He cleared his throat to speak in a hoarse whisper, and I had to strain to hear him over the chatting and posturing of the girls. “First, you stay alive. And then you must prove yourself better than all the others.”
We pulled onto a rough, cobbled drive, and the truck jostled Ronan’s body into mine. I inhaled sharply. I trusted this guy about as far as I could throw him. I would not be affected by the warm press of his thigh on mine. I would focus.
I’d focus and excel and stay alive. Long enough to escape.
“You’re here.” Ronan nodded to a forbidding structure that made me nostalgic for the fortress we’d just left. It was a rambling old mansion of pale reddish stone. Each window was a narrow Gothic archway rising to a fine point. A colonnade of lanky towers, chimneys, columns, and turrets gave the impression of a spindly, ethereal thing, reaching skyward.
“That’s my dorm?” As I got out, my eyes went to the clusters of bad girls spilling from the other SUVs, cursing their fates. “It’s like Hogwarts in Gangland.”
“This is the edge of the quad.” Ronan pointed to the tops of some other buildings just beyond the dorm. “There’s the Acari dorm, Initiate housing, academic buildings, and a chapel.”
“Chapel?” I was dying to walk alongside the building for a better view, but something told me that’d be frowned upon. “You’re shitting me.”
He rolled his eyes. “Annelise, your language leaves something to be desired. And, no, I’m not exaggerating. There is a chapel, though it hasn’t seen a priest in my lifetime.”
A tall black girl emerged from the building. Spotting Ronan, she approached us, a warm smile on her face.
“Here comes one of the Proctors now.” He pointed her out, but he needn’t have.
She’d stood out the moment she glided from the dorm. Dramatically so. She was gorgeous—what else?—but in a fierce, self-possessed way. Though she looked only about nineteen or twenty, something about her seemed much older. She wore a sort of catsuit in an austere navy color, instead of the gray Acari tunic. I knew without asking that I was looking at the uniform of an Initiate.
“Amanda.” The warmth in Ronan’s voice made me do a double take. A spurt of irrational jealousy made my belly lurch, and I swallowed it down.
“Ronan,” she replied with humor in her voice. She turned her attention to me, studying me with a speculative tilt to her head. “This one of yours, then?” She spoke in a thick Cockney accent.
I couldn’t take my eyes off her. Dreadlocks twined to her shoulders, but not in a Rasta way. It was more at tastefully bohemian, like a latter-day Lauryn Hill.
“Aye, one of mine,” Ronan said. “There are just two this time. I . . . lost one. During the Induction.”
“Let me guess. This would be Annelise. Though you prefer Drew, don’t you?”
I could only nod lamely, totally awed. Above and beyond her clothes and her hair, there was something in Amanda’s bearing that set her apart. Like she’d been tested and proven worthy. I saw it in her stature, in the steel of her dark eyes, and in the taut lines of her body visible beneath her clothing.
Lilac appeared from nowhere, shouldering past me. “Hope you survive the night, Charity.”
Her pack knocked me and I stumbled. I heard her trilling laugh, feeling my cheeks burn deep crimson.
Amanda chuckled, a rich, throaty sound. “Don’t mind her, dolly. There’s a slag like that in every batch.”
A laugh escaped me, like an awkward, relieved puff of air. Was this Proctor someone I could trust? I forced myself to remember I could trust no one. Least of all one of the Initiates the headmaster warned us about.
But Ronan seemed to like her. And, not too long ago, she’d have been just like me—a clueless girl in one of those SUVs. I remained on guard, but let myself be cautiously optimistic.
We watched Lilac prowl around the other girls like a lioness hunting for fresh meat.
“Who’s she?” Amanda asked.
“Lilac.” I rolled my eyes to show how ridiculous I’d thought that name sounded.
“Von Straubing?” The Proctor’s face was suddenly veiled. Even though this woman was a veritable stranger, I knew enough about body language to tell something was up.
“What?” I demanded. I could tell she was wary of telling me something. “What is it?”
“Sorry, dolly. I’m afraid Lilac’s your roommate.”
CHAPTER TEN
Cracking the door, I braced myself. It wasn’t every day a girl got to bunk with her archenemy. If I hadn’t already decided to get the hell out at the first opportunity, the privilege of rooming with Lilac for the next year would’ve been enough to drive me to swim to the mainland. And that from a girl who didn’t know how.