Page 63 of Dark Embers

I spotted Cora and her entourage—minus Letti, obviously—coming from the nurse’s station before I entered the dining hall. My first instinct was to ignore the group, but thinking about how I would feel if it were Niko or Brett who’d been attacked prompted me to set aside my antipathy and talk to her. Especially given mine and Cora’s history.

“Cora,” I said, pulling her from the group.

The other mers eyed me, silently asking if she wanted them to leave. She nodded, and they left the two of us alone.

“I heard about your friend,” I said, awkwardly placing a hand on her shoulder, then quickly removing it. “What happened to her was atrocious.”

She stared me in the eyes, in that penetrating way that showed her dominance, but then her expression softened, and she nodded.

“I wouldn’t wish that on any shifter,” I said. “No matter our differences.”Even if you three did trap my mate in a simulation and leave her for dead.

“Thank you, Tobias,” she said.

“How is she?”

“I think she’ll live.” By her tone, Cora didn’t sound so sure.

“Did she say anything about the vamp that did it?” I asked.

She shook her head, uncharacteristically looking down at the ground. But then her head snapped up as a thought occurred to her, and she landed her gaze back on me. Her expression was masked with innocence, but I’d been acquainted with the manipulative mer long enough to know it was just that.

“She keeps sayinghername over and over.”

“Her name?” I knew who she meant byher,but I needed to hear it.

“Arya,” she replied like the word tasted foul on her tongue

I narrowed my eyes in a curiosity I felt in my very bones. “Why is she saying Arya’s name?”

Cora shrugged and resisted the smirk that threatened to emerge. “Who knows? Maybe it was Arya’s fault?”

I wanted to call out her bullshit, but even though her motives weren’t the most sincere, I could tell that it was the truth. Lettihadbeen saying Arya’s name. But why?

“Well, I’d better get back to my friends. Thanks for checking in.” She gave me an appreciative nod and walked past me.

The dining hall had the same nervous buzz as students got their breakfast, but I didn’t see many of them actually eating. I quickly grabbed something that resembled edible meat without really looking at it—my dragon craving the protein this morning—and headed toward my usual table.

I hadn’t realized I’d been scanning the crowd as I walked until I spotted the familiar black hair pulled into a ponytail that showed off the blue streaks. Fortunately, Arya had her back turned to me and was speaking with her head lowered and tilted toward an almost identical tied up mess of orange hair.

I skidded past them without so much as a glance, willing Brett to actually hear his alarm and get down to breakfast, or for Niko’s plane to have landed early.

I couldn’t talk to her. I almost tripped when the image of Letti—sprawled on the cold concrete, face deathly pale and body nearly drained of blood—intruded my thoughts…and then her face morphed into Arya’s.

Speaking with Cora was different because I didn’t… It was just different. I briefly wondered if Arya knew Letti was saying her name, but I decided she could find out that information from someone else.

But like the glutton I was, I sat at an empty table, facing her and studiously avoided looking across the room at her face. I swore I felt her gaze fall on me more than once, but without my wingmen to verify, I couldn’t be sure, and no way in hell was I going to look at her to confirm that.

I dug into my breakfast, eating quickly and barely tasting any of it with the plan to escape as soon as I finished. Guilt knotted in my stomach, making my food hard to pack in. I should’ve walked right over to Arya as soon as I spotted her. I should’ve made sure she was okay after hearing the horrific news, that she herself was safe.

But knowing how Arya lost her mom. And that this was an attack on another mer. Could—

“Didya hear?”

I nearly jumped from my chair, choking down the food in my mouth before it was thoroughly chewed.

“Damn it, Brett!” I cursed, grabbing a fistful of my own hair and yanking it, then ran my fingers through it before glaring at my obnoxious friend.

“Sorry, man,” Brett said with a tiny shrug. “I guess we’re all on edge.” He sat down, the same mystery meat on his plate.

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