worry about Kai's comment—Dorian has a seductive effect on witches. He can be persuasive, but he's not a rapist."
"Witches can't let vampires close in that way, anyway. They could die."
"That way?" She frowns. "Oh! Fuck them, you mean? Outside rules don't apply here.”
I fight embarrassment at her crude word and my naivety. “Eloise, pay attention to the Ravenhold rules, or you could add years to your stay here."
I ask the question I'm scared to know the answer to. "How long have you been at Ravenhold?"
Oriana holds out a hand and counts on her fingers. "Almost three years. Since I was sixteen."
I could ask why she's here, but again, ‘head down and mouth shut’. I'll find out soon enough.
Oriana remains standing as I unzip my bag and stare inside. I want to sleep, but I don't feel safe without casting a ward on the door. "Can I try a spell?"
She stares at me and my dumb question. "Uh. The island's wards will suck the spell power from you. If you're powerful, that'll take a few days, but I'd advise against using magic. You don't want to be locked in solitary for a few days until they're sure you're neutralised."
"Right." I eye the floor in front of the closed door.
"You want to ward the room, don't you? Go ahead tonight, but once you have your key, I wouldn't take the risk."
Oriana reaches for the door handle, and I tense. "Are you leaving?"
"I have things to do. I won't disturb you when I come back. Or are you a light sleeper?"
"Not normally".
Oriana leaves, and I kneel on the floor to use my index finger to trace a pattern on the cracked tiles close to the door. The runic symbols glow, and a blue light spreads between them until they interlock.
Sinking back on my heels, I take calming breaths.
I'll need more than wards to keep myself safe here.
Chapter Four
I jerk awake as a shrill sound screams into my ears, and I clamber from my bed. Oriana lies on her back and yawns.
“What’s happening?” I grab my jeans and drag them on, almost tripping over as I hop on one leg. "Is there a fire?"
“Nah. Time to get up and start the day!” she replies with mock excitement. “Another fun day in the Ravenhold Holiday Camp.”
My shoulders sag in relief as my vision of dying in a fire leaves. “Right.”
The shrieking sound continues, and Oriana swears before placing hands over her ears. “Hell, I’ll never get used to that bloody noise.”
I dress quickly as the cool air slaps away the warmth from my body. Oriana climbs out to pull on clothes too, and I turn my back. I’ve never undressed or dressed in front of somebody before. Apart from the time Ivan forced me to.
Bile rises in my throat. At least I won’t see him while I'm here. But what if something worse than him lurks in the academy?
Oriana drags her blue hair from her face as she searches the floor for a discarded top and reveals scarring on her left cheek. Aware I’m staring, I look away.
Omigod, I hope that didn’t happen here.
I spent a peaceful life on my family's estate, set amongst picture-perfect rolling hills in the English countryside. The surrounding gardens were evergreen, thanks to a combination of human gardening and elemental magic, the grounds filled with roses and birdsong.
Ravenhold couldn't be more opposite.
The siren may be silent now, but the grey hallways are filled with shouting and laughter.
Leading us out of the room, Oriana barges through groups congregating in the narrow hallway between our room and the stairs, but nobody responds. Everybody shoves into each other as they attempt to move from their rooms to the stairs.
A mid guard, with ursine eyes and brown fur across his face, intervenes as two girls begin an argument at a volume to match the siren that woke me.
I stare at the floor as I follow Oriana.
The dining hall isn’t far from the building entrance, where the doors are now closed and the guards on the inside. There’s no need to guard outside—if by any miracle someone managed to land on the island, they'd never break through the academy's wards.
Students are dressed haphazardly, some in jeans and others in dresses. I stuck to jeans and a dark shirt, but Oriana wears bright pink stockings, a baggy black t-shirt and a tiny black skirt, her legs ending in Doc Martens. Definitely not a school or prison uniform. Is this individuality something Francesca implemented too?
Guards do wear