Page 23 of Laid Bare

Death.

“Come on. Let’s get you to breakfast before class starts,” Zane says, stepping out from behind me and holding his hand out in a flourish toward the dining hall.

As if on cue, my stomach rumbles, the sound rivaling Bane’s laughter.

* * *

The moment I cross over the threshold into the dining hall, all chatter stops. Eyes swing my way, and once again, I’m in the spotlight. Somewhere I never wanted to be. But here we are.

Bane and Zane step in behind me, their imposing statures and nightmare visages causing fear to waft around the space. I wrinkle my nose, but it does nothing to dispel the sour smell.

Zane takes point in front of me, his scarlet wings flaring wide and his tail twitching in agitation. After retucking his wings behind his back, he twists around and holds out his giant red palm toward me. “Trust me?” Earnest sincerity rests in his gaze, along with something else I can’t place.

I swallow hard, looking for a sign of deception. Anything that will tell me that I can’t trust him—them. But besides the incident in my dorm, they’ve done nothing to make me think that I can’t put at least a little bit of trust in them.

Yes, this is my second time in their presence, so they could still be deceiving me, but ehhh. Rather the enemy I know and all that junk.

My hand looks tiny in comparison to his large mitt as I place mine in his. It’s hot to the touch, his skin radiating an unnatural warmth that heats me from the inside out. My magic zips to my fingertips, sending a jolt through my body, but it disappears instantly, making me wonder if I imagined it.

Looking up, I see something flash across Zane’s face, something that looks suspiciously like awe, but even that’s gone before I can fully digest what it means. He seems to shake himself out of whatever thoughts he’s having and turns back toward the dining hall, easily maneuvering us through the tables until we reach the buffet line.

A low rumble emanates from behind me, causing the students in front of us to scatter, leaving the line blissfully empty. I raise a brow, glancing over my shoulder, but all Bane does is chuckle, the low, rumbling sound infusing my veins. He doesn’t care one bit that all he’s doing is ostracizing me more from those I share my classes with.

“They’re just sheep,” Bane mutters unrepentantly, shrugging his massive shoulders.

I sigh, shaking my head, then releasing Zane’s hand, I grab a plate and move down the buffet, throwing eggs, bacon, sausage, and hash browns on my plate. A Faeberry muffin calls my name from the selection of pastries, but I ignore it, heading for the coffee station next. The guys are still behind me every step of the way, their own plates overflowing with more food than I could eat in a week.

The dining hall is still shrouded in silence, eyes following my every move. But luckily, no one has said anything or started any issues. Yet. It’s bound to come. I know it will. I don’t know when. But every second, the tension seems to rise higher and higher. If it wasn’t for Zane and Bane, I know I’d never make it through breakfast unscathed.

A contented sigh leaves my lips with my first sip of coffee. It’s just how I love it. A little sugar, some creamer. And nice and steamy.

Oh, Mr. Tall, Dark, and Steamy, how I’ve missed you.

Armed with my tray in one hand and my cup in another, I turn toward the tables, finding exactly what I felt. All eyes on me. Something I’ll have to get used to. I’m a novelty. A rarity. Almost like the main attraction in a circus sideshow. Not that I’ve ever been to one to know. But I can imagine this is what they felt like.

Instead of paying them any attention, my eyes find my normal table. There, sitting alone, is Marion. My Mare-Bear. My best friend that I’ve done nothing but lie to since the moment I met her. Unlike everyone else, her gaze is focused on her plate, eating methodically, but there’s no missing the purse of her lips and tightness around her eyes.

Shit. This is going to hurt.

A quick glance over my shoulder reveals Zane and Bane standing patiently behind me, waiting for me to decide. It’s a no-brainer, though. I head straight over to the table Marion is, pointing to the empty one next to it for the guys to sit. They easily take the hint and sit down, leaving me to do what I need to. Beg. Grovel. Hope to hell that I haven’t killed the one true friendship I’ve ever had.

The chair squeaks when I bump it with my hip as I stop in front of the table, shifting from foot to foot, praying she’ll look up. That she’ll invite me to sit. But she doesn’t say a word. Her hand tightens around her fork, and that’s it. I nibble my lip in indecision. Should I just sit down? Should I go sit with Bane and Zane?

Fuck.

Finally, after what feels like forever, Marion lifts her gaze to mine, raising an impatient eyebrow. She waves her hand for me to take a seat, and I move quickly, dropping my tray on the table in my haste. Her lips twitch like she wants to laugh, but she miraculously holds it in. If it were before, she’d be cracking up, making fun of me.

I have to fix this.

“Are you going to stare at me or are you going to actually eat?” she grumbles, her knife scrapes across her plate, punctuating her words.

“I’m sorry,” I rasp, emotion thick in my throat. Her eyes dart to mine, then back to her breakfast. “I-I couldn’t say anything. They…they said it wasn’t safe. I wanted to tell you.” I sniffle, blinking back the pesky tears that decided to make an appearance. So much for not letting my emotions get the better of me. “I understand if you don’t want to be my friend anymore. Just know that I cherish our friendship, and I lied to keep you safe. I didn’t want anything to happen to you.”

A traitorous tear slips down my cheek, and I hastily wipe it away, hoping no one saw it. But even as I entertain the thought, I push it away. I’m sure everyone here hasn’t taken their eyes off me and caught my moment of weakness.

My stomach roils as Marion keeps silent, not even acknowledging my apology. Not that I actually expect her to. It’s just more wishful thinking that she’d forgive me so quickly. I pick up my fork to finally eat, but it quickly loses its appeal the longer I stare at it.

With a resigned sigh, I push my chair back, the legs squealing across the floor, and get up, collecting my tray and heading toward the trash. No surprise, my bodyguards are on my heels, their own trays left abandoned on the table instead of cleaning up their own mess.

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