Page 22 of The Stone Curse
CHAPTER 8
Touron didn’t make our pancake dreams come true, but he promised to make some for dessert later. Instead, we scarfed down eggs, courtesy of Derek, along with crispy bacon and hot buttered toast. Derek passed the teapot so we could refill our mugs.
“Levi should have stayed for food,” Touron said. “I’m worried about him.” Levi had left before Curi and I returned, gone to set up for training, Touron had said, whatever that entailed. “He looks exhausted. Like he hasn’t slept or eaten properly. Cam, did you guys talk?”
I sighed. “Yes. We did, and we’re all good.”
“Maybe if you invite him to eat with us later,” Touron suggested.
My chest tightened. Had I beenthatbad to Levi? Was he avoiding meals because of me? “I’ll speak to him. Insist he join us.”
“Orix might be back with Willowman by then,” Shar said. “We can eat together.”
“We’ll need more chairs,” Palia said.
“There are some in the living room,” Ginia reminded her.
“Those aren’t proper dining chairs.”
“It hardly matters as long as they’re somewhere to park an ass.”
Palia shot her a reproachful glance, and Ginia pretended not to see it.
We finished up our meal, tidied away, then headed out of the tower.
The twins walked ahead. They had their hair up in high ponytails today so that Ginia’s waves cascaded about her shoulders, and Palia’s poker-straight locks swayed against her back. I forgot they were twins sometimes, despite their physical similarities, because their personalities were so distinctly different.
“I can’t believe that Melanie is a spirit ghoul,” Ginia said.
“Do you even know what a spirit ghoul is?” Palia asked.
“Of course I do,” Ginia sniffed. “A ghost who’s become a ghoul, duh!”
Palia rolled her eyes. “They’re not common, you know. Most ghosts who lose their memories become angry spirits, not ghouls. Only the ones who’ve experienced a terrible loss become ghouls, feeding off the lives of others to replace what they subconsciously know they have lost. They never succeed in being whole again.”
This was news to me. “I didn’t know that.”
We hit the main path to central campus, and the hubbub of goyles hurrying to classes and training surrounded us. No one gave us a second look, though, and even the alchemists that floated about campus were ignored. It was strange how quickly things went back to normal after a tragedy, especially if that tragedy didn’t directly affect you. Only a handful of us had been on the battlefield a week ago; the rest of the cadets here were unscathed, untouched by the nightmares that the encounter had paired us with.
“You know, if not for the alchemists hanging around, you’d think nothing had happened,” Ginia said, echoing my thoughts. “But everything has changed. We were breached.”
We slowed as we rounded the main building and came abreast of the initiate training grounds. I spotted Waxen and Saffe among the other initiates and raised a hand in greeting.
“See you later,” Touron said as he and the twins broke off to join them.
Curi, Shar, and I continued down the path toward the training room. A group of cadets strode toward us, Hawke at the helm. He raised his chin in greeting and slowed his pace. The others with him peeled away.
“How are you, Basque?” Hawke asked.
“I’m coping. Headed to training now. You?”
“Still reeling. Look, I’m sorry for your loss. But I know you guys will get the bastards responsible. I just wish I could help.”
“You can, by keeping the academy safe when we’re gone. I don’t for one second believe there aren’t more spies here.”
“Agreed,” Hawke said. “We’ll keep our eyes peeled, trust me.”
A prickle rushed over my skin, a magnetic force drawing my attention toward the back of the main building where two alchemists stood watching us. “They give me the creeps.”
