Page 76 of Angel Lost

“You’re on medication?” I ask. “What the hell for?”

She opens her eyes, glaring. “That’s not a polite question.”

“Reye, you were up a tree, shaking so much the canopy was moving. You’re sweating like you’re in a sauna and—Would you stop that!” I smack her hand to stop her from pulling out her hair.

She stares down at the hair in her fist, lip trembling. “I have an anxiety disorder,” she finally says. “With the rip, the hellions, the loss of a student, it’s too much. Then today I forgot my meds. Maybe yesterday too.”

“Okay.” I slip my hand into hers and start to walk us both back to campus, relieved when she doesn’t put up any resistance.

“Okay? I…don’t disgust you?” she asks. “I’m weak. I shouldn’t be weak. He won’t want a weak wife.”

In the darkness I roll my eyes. “Look, I don’t care what he wants. But you need to look after yourself, for you. If that’s meds…doesn’t matter. You are the most put-together student at the academy, everyone looks up to you. You are not weak. Whatever you do, it works. And when it doesn’t? When you have a blip? That’s okay too.”

We walk in silence back to our dorms.

Chapter Twenty-five: Lorelei

Stepping out of the portal into Fates feels like coming home—almost. I pause, soaking in the familiarity, but then my stomach clenches. Farrell. I have to face him. I deserve whatever’s coming. The Virrey was in the king’s prison, and the rebellion had no idea. What if he’d broken? I’d never have forgiven myself.

A student darts past, chasing a hada with a giant butterfly net.What the hell?I step between him and his prey, letting my incisors drop over my lip and my wings unfurl. I hiss, long and low. My tail whips out, taking the kid’s feet out from under him. He lands hard on the leaf-littered ground and I’m on top of him in an instant. The insignia on his blazer shows his breed.Angel.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I force out past my fangs.

Eyes wide, he stares up at me. “It’s all the rage.”

I snarl at him, and he gulps, quickly adding, “It’s for social media, for magabook. It’s trending. Ha-ha-hada, it’s called.”

My fingers curl around his throat. “And what exactly does that involve?”

“You’ve not seen it?” He sounds shocked. “It’s just…poking a little fun at the hada. No one gets hurt, mostly.”

“Not good enough. I see you doing that again, in person or online, and I will personally watch every single one of these clips and re-enact them on you. Every. One. Then you can tell me if they hurt.”

He swallows. I yank the kid up by his collar and make him delete the video clip he just shot, then send him on his way.

Little punk.

Shaking my head, I accept the single flower the hada has plucked for me. She buzzes once around my head, twittering in a pitch too high for me to understand, bares her teeth at the back of the departing angel, and flutters off.

I flick open my phone and scroll. Some of the clips are lighthearted, but there’s a darker side. I watch one clip, then the next. The perpetrators are all angels. There’s been a subtle power shift at the academy since term started, one I really don’t like.

The boys are still in class and I’m free to find a quiet corner and get some aether practice in. Thank Hecate I was scheduled for an afternoon of self-study. Practicing my aether here is a damn sight easier than hiding my strength at Gifted. It’s not like anyone here is going to know what I should and shouldn’t be able to do.

I trail down the quaint cobbled paths, enjoying the rustic turreted buildings in all their imperfections. It’s not the sleek, put-together look of the Gifted Academy, but it’s more honest. Though I’m not liking how busy it is. To go from a few handfuls of students in each year back to this…My head spins with the cacophony of voices, the bustle.

I trail out from between the buildings, toward the woods. The campus’s one and only mountain looms in the background. Slipping between the professors’ quarters, the hada graveyard, and the vegetable gardens, I heave a sigh of relief. Except for a few earth students, there’s no one out here during classes. I trail down the rows past the broccoli, swiping the occasional late raspberry from the canes, and slowly my energy settles.

The fields at the back are probably my best bet for a quiet spot. A lone hada, tending the beds, watches my progress.

Leaves crunch behind me. For the second time. Third.

I stalk quickly around the side of the walled garden, plastering myself to the stone. Waiting.

The moment my stalker sets foot around the corner, I pounce, tackling them to the ground. We roll over and over, finally coming to rest in the strawberry beds. The hada gardening there shrieks and boxes my ears as I pin my stalker to the ground, instantly realizing who it is.

Jess.

I jump up, pushing myself off her with a snort.

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