Page 62 of Malcroix Bones Academy
I tilted my chin higher, refusing to lower my gaze.
From either side, Jolie and Miranda each gripped one of my arms and squeezed.
“Fuck her,” Miranda hissed viciously in my ear.
“Fuck her, indeed,” Jolie seconded, her voice quieter and colder than I had heard it. “What a sad, sorry, little hag she is.”
I felt something deep inside me let out an exhale.
Even so, I found myself tuning out the rest of the Headmaster’s speech.
Maybe for the same reason, I blinked in surprise when the room suddenly filled with uniform-clad attendants carrying large platters of food. Voltaire had sat back down, and was leaning towards a shorter witch to listen to something she said.
A plate materialized in front of her as I watched.
I looked down and saw an empty plate in front of me, as well.
Utensils appeared on either side and a serviette in the center, even as attendants began placing platters at regular intervals along tables. Glasses appeared next, and more attendants appeared with pitchers, bottles, and carafes filled with water, wine, and what looked like mulled mead.
“They serve us alcohol here?” I asked, surprised.
“Who wouldn’t need it, after that speech?” Luc grumbled in an annoyed mutter as he reached for the nearest container of red wine. He poured a generous helping into his own glass, then, feeling my eyes on him, offered some to me.
“Sure,” I said after a pause, sliding my glass closer. “Why not.”
He poured me a generous half-glass with a grin, and did the same for Jolie and Miranda before dusting off the last of it in the thin-stemmed glass in front of Draken.
The six of us all relaxed as we ate and drank, and I managed to shake off the worst parts of the headmaster’s speech by the time I was halfway through my first course. The food was shockingly good. There was walnut and apple salad, Beef Wellington, asiago chicken, mashed potatoes, rolls, butter, gravy, greens, pasta with salmon and broccoli, grilled mushrooms, and butternut squash.
I tried to manage a few bites of each, ran out of room by the time I got to the squash, and only tried the chicken on Jolie’s urging.
It was better than the food at the hotel, which had been better than anything I remembered eating in Overworld. Of course, this was a special meal, a banquet, and they were clearly putting on a show of being the elite institution they were.
No wonder Ankha liked this place.
I’d only just finished supper and leaned back, groaning a little, when my plate vanished and more attendants came out to remove platters and replenish carafes of wine, mead, and water. They set down small glasses of some alcoholic digestif, what smelled a bit like brandy to me, and generous dishes of crème brûlée.
I stared at both things.
I was already the slightest bit tipsy.
I loved crème brûlée, at leastdecentcrème brûlée, but I was so full I risked physical injury if I indulged now. In the end, I couldn’t resist havingonebite.
My eyes practically rolled up in my head. I let out a small groan.
Draken heard me and chuckled.
“Oh, my,” the dark-haired mage teased. “No one bother Shadow right now. I think she’s having an intimate moment with her pudding.”
“It’s bloody orgasmic,” I admitted, scooping up an even bigger spoonful of the dessert. “You five might have to carry me back to Grathrock after. Fair warning.” I picked up the delicate glass filled with my brandy-like drink, and downed it in one go.
I gasped a little, started to laugh…
…then abruptly couldn’t breathe.
15
Did He?
