Page 9 of The Scars Within
Her friends snickered at my response.
“Not a problem at all. You’re the one they call Scar, right?” she said, lifting her chin as if trying to intimidate me. “I just hope you know what you’re doing. I get extremely grumpy throughout the day if I don’t have the perfect vanilla latte each morning.”
She is seriously trying to intimidate me. What is she, twelve years old? I haven’t dealt with a bully since the shed, and I don’t plan on dealing with one at a war college. Her parents probably coddle her and still give her everything she wants—typical spoiled brat.
Just as I was about to tell her where she could shove her latte, Shayde stepped in from the crowd.
“Pehper quit being a bitch and move on,” Shayde said, his tone suggesting he was all too familiar with her antics.
Pehper and her spices scuttled away. Shayde turned and toweredover me, his height of at least six feet diminishing my five-foot-four frame. He uncrossed his arms and placed a surprisingly gentle hand on my shoulder, the warmth of his touch comforting. His presence was a mix of citrusy bergamot and spice.
“Ignore her. She hates not being the center of attention,” he said.
“How in the holy elements did I steal her attention?”
“Anyone who doesn’t grovel at her feet or whom she can’t figure out threatens her.”
“You seem to know her well,” I said, tilting my chin and shrugging his hand off.
“Too well. Anyway, what work assignment did you sign up for?”
“Espresso Brewmaster. I’ll be in the cafeteria every morning.”
He paused, scrutinizing me as if trying to figure me out. “That’s not usually a job the ladies fight over.”
I scoffed. “I’m not one of the usual ladies.”
“I guess we’ll have to see about that,” he said.
The crowd around us started to thin as cadets finished claiming their work assignments. I glanced around, clearly trying to end the conversation without being rude. I didn’t want to get on my team leader’s bad side on the first day.
Shayde cleared his throat. “Rhodes and I sent your course schedules to your rooms. We think enough is going on during initiation day without adding more stress about classes. Take a walk in the courtyard with me?”
I studied him momentarily, opening my mouth to respond and closing it again. Why does he want to walk with a nobody cadet like me? His popularity is a given, being one of the famous twins at the war college. Surely, there were more well-known cadets he could be hanging out with. My goal of going unnoticed? Fail.
By the time I could respond, almost everyone had left the Great Hall. Shayde still had his eyes on me, obviously not budging on his offer. Realizing I had nothing better to do until the dinner bell and remembering what Delaney said about the twins, an idea sparked in my mind.
“Sure, but only if you help me with something after.”
Shayde guided me past the auditorium and through another turret until we emerged into the courtyard. It was mostly bare except for a large weeping willow in the center. Each corner has stone benches with plenty of open grass in front of them, making it the perfect spot for study groups. A few more trees fill the space, and flower bushes line the walls, giving the area an open, airy feel.
“So, how long have you wanted to attend Mageia?” Shayde asked.
Again, it is time for my rehearsed answers. “Ever since I was a girl. My father was an elemental.”
“Was?” Shayde asked, his tone laced with concern.
“Is. Was. Who knows. He left my mother and me when I was a child,” I explained. No need for the pity of a dead father as well.
“Oh…” he paused. “I’m sorry to hear that. I don’t know what kind of parent could ever abandon their own kid.”
“Yeah. Don’t worry about it. I’ve grown used to being the odd one out among my peers.”
“What do you mean?”
I took a breath as we rounded the other side of the courtyard. Groups of cadets walked around us, enjoying the beautiful day. I noticed an older cadet showing off earth magic to his friends, making wilted roses bloom with a flick of his wrist.
“Parentage is usually one of the first questions asked when you’re greeted by new people. There’s a special category in society for bastard children. People either pity you or cast you aside as someone not important enough to converse with.”
