Page 60 of Wicked Dove
Willow.
I really don’t want to have to deal with her crap today, not when I’m already drowning in my own. So I do what I definitely shouldn’t and wave my fork at her with a smile, going against my own thoughts, but she seems to bring out the worst in me.
Ocean must catch the slight interaction and snickers beside me.
“You’re insane,” she mutters under her breath as she nudges her shoulder against mine, and I snicker.
“No, I think you’re rubbing off on me. I’d say I’m more… psychotic.”
“Potions?Why do I need to learn potions? I’m not a witch,” I grumble, eyebrows pinched as I stare pleadingly at Ocean in hopes that she’ll miraculously declare that this class isn’t for me, but the tight smile she offers is far from the response I want.
“I mean, potions is a bit of a dramatic word. The class is more about creating offensive or defensive items in case someone tries to attack us,” she explains, and my eyebrows somehow manage to rise higher.
“I think that’s more dramatic than the word potions,” I mumble, and she shrugs.
“Maybe.”
Following Ocean to the first class of the day, I gape in surprise as we step inside. There are rows and rows of white science workbenches that fill the entire room, with the Professor’s desk sitting in the center of it all, offering a vantage point over everyone, unlike Professor Grimm’s class, where the seating is tiered. The color segregation continues in here, though, with each desk sitting beneath a colored flag that represents the correlating institute.
My steps slow as I try to find the aubergine purple among the madness, putting a few feet between Ocean and me as she takes off in the right direction. Hurrying to catch up, I don’t make it far before a hand lands on my shoulder. I steel my back as my hands curl into fists at the contact, only to turn around to find Kael looming over me.
“You’re with me,” he states, leaving no room for question as he encourages me in the same direction as Ocean, but as she claims the fourth purple workbench, he pushes me past to take the fifth.
“You’re being ridiculous.” I glare at him, but he doesn’t seem to care. “What about Ocean?” I ask, waving to my friend at the workbench in front of me, and he shrugs.
“Rion will pair with her.” He says it as though it’s already been decided at the exact same time the guy in question saddles up beside Ocean, glancing over his shoulder with a wink when he catches me staring.
Running short of excuses, I peer around the room in time to spot Thorne storming down the aisle. He carries himself with an air of superiority, despite the fact that he’s in Thirteen, but everyone seems to respect it, giving him the wide berth his aura demands. Without a single word or a glimpse of eye contact, he bypasses our workbench to take the one behind us.
“Don’t worry about him. He’s only here because it’s mandatory,” Kael murmurs, and I peer at him in confusion.
“What do you mean?” I ask, tearing my eyes from the dark-haired angry guy to lock eyes with a light-haired angry guy.
“He’s a shadow fae; he can do whatever his mind wants.”
I gulp at his explanation, but before I consider whether I want to know more or not, a loud thud draws everyone’s attention to the center of the room.
“Good morning. We won’t waste time with your gossiping nonsense. I’m going to come through with a worksheet that will prove essential for today’s lesson.” The woman stands with her spine stiff, her frame almost gaunt, and her gaze laser-focused as she glances around the room. Her hair is pulled back into a ponytail, but it does little to control the frizzy ends dancing around her face. Her nose is crooked and her thin-framed glasses are perched precariously on the edge of it.
She makes her way through the room, offering nothing more than a withering look and a sheet of paper to each table as she goes, until she stops at my side.
“I’m Professor Viridian, you must be Elodie Blackwood,” she states, and I nod.
“I am,” I mutter as she glances past me to Kael.
Her thin lips twist for a moment before she looks back at me. “Are you happy with your partner? I can choose someone who would be a patient mentor instead if you would prefer,” she offers, a level of kindness and comfort I didn’t anticipate.
“She’s good,” Kael grunts, not giving me a chance to answer, and her withering stare returns as she aims it at him.
“I was asking Elodie,” she insists, a softness crinkling the corners of her eyes as she gives me her attention again.
A hand lands on my thigh, squeezing in silent order, and I clear my throat. “I’m good where I am, but thank you.”
She sighs, the disappointment in my decision clear as she offers me the slip of paper. “If you change your mind, the offer always stands.” I nod, unsure what else to say, but she drops the topic in the next breath. “We’re looking at poppy seeds today. Are you good with that, Mr. Forrester?”
“Perfect,” Kael grunts, but she barely waits for his response, moving on to the following row.
“Poppy seeds?” I ask, noticing the small pouch attached to the sheet she gave.
