The Cursed Series, Parts 3 & 4 (Cursed #3-4) - Rebecca Donovan Page 0,60
in color and design. She’s wearing bright red micro soccer shorts with a white mesh hooded crop top and a lime-green bra beneath. She has the sleek form and sinewy muscles of a dancer. I can’t stop staring even though I know I should. She blatantly takes me in from over Ashton’s shoulder as well.
“Hi, I’m Arden.” She offers me her hand when Ashton releases her.
“Lana,” I respond, shaking it. “I’m your neighbor.”
“Wonderful!” Arden exclaims, her eyes glowing in delight. “I was just making tea. Do you want some? It’s this incredible jasmine blend we picked up in China over the summer.”
“Ooh, that sounds amazing,” Ashton coos.
“Come in.” Arden holds back the curtain to invite us into the other half of the room. “Oh, please take off your shoes first.”
If the first half looked ultramodern and lacking of … everything, this half more than makes up for it. It’s like we’ve walked into a tranquil garden. Somehow, they were able to make a wall of pebbles with water cascading down in a quiet trickle. When I step into the space, my feet sink into the softest white carpet I’ve ever felt. It’s like walking on a cloud.
“Sit,” Arden prompts us as she prepares a tray from a tall, dark wooden sideboard tucked under the window.
I look around for a table but then realize that a small pond at the bottom of the pebble wall is topped by a glass tabletop. Around it are pillows of various shades of pink.
I glance at Ashton, who is soaking in every detail with wide eyes, and lower onto a pillow. I peer through the glass table to admire the pink flowers floating in the pool of water the size of a round coffee table. It’s elegant and serene. Maybe I could actually figure out how to meditate in one of the plush fur-covered pods under the pagoda on the other side of the room. I’m guessing her bed is on top, hidden by a white silk curtain embroidered with pink flowers. The pagoda is lined with long, rectangular boxes of pink orchids and bamboo.
“Your room is truly spectacular,” Ashton says in awe, her eyes continuing to roam around the room. “Who’s your designer?”
Arden joins us, setting down a tray displaying a delicate floral-painted teapot and matching cups. She’s included a bowl with mini sugar cubes and another with honey and a tiny spoon.
“Antonio. He’s a genius.” Arden tips the pot, pouring the tea with such precision, it looks like an illusion.
Ashton helps herself to a cookie, catching the crumbs in a cupped hand under her chin.
“Have you been here all summer?” Arden asks me, drizzling a dollop of honey into her cup.
“Sadly,” I answer.
“Yeah, we arrived a couple days before the rest of the summer students,” Ashton explains. “The school felt even more haunted than usual.”
“Wait. Why did you get here early?” I ask Ashton, remembering Grant’s theory that it wasn’t a coincidence.
“Brendan asked me to.” Of course, it was Brendan. “And they wanted me to start at the country club as soon as possible.”
“Oh, that’s terrible,” Arden says with pure sincerity. “That means you’ve had to put up with the Court being transformed every other minute.” She looks to me. “And this is your first year, right? How did you survive it without going insane?”
“That’s debatable,” I say with a roll of my eyes. “Do you mean the Court doesn’t change during the school year?”
“Not like the summer. The Poppy Institute is given restrictions during the school year. They can’t change the pathways, but they can decorate the gardens for the seasons.”
“How come you never told me about this?” I ask Ashton, who’s already on her third cookie.
“Um …” She considers it for a second, chewing on a mouthful before answering, “I guess because the Court always confuses me, no matter what season it is.”
Arden laughs. “The Poppy Institute’s an agricultural school that’s allowed to use the Court for their landscaping installations. I’ll explain it to you later,” she tells me. “I’m going to crash early because I’m suffering from crazy jet lag. But what are you ladies doing tomorrow?”
“I was thinking of going to Stefan’s party. Wanna come?” Then she looks to me and frowns. “Sorry, Lana.”
“Only one more week,” I chant like I’m giving myself a pep talk.
“Are you on restrictions because you’re new?” Arden glances between us, her eyes squinting like she knows it’s a much more interesting story than that. “Or did something happen?”