front of everyone.”
Anger flares like a match head, my Fae side itching for a fight. “You can try.”
His throat dips, his fingers loosening their hold. “Look, you can’t be in here. All Evermore students have to dine in their own cafeteria. This is a safe space.”
I blink. I was not expecting that.
The fourth year jerks his head toward the door. “Now, before . . .”
“Before what?” Mack growls, chest flared, all five-feet-two of her ready to throw down. Her tray is gone, her hands balled into fists.
The biting pressure releases my arm as he lifts his hands, retreating a step. “I didn’t make the rules. Fae and mortals don’t eat together.”
My heart sinks. He’s right. That rule is for the protection of us—
Not us. Them, I remind myself.
Mortals.
I pocket the rolls, rake one last longing gaze over the human food—sloppy joes—and stack my tray with the others.
“See you after lunch?” I smile to hide my disappointment. The last thing she needs is to get written up for causing a scene.
She glares at the fourth year boy before turning to face me. “Sure. I think we have fifth period together.”
Except I’ll be there as an Evermore and she’ll be there as a shadow. I nod and turn on my heels, ignoring the stares and sneers as I leave. The Evermore lunchroom is the second-to-highest floor in the main campus. As soon as I enter the Fae half of the school, the energy in the air shifts.
Magic. It’s everywhere. Assailing my senses. Drifting over my skin. Begging to be used.
I never knew just how different Fae magic was until my own abilities awakened.
It’s like a thousand threads of energy drifting by. Some are electric, some like pulses of heat, some cool and aching. Tendrils of shifter magic caress my senses, and I clamp a hand over my mouth to swallow the very real urge to howl.
Eclipsa warned me this could happen, and I focus on my breathing. Deep belly-driven inhalations that fill my body and then release. Each breath adds another layer to the protective wall I build around myself until the magic fades to a dull prickle.
I round the final corner to the Fae lunchroom, my heart inching higher and higher in my throat with each step.
You can do this.
I swear the second I enter the room, every voice goes silent and every gaze flicks to me. My hands absentmindedly smooth down my blouse, leaving streaks of sweat as I meet the disdainful stares.
Their faces all scream the same thing.
You do not belong here.
You are not the same as us.
You are different.
“Freak,” someone coughs. Laughter commences.
Hardy har har.
Ignoring them, I force my legs across the black and white parquet floor. Force my chin up and shoulders back. I scoop heaping piles of spinach and lettuce into my tray, top the sad little hill of greens with as much feta cheese as I can find, and snag a glass of juiced celery and beets.
Everything is going better than expected until I cross to the open balcony doors. Picnic tables await beneath a warm summer sun.
Picnic tables brimming with Fae.
Just like that, I’m back in high school. A deep breath helps calm my nerves, yet I can’t help but think this was so much easier when I was mortal. Then at least I took pride in the fact that I was different.
Now that I’m supposed to be like them, our differences are like Ruby’s farts—impossible to hide from or ignore.
Their cruel beauty and sharp, glittering features. Their too-bright hair and flawlessly crafted clothes. Their too-big, animalistic eyes. The unnatural way they move so fast it doesn’t always register, so they either appear to be gliding on air or jumping through time.
I will never, ever be like them no matter how hard I try.
My dry throat convulses as I try to swallow.
A flicker of something draws my focus to a table off by the railing, and I find Valerian watching me behind heavy lidded eyes. Those ice-blue slits narrow to slivers, his full lips tightening until his face is a mask of disinterest. Inara practically purrs beside him. When I spot her arm snaked around his waist, rage surges through my veins.
Something possessive and wholly Fae rears its head deep within, and I choke down the growl hurtling up my throat.
It takes all my energy to lift my head, drag my gaze to an empty table in the center, and stroll forward instead of clawing Inara’s head from her stupid body and watching it