of room to spare for more. Ethan had taken great care forging this sword for me.
Still, the effort made me exhausted. Professor Calliope eyed me, as if she wanted me to try again, but didn’t force it when she saw how tired I was. My professors had been informed of my condition. I’d signed up in the Disability Office last semester when I got here and had forms delivered to all of them alerting them to my condition.
The only professor I truly regretted knowing was Lady Korva. She’d find a way to use my illness against me.
“Emma, are you okay? Your skin’s so pale,” Kiara said. Her attention drew away from the dagger to focus on me.
I caught my breath and forced out a joke. “I’m a ginger. I’m always pale, girl.”
Kiara didn’t believe me, but she didn’t press either. She turned her focus back to the dagger, though her eyes kept flickering my way.
I hadn’t told her about my disease yet. There was no reason to hide it from her, or any of my friends, but I still worried they wouldn’t look at me the same way. So I was trying to pretend I was normal for as long as I could— even though it was obvious I wouldn’t be able to conceal it for much longer.
“Do you want me to take your sword back to your dorm? I can grab our textbooks,” Kiara offered when class ended. I was wavering on my feet.
Kiara, Delmare and I were supposed to get together for a study session in the library. I had to go back to my dorm before then, but honestly, I didn’t know if I could make the walk there and back.
“That would be great,” I told her in relief. “Meet you there?”
Kiara nodded. She took my sword, then started down the hallway.
My gut churned in guilt. Kiara knew there was something wrong with me. I was doing a shitty job of hiding it, yet still, she wanted to help.
I had to get over it and tell her. Tell all of them.
I headed to the girls’ lavatory, to splash some cold water on my face. Maybe it would help.
Like the rest of Arcanea University, the bathrooms were beautiful. Wooden stalls, elaborate floor length mirrors and carpet floors made up the room, with special vanities for girls to put on their makeup. Every time I had to piss, I felt like a movie star.
There was one other girl in here, hiding in one of the stalls. As I was washing my face, I heard someone wretch.
I turned the water off and paused. It sounded like someone was gagging.
“Are you okay?” I asked, and the vomiting stopped. I wiped off my face with one of the hand towels before I knocked on the stall door.
The door opened. Bashfully, Odette emerged from the stall, a paleness in her cheeks.
Worry flooded over me and took over my veins like ice. I couldn’t tell the group about my CVID right now. We had bigger problems.
“Odette,” I started as she wiped her mouth with her sleeve. Her uniform, which had fit her perfectly at the start of the semester, sagged off one shoulder, exposing a bony arm.
“I’m all right,” Odette rushed to say. “I just don’t feel well. I have the flu.”
She had to be lying. “You were at ballet practice yesterday.”
“So? Athletes don’t get sick days. You know that, Emma,” she shot back.
I’d skated through colds and the flu plenty of times, but I knew that wasn’t it. “When was the last time you ate?”
Odette scoffed. “This morning. Quit pestering me. It’s not right.”
“What did you eat?” I demanded to know. Gods, I knew she’d been dropping weight, but I figured she was toning up due to all the practice she had day in and day out. I should’ve known better.
Odette wrapped her arms around herself. “I told you I’m fine. You need to believe me.”
She wasn’t going to budge. I sighed. “If you have the flu you need to go to the hospital wing.” The nurses there would see what was going on. They’d stop this.
Odette narrowed her eyes. “I’ll be over it in a few days. I just need to rest.”
“Rest isn’t going to help. If you want to keep the part of Juliet, you have to nourish yourself, and—”
“Stop it, Emma!” Odette shouted. I reeled back— Odette had never raised her voice to me, to anyone, so to hear her scream was kind of scary. “This part means everything to