Page 67 of Savage Hope

“I didn’t partake last night, Polaris. I?—”

“You did nothing instead,” I interject, noting the irritation that coils through me, which only grows with every passing second that I realize it’s not all directed at her.

“I…I was their last recruit—a non-Florentine—and my initiation didn’t entail any of that. If I had anticipated anything off-key, I wouldn’t have gone there. I wouldn’t have risked you like that.” She slumps back in her seat with a sigh. “When Nessa died, we were all devastated, but the first thing they wanted to do was find a replacement. I was still sad and grieving, and then there was you. I trusted it to be you. Unfortunately, I didn’t anticipate their actions, and I’m sorry for that.”

Her words wash over me, offering me a dash of understanding. My gut twinges with a hint of sadness—not for myself, but for her. And as the silence stretches between us, I can’t help but fixate on the defeat that nestles in her gaze.

“That sappy look isn’t going to work on me,” I grumble, clearing my throat, and she hums.

“I know.” She nods, a disappointed smile curling her lips.

I don’t know if I can truly trust her, the jury is still out on that one, but there’s a burning question I can’t deny. “They’re not going to try and pull that kind of crap again, are they?”

She shakes her head fiercely. “No, you basically declined their offer. They won’t reach out to you again. Even if they tried, I would make sure they didn’t.”

I scoff. “I declined their offer? I didn’t let them force me, you mean.”

“Yeah, that. I’m sorry about that,” she insists, and I turn away.

“Yeah.” I sigh, feeling the tendrils of defeat as she clears her throat.

“Turning down a coven, though, it won’t look good for you among the rest of the witches. Not when it was the Renegades,” she adds, and I shrug.

“I don’t care. I have morals, standards, and boundaries. I was deprived of a life at Florentine’s, yet I stood by those morals there, and I’ll stand by them here. I don’t want to be a part of a coven who is willing to take such drastic action to get what they want without asking permission. Not when I’ve finally been given a glance at freedom.”

She nods, not saying anything else on the matter, as she finishes off her croissant and stands.

“Ready for class?” My eyebrows rise as I stare at her, and she offers me that familiar pointed look. “Are you going to spend the day getting lost on your own from one class to another, or would you lower your standards for five minutes at a time to stick by my side to survive another day?”

Damn, when she puts it like that…

Swiping a hand down my face, I sigh with reluctance. Survival comes first. That’s precisely what I told myself all night. I can walk with her from class to class, but that doesn’t mean I have to be her friend.

“Where are we going?” I ask, straightening my jacket as I move away from the table, and she glances back over her shoulder at me.

“Combat.”

As I stepover the threshold into the combat classroom, I startle when I find the room morphing before my eyes, and by the time my foot presses against the floor, it’s grass and dirt beneath my sneakers.

With wide eyes, I turn to Bryony, who frowns in response for a moment before understanding flashes over her features. “It’sa hidden portal. It’s set around the perimeter of the classroom door to lead you out to the far fields for training.”

I nod like it makes total sense, but it definitely freaking doesn’t. Stepping back, I notice a soft glow in the air, like a shimmer sprinkled around the small spot, when another student suddenly appears in front of it.

Another step back, another deep inhale, and I still sink into the overwhelming surroundings I find myself in. No one else cares, though; it is seemingly just me. Maybe I can do this.

Clearing my throat, I turn my attention to the rest of the class that gathers a few feet away. It takes half a second to acknowledge that the quadrants stand strong together out here too. The vampires are gathered at the far left, wolves beside them, followed by the humans, leaving the witches on the far right.

Remaining indifferent about the girl beside me, I wander along the outskirts of the group, bypassing the other quads as I move toward the witches. The second we round the wolves, my eyes snag on a familiar bun tied on the top of a ridiculously cute guy’s head.

He spots me immediately, standing a little straighter as he offers me half a smirk and a slight lift of his chin in acknowledgment. I feel my cheeks heat as my lips curl of their own accord before I duck my head, tucking a loose silver curl behind my ear before I do something to embarrass myself.

Three steps. That’s how many I manage before I glance in his direction again, and I find him still staring my way, only…Wylder is standing beside him, glancing between the both of us.

Scurrying away, I feel eyes on me, but thankfully, I’m saved by the professor who stands before everyone.

“We don’t have time to waste this morning. We have assessments coming up soon and I need to see what I’m working with,” she hollers, clapping her hands as her short blondeponytail flaps in the breeze. “Once you’re paired off, find a pitch to set up and get to it,” she adds with a firm grumble, pointing at the squares that look to be spray-painted on the grass a few inches apart from one another. “Witches with?—”

“How about we change it up today, Professor Drummond?”

---