Page 36 of Her Rabid Beasts

The person who’s running down the corridor, pounds on every door as they pass. Our door is the last in the line, so when she gets to us, she stops short, panting in the open doorway.

It’s a brown-skinned she-wolf from third year.

“There’s a trial!” she puffs, tucking a curl of wild black hair behind her ear. “It was just broadcasted to the wolves. He’s holding court. Quick, you don’t want to miss it!” She runs back down the corridor.

Trial.I break out into an immediate sweat.

“What does that mean?” Stacey asks in alarm, looking from me to Connor and back again, almond eyes wide in alarm as we all shoot to our feet.

“Someone’s done something naughty and needs to pay.” Connor sees me, no doubt ashen-faced, and loops his muscled arm through mine. Stacey does the same on my other side. “Don’t worry, girl,” he says quietly. “It’s notyourtrial this time.”

I nod as Henry begins his slow pecking of my neck to remind me to breathe. “And who did she mean by ‘he’?”

Connor gives me a pointed look, swishing his long black mane. “He’s a mate of yours.” He snorts at the double entendre. “The scary shark daddy, of course.”

Every muscle in my body stands to attention as I gulp. Ice-blue eyes flash in my memory as my anima keens in sadness and excitement. Our Great White shark didn’t come to see me down in our cavern. A little part of me thought he might have. That he might have wanted to. But nope. Clearly, I’m not as important to him as I thought. It hurts something in me to admit it. And now, as I follow the animas outside, I’ll have to stomach facing two mates who want nothing to do with me.

As we all file into the animus dorms, there are four armed guards monitoring the crowd from outside.

“Wait, student justice issanctioned?” Stacey hisses.

“Yup.” Connor gives us a white-toothed grin. “The deputy headmaster lets the animuses run their own trials for certain inter-court squabbles. It’s supposed to prepare us for life outside, when we have to answer to our court royalty.”

I grumble under my breath at a demonstration of another of Lyle’s educational tactics. Thiseventseems to be fairly orderly so far. The fact that there are systems and processes that are led by the students themselves? I begrudgingly admit that it’s a smart thing for him to let us do.

To my delight, there is also a talking gargoyle sitting at the top of the glass doors leading inside, twig-like legs hanging over the lip of the awning. He sits with a rotund belly and bat-like wings folded behind him and wears a top hat and monocle. Unlike Christine’s more covert mutterings, this gargoyle is shouting profanities at those passing through the door.

“This place has gone to thedogs!” he cries, pointing a stick-like finger at a pair of wolves.

Someone throws a black flip flop at him, hitting him square on his bulbous nose.

“Screw you, leopard!” He shakes his fist. “Just showing everyone how small your cockle is!” He holds up a pinky finger and the rest of us snigger.

The gargoyle turns his head to survey the crowd and those cast iron eyes widen when he spots the three of us animas.

“Yoohoo, animas!” he calls. That obsidian face splits into a wide grin and he waggles his fingers. “So refreshing to see pretty things around here. Come up and give us a kiss.” He puckers his lips and blows a loud raspberry.

“Hi, Bastian,” Connor calls, wiggling his fingers back. “I’ll climb up for my kiss later.”

Stacey and I exchange an amused smirk as we pass through the doors.

There is an excited yet tense buzz in the air and as we funnel through the first floor of the dorm and Connor holds me tightly to avoid the jostling that’s going on. The animus dorm is easily three times the size of the anima dorm, and even with the wider corridor, we’re all moving at a snail’s pace.

At the end of the corridor, four of the biggest animuses from Scythe’s entourage stand as guards by two big front doors. One of them is Yeti, the imposing white-haired order leader of the felines, cooly surveying the passing students. Another is Beak, looking impressive with his arms crossed and golden-brown hair perfectly spiked up. He’s definitely in his element because he smartly smacks one of his eagles on the back of his head.

“No groping other animuses!” he barks.

“That eagle misses nothing,” Connor says reverently.

Indeed, Beak’s brown eyes dart this way and that, so naturally, he catches my eye as I come up to him. “You and I will talk later,” he says down to me, his face grim.

I look up at him in surprise. Is this about the Titus incident in the dining hall?

Beak raises his brows like I’m a bit slow. “You’re under me now. Court of Wings.”

“What?” But the crowd pushes us forward and I have to enter the large, carpeted room.

“Hm, that’s a bit awkward,” Connor says, holding onto my elbow so I’m not swept away. “Beak leads the raptors now, so he thinks you come under his jurisdiction.”

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