Page 91 of Savage Torment

I shrug away the guilt that would usually follow as I smile at my friend. “Class?” I clarify, and she nods, but the sound of someone clearing their throat from behind me captures my attention.

Looking over my shoulder, my eyes widen at the sight of Professor Whitmore. “Miss Beauchamp, a word. Alone.”

29

POLARIS

Stepping into Professor Whitmore’s office, my gaze immediately darts to the filing cabinet along the right hand wall. I can see the folder with my name on it as if it was in my hands now. Page after page of my diary inserts. The vision doesn’t last long, though, as I step toward his desk, recalling the feeling of the carpet biting into my knees as Tatum fucked my mouth.

Damn.

That went from rage to embarrassment in zero point five seconds flat.

Whitmore clears his throat as he takes a seat in his chair, waving for me to get comfortable in the seat across from him. “Miss Beauchamp, how are you finding your time here at the academy?”

I frown at him, “Uh, fine?” I don’t really know how he wants me to answer. Not with the truth, that’s for sure.

“Your name was called today. How does that make you feel?”

I tilt my head at him, digesting his words as I wait to feel an overwhelming emotion, but nothing comes.

Odd.

“I haven’t really had time to process it yet,” I answer with a shrug, and he hums in acknowledgement.

With his lips pursed, he leans forward on his desk between us, resting his chin on his hands as his gaze narrows. “You know, many from Florentines do well here,” he offers, and my eyebrows rise in surprise.

“Okay?”

He nods along with himself, but his eyes don’t waver from mine. “Do you know why that is?”

My pulse quickens slightly, as though it’s a trick question I should know the answer to, but I don’t.

“No,” I admit, and he smiles. It’s not warm or reassuring, it’s almost… condescending.

“Because they remain isolated,” he states clearly, and understanding washes over me.

My gut tells me exactly where this is going, but I don’t say a word. I just nod curtly.

“Right,” I mutter, hoping to bring the conversation to a close, but he’s not done yet.

“They don’t let their emotions get the better of them.”

“Okay.”

“They don’t really gel with their factions. It’s a little late for that, given their prior separation,” he continues, and I hum in agreement. “So the idea of mingling with other factions never materializes,” he explains, and I sigh.

“I get it,” I blurt. I’ve already reached my limit of him dancing around the subject instead of getting straight to the point.

“Do you?” he pushes, dropping his palms to the desk as he leans forward even more.

“Maybe not, why don’t you spell it out for me?”

“You have a coin, one that’s also in the possession of those in other factions. How did you come to acquire the coin, or come to be aware of the fact that they do too, for that matter?”

I freeze, jaw slack as I gape at him.

What the fuck?

---