My fingers run along the lines that had been crudely etched into it, and it’s like my brain can’t make sense of it. Rayne was the star pupil, representing two powerful families. Wouldn’t he have sat in the front of the class? Would he have ever carved his name into school property?
Tossing my bag over the back of the chair, I sit down, my knees shaking a little. Maybe I didn’t know my brother as well as I imagined. The thought guts me, almost like I’m reliving his death all over again. But then I push the thought aside. I knew Rayne. Someone else must have carved the name.
“Your brother sat there.”
I look up in surprise and find the ghost from the night before sitting at the desk next to me. She’s a little more transparent in the light, but otherwise she has the same light blonde hair braided and tossed over one shoulder, and the same almost-pink gown.
“I find it hard to imagine my brother sitting back here,” I confess to her. Because, really, who would she tell? Another random dark fae?
“Why’s that?” she asks, curiosity on her face.
“He was always the golden boy. He was the best at everything he did, and everyone liked him. I would’ve thought he’d sit in the front of the class.”
Her brows draw together. “Rayne was beloved by many, but not all. He challenged a lot of what they taught. And although the lessons seemed easy for him, his ideas weren’t always popular.”
“What ideas?”
She looks surprised. “That the dark fae shouldn’t be treated as less than by the light fae.”
Every muscle in my body tenses. No, Rayne had to be smarter than that. With a father as a dark fae, he had to know that saying such blasphemy would only get him into trouble.
“Why would he ever do something like that?”
She runs her fingers over a few stray hairs, and the pieces seem to float for a minute before she answers. “I thought you’d know better than me.”
“I should know,” I say, my voice strangely bitter, “but apparently I didn’t know my brother half as well as I--”
I hear the door open and stop talking a second too late. A man enters the room. His hair is golden and flows down his shoulders in a way most women would envy. His cheekbones are high, and his forehead is high. All things that should make him handsome, by traditional standards, and yet he feels too feminine for some reason. Almost delicate.
When his gaze meets mine, he looks startled. “Who are you?”
“Esmeray.”
His eyes narrow. “A Bloodmore.”
“Yes.”
“And who were you talking to, alone, Lady Bloodmore?”
“Myself,” I answer without hesitation.
He leaves the door open and enters the room, setting some folders and papers down on a desk. Every movement he makes is irritated. Unable to help myself, I reach out with my powers. Within this man, I taste anger, resentment, and even jealousy. I start to feast on his negative emotions, drawing them in slowly. Sometimes powerful fae can feel when they’re being fed on, and the last thing I wanted was for this professor to know I could feed on his dark emotions.
Then hiding the fact that I was a dark fae would be impossible.
He looks up again, his gaze meeting mine, and suddenly all his emotions are sealed away. “Why do you hide your emotions from me?”
“Why do you hide yours from me?” I counter right back.
His lip curls, and he plants his hands firmly on the top of his desk. “Listen here, Bloodmore, your brother was a troublemaker, and you saw where that behavior got him. If you want to do better, I suggest you don’t follow in his footsteps.”
“Is that a threat?”
He smirks and turns away, grabbing a piece of chalk and starting to write on the board. “No, my dear, light fae don’t threaten people.”
I don’t miss the way he says light fae, like he doesn’t believe for one second that I am one. Not that he isn’t right, but I don’t exactly appreciate his arrogance, or his tone.
I’m about to say more, when a group of fae women enter the room, giggling and chatting. They don’t even notice me as they walk in, but one woman flips on the light, and they all sit at the four seats near the door. Two men enter next, and they look tired as hell, but when their gazes land on me, they freeze.
Lifting a brow, I dare them to approach me. Smartly so, they