Page 61 of Shadebound
We don’t fall for kindness. We fall for the ache. For the anger. For the slow unravelling beneath someone’s skin that mirrors our own. If someone feels like home to a shadebound, then something inside them must be splintered. Something must be dying, or dangerous, or already lost. We only ever recognise what we already carry.
And maybe that’s the curse. That we love what reflects us, even when it wounds us. Especially when it wounds us.
Chapter Eighteen, A Way Out
Lunch at Mors Academy wasn’t really lunch. It was a pause between punishments, held in a hall that smelt faintly of mildew and burnt herbs. A cruel joke considering herbs andseasonings were not a thing anyone here got to touch, aside from with magic.
God, I would have killed for some seasoning. A sprinkle of adobo. A little dash of Tajin. At worst, even just some lemon and herb to lighten up my life from sludge.
My pack and I took our usual spot near the back. Far away from the prying un-dead eyes of any robed monster that wanted to float around the halls. The porridge on my tray steamed. All hideously thick. It tasted like liver and something darker, gamier.
Something a little more human.
I savoured every bite, dragging the spoon along the bottom of the bowl and licking it clean like it might vanish if I looked away. I was hardly enjoying it, but out of all the flavours I ate, when it tasted like human’s it was the best. The most tolerable.
Nothing likerealhumans. Nothing like the softness of their meaty flesh or the richness of their dying screams when I shifted into my true wolf form and devoured them whole.
And normal things. Normal thoughts.
When my bowl was empty, I people watched. Using my real-life reality show to entertain myself. Other students took exaggerated care not to drip food down their fronts—there were only so many uniforms, and if you ruined one, you suffered through the stains. And if you asked for a new one, they made you bleed for it.
It was easier not to be a messy eater.
I didn’t have that problem. No shirt meant no stains, which was why I’d removed mine after class. One of the few perks of being constantly half-dressed. Besides, it was one less thing to worry about ruining. I didn’t need to scrub blood out of cotton.
I’d done it enough times before growing up when my father was drunk. Or bored. Or sad about his pathetically empty life.
Or on a random Tuesday, just because he was a cunt.
Across from me, Jinx sat silent. Her posture relaxed but unreadable, like always. Her black hair curled softly where it fell past her shoulders; her braid a little loose. The front two ribbons of soft pink shimmered when the light caught them, and despite knowing she hated the colour, I hated to admit it suited her. Like one bright spark in an otherwise deadly demeanour.
One tiny bit of light left in an otherwise hollow shell.
She looked paler today—her skin a true grey in the flickering torchlight. Ethereal, not sickly. Like a statue carved from moonlight.
But I noticed all the things actuallywrongwith her. The little parts other people would have missed.
Blood trickled from beneath her cuff. A thin line slid over her wrist and dried near her elbow. She hadn’t wiped it. Hadn’t even acknowledged it. The damn thing had probably dug deeper again. Maybe she’d been trying to loosen it. Or maybe it just hated her. Honestly, fair enough. Most magic did. Especially ones designed by sadistic people like Hightower.
But Jinx’s eyes were empty. As though she were in the room with us, but not truly in the room. And sure, she often zoned out and sat in silence. But it was different.
It was the look she’d worn since Tyler had shoved Draven, and she had... had zoned out. Had gone into a trance-like thing where all she could do was use her magic.
She hadn’t heard me talking to her. Hadn’t felt me grabbing her. She’d just been locked onto her shadowy games with Tyler, and I had no idea how the fuck that had occurred.
Her magic should have been locked down.Thoroughly.
Maya arrived with the grace of a storm. Her tray smacked against the table as she dropped onto the bench. Shiny blue hair swung forward until she tucked it behind one ear, revealing the flicker of her neon blue eyes narrowed.
She leant forward, eyeing Jinx’s bowl. “I genuinely think you’re a psychopath. Who actually eats lemon flavoured things for fun?”
Jinx didn’t look at her. She didn’t look at anyone as she muttered, “Someone with taste.”
Further down the bench, Eris’s voice was soft. “I like lemon. I used to eat them from the lemon tree in my garden.”
I hadn’t even noticed her before this morning. If I were being honest, I didn’t notice anyone outside of my small circle, least of all quiet people who were kind of...weak. But if Jinx had taken her under her wing, then so would I. And I’d make sure the rest of my pack followed suit.
Jinx pointed at Eris. “See? Someone here has class.”
