unfortunate looking. I hand over my phone and allow him to go through my belongings and look for contraband.
Occasional shouts and laughter echo along a hallway upstairs. Adult voice mingled with teens; anger mixed with amusement. Trepidation builds in my churning stomach. How long will I be kept here? My crime surely can't be as severe as those around me. I used illegal magic, yes, but I never hurt anybody.
The bespectacled guy shoves my rucksack back across the table towards me and makes a note on a form. I stare at the pile of random items as he places them in a plastic bag. How is a wooden emery board contraband? Surely sharp nails would be worse than neat ones?
"Will I get my things back when I leave?" I ask him.
He gives a small shake of his head and continues to write on the form, a pitying smile on his face.
I look away with a sigh, and the guy who accompanied me from the boat reappears from wherever he took Dorian. A girl accompanies him, partially hidden behind as she follows him downstairs.
“Oriana, this is Eloise. Eloise, meet your roommate.”
She moves past him and stands at the bottom of the stairs, arms folded around herself. Her bright purple hair and multiple piercings instantly scare me. I've not dealt with many outside of my family’s inner circle, and this girl looks like somebody I'd rather avoid.
Oriana’s hair partially covers her face and is shaved up one side. A purple dragon tattoo spreads from her neck along a slender shoulder before delving beneath her loose black tank top.
"I hope you're less trouble than my last roomie," she says in a voice with an Eastern European lilt, and her emphasis on 'roomie' mocks me.
"Eloise will be one of our more cooperative residents," says Luca with a smile. "Won't you?"
I return the smile at his veiled threat and nod in agreement. Oriana steps forward and studies me. "Are you a witch?"
"She is, yes."
I side glance Luca, annoyed at him speaking on my behalf again.
"Cool. That'll help you gain favour with Dorian and Zeke."
"What?" I ask, disgusted by her undertones.
She smirks then gestures at my bag. "Are you coming with me? I can show you the awesomeness of your new home."
I haul the rucksack from the floor. "Is that it?" I ask Luca. "The end of my 'processing'."
"For now. In the morning you'll meet Francesca and Angus who are the two heads of the academy." He pauses. "You'll want to be well-rested before your meeting."
Omigod. What will they do to me?
Oriana huffs. "Come on. I'm busy."
Luca wanders over to pick up the form from the guy with glasses, takes a cursory glance, and hands the paper back to him.
"Welcome to Ravenhold. I'll see you in the morning." Luca strides away, and the white door at the end of the hallway bangs closed as he walks through.
Oriana scratches a pierced eyebrow and turns. "Don't look frightened."
"I'm not."
"Liar."
At least her smile is friendly even if her appearance isn't. "You're lucky you're rooming with me. I'm nice."
I follow Oriana upstairs, and she pauses to gesture either side of her where the narrow hallway decorated with flaking cream-coloured pain stretches to separate staircases.
"Down that way to the classrooms; straight on to dorm rooms." She jabs a finger upwards. "The younger kids live up there."
"There are young kids here?" I ask. "How old? I thought this place was for teens."
"Youngest is twelve. Almost a teen. The staff keep a closer eye on them until they're sixteen. They're kept safe."
Safe.
Two guys rest against a wall outside a room with an open door hand one pulls on his bottom lip as he watches me pass. His bronze eyes unnerve me, and the black outlining them reminds me of a tiger's.
He's lithe, like Dorian, and as tall, with messy blond hair. Black lines ink his bare arms, and for a moment, I imagine them as stripes. His feline appearance and markings leave no doubt in my mind—he's a shifter.
The second guy matches him in build, and I shiver at the thought all the guys in this place have unhidden power in their bodies. He's pale with striking blue eyes, rimmed the same way, but I can't see if his arms are tattooed.
The blond guy runs his tongue across his teeth and stops his tongue on one of his longer than average canines.
"Evening, sweetheart." His voice purrs seductively but triggers hairs on the back of my neck as he rakes his gaze the length