Page 39 of Wicked Chains
He props himself up on one elbow, watching me as I tug on a clean shirt.
"Besides," I say, hunting for my shoes under the bed, "I'll leave Hank to keep you company." I concentrate for a moment, picturing my little frog familiar, feeling the pull of our connection.
A small green glow materializes on my desk, solidifying into Hank, who blinks his eyes at us.
"Ribbit," he says, which might be frog for "good morning."
Drake eyes Hank with exaggerated suspicion. "I'm not sure I'm ready for that level of commitment. Meeting the family already?"
I throw a sock at him, which he dodges. "Be nice to Hank. He's the reason I found you."
"Then he has my eternal gratitude." He looks at Hank. "Though I draw the line at sharing my girlfriend with a frog."
The word "girlfriend" catches me off guard, a warmth spreading through my body that has nothing to do with how aroused I am right now. I busy myself with putting on socks to hide the ridiculous smile threatening to take over my face.
"I'll be back as soon as I can." I lean over to give Drake one last kiss. "Try not to disappear on me again."
"Just hurry back."
I grab my hoodie and head out the door. The hallway is already filled with students heading to the assembly, their faces ranging from bored to annoyed to anxious.
The assembly hall is crowded when I arrive, rows of seats filled with reluctant students. I spot an empty chair near the back and slide into it, listening as the murmur of conversation dies down when Helena Wickersly strides onto the stage.
"Students of Serpentine Academy," she begins, her voice carrying without the need for a microphone, "as you all know, we will be hosting Serpentine’s annual Family Day event in two days."
Great. A whole day of watching rich kids show off for their even richer parents. I think I’ll plan on spending the day in my dorm room.
"This is an important tradition," Helena continues, "and a crucial opportunity to showcase the changes that have been made under new leadership. I expect each and every one of you to be on your best behavior."
She drones on about schedules and expectations, about representing the academy with pride, about the prestigious families who will be in attendance.
"Even those students who will not have family attending," Helena says, her eyes finding me in the crowd with unerring precision, "are required to participate fully and are expected to attend."
She looks at me like I'm something unpleasant she's found on the bottom of her shoe as she delivers her reminder that I'm alone here, that I don't have anyone coming tomorrow. No loving parents to show me off to, no family connections to leverage. Just me and my frog.
A movement to my left catches my eye. Soren, standing against the wall with the other faculty, rolls his eyes dramatically like a teenage girl. His gaze meets mine across the room, and he makes a small gesture with his hand like a puppet's mouth opening and closing, mocking Helena's speech.
At least someone else sees through her bullshit.
As Helena finally wraps up, releasing us all with a dismissive wave, I glance back at Soren. He winks at me, a quick flash of silver appearing in his black eyes, before turning away to speak to another professor.
Maybe I'm not as alone as Helena wants me to feel.
Eighteen
Rose
I push through the crowd of students filing out of the assembly hall, keeping my head down. I just want to get back to my room, back to Drake, to forget about Helena Wickersly and the whole Family Day horror show I’m going to be forced to endure tomorrow. But the universe, as usual, has other plans for me.
I sense him before I see him. The subtle throb of the mark on my arm like an early warning alert system—Ashhole incoming. Ash stands at the end of the hallway, leaning against the wall with casual arrogance, his green eyes finding me immediately in the sea of students flowing out of the room. There's no way around him, and I'm not giving him the satisfaction of watching me turn tail and go back into the assembly hall.
"Rose." The way he says my name makes it sound dirty. "Just the witch I was hoping to see."
"Sorry, can't stop," I say, trying to brush past him. "Places to be, people to see, you know how it is."
His hand shoots out, gripping my upper arm, not painfully but firmly enough that I can't easily pull away. "Your schedule just cleared up," he informs me, steering me toward an alcove away from the flow of students. "We need to talk."
I wrench my arm free once we're out of the main hallway. "We have nothing to talk about."
