning sensation on the side of my face comes from her expectant look, one that seems already too familiar with her, and I sigh.

“That bad, huh?” she asks, reaching for a stack of pancakes and a small jug of what looks like maple syrup beside it.

I shrug again. “I’m sure you've had someone tell you the answers to that before,” I say, looking down at my plate.

“No, actually. Last year, there was only one witch, and he was an ass.”

I nod in acknowledgment as I look around the room before offering her the simplest answer I can. “It's nothing like this.”

That's all I can offer. That's all I can say to even try to summarize the differences between Florentine’s and here. Not without the pain in my chest intensifying and stealing what little strength I’ve mustered for the day.

It’s tempting to slip my hand into my pocket and feel the coin I know is there, but I refrain, too scared of losing it. Besides, I promised myself last night that come morning, I wouldn’t think about anything that happened before today. I'm certain that trauma will be lurking in the corner of my mind for the rest of my life, but it won't start today. Not when I have such little time left on Earth. Letting it consume me is not on my to do list.

“Don't worry, you may feel out of your comfort zone right now, but you'll get there,” she insists, tucking into a stack of pancakes as if she didn't just send me on an emotional roller coaster.

I hum in agreement. “I hope so.”

Thankfully, a comfortable silence washes over us as we eat. I move from the donut to a plate of pancakes until my stomach is on the verge of exploding. Nausea threatens to claim me from all the sweetness, but I take a few small swigs of water to help it pass.

“We’re about to drop you in the deep end. Are you ready?” Bryony asks. I gulp, watching her stand up, and follow suit before I can think better of it.

I can't decipher which emotion is most prominent within me; I’m a mixture of nerves and excitement, caution and hope, worry and exhilaration. Somehow, every single emotion morphs intoone, leaving me jittery as we head toward the exit. As I near the end of our table, a familiar face at the end to the right catches my attention, and before I can think better of it, I close the distance, waving excitedly when I see S. I mean Sian.

“Hey,” I breathe, taking note that this must be the vampires’ table, leaving the table on the other side of them to be the wolves. “Are you doing okay?” I ask, tilting my head at her as I come to a stop beside her chair, but the instant feeling in my gut twists with uncertainty. Her lips press together, her eyes darting anywhere but at me, and a sickly feeling settles in my stomach.

I'm waiting for some kind of interaction, but it seems she's reluctant to give me anything. I'm about to take a step away when her eyes finally meet mine again; her lips are pursed and her hands ball into fists in her lap.

“We're not friends, P. Don't come over here again,” she grinds out through clenched teeth. Her tone is empty, her words are cold, and all I can do is gape at her.

A daunting realization washes over me as I consider that this is probably how I’ve made her feel the entire time we’ve known each other. Have I been this dismissive and cold? I thought that in a sea of all these people, we might see each other first, but it seems the pillar of joy I relied on so much no longer exists, and it's been less than twenty-four hours since we got here.

Worry gets the better of me as I consider whether something is wrong with her, refusing to accept the sudden distance between us. As my eyes glance across the table, I also find Terence. He’s deep in conversation with the guy beside him, peering at me from the corner of his eye, but he doesn’t turn, not like he usually does.

Whatever vibe I'm getting from Sian, I'm getting from Terence too.

The guy beside him, though, the one holding all of T’s attention, is looking straight at me. My chest constricts as I will myself to turn away, but it’s impossible.

He has jet-black hair, piercing blue eyes, and broad shoulders that create an all-encompassing aura that pulls you in deeply, but not in a good way. Definitely not in a good way. Even though he is sitting, I can already guess he would tower over me. Not that that’s difficult to do, I’m only five foot five, but I know he would make me feel three feet tall at best. There’s a curl to his lips, a fictitious smirk that makes me feel like I don’t want to be the target of it.

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