“How’s class, kiddo?” Leo says, reaching out a long-fingered hand to ruffle Sabrina’s hair.
She nimbly slips his grasp, falling into pace next to Hedeon instead. Hedeon pretends not to notice, but pulls his shoulders back all of a sudden, standing taller.
“Class is great,” Sabrina replies. “I knew you guys were exaggerating when you said Kingmakers was hard.”
“Or you’re just smarter than us, is that what you’re saying?” Leo laughs, shaking a finger at her.
“I dunno.” Sabrina grins at him wickedly, “Can the same cousin be the smartest AND the best looking?”
“No fucking way are you the best-looking cousin!” Leo scoffs, genuinely offended.
“You don’t care if I’m the smartest, though,” Sabrina snorts.
“Fuck no,” Leo says. “That’s why I’ve got Anna here, in case I need to fill out a crossword puzzle.”
Anna Wilk has just caught up with us, her fair hair twisted up in a knot on top of her head, and her tights artfully shredded beneath the hem of her black plaid skirt.
Leo grabs her hand and pulls her close so he can kiss her.
They make a striking couple: Leo tall and tan, with a dazzling smile and the easy grace of an athlete, Anna stark and pale, her ice-blue eyes cutting straight to the soul.
This is the other reason I’ve been nervous to join Sabrina’s table in the dining hall—every damn person she associates with is gorgeous. They all have this glamor around them, even Hedeon with his perpetual scowl, and Leo’s tall friend in his shabby uniforms and cheap shoes—Ares, I think he’s called.
I fall into step by Ares, noticing that our strides are almost exactly the same length. I look up at his face—it’s nice to look up to someone again. Makes me miss my dad.
He’s got a lean, tanned face. A dark thatch of hair with streaks of sun in it. His eyes are mostly blue with a little green in them. I think Sabrina said he was Greek—he must be, with that name.
“I’m Ares,” he confirms.
“Nix,” I hold out my hand.
I’d stopped doing that, with the reception I’d been getting from my fellow students. But I forgot, and now I have to watch the shudder of repulsion that crosses his features before he forces himself to take my hand and give it a brief shake.
His hand is warm. I can feel the bones shifting beneath the muscle and skin, like deep tectonic plates.
“You’re Sabrina’s roommate?” he asks.
“That’s right.”
“I room with Leo.” He nods toward Leo Gallo, who’s now whispering something in Anna Wilk’s ear, to which Anna grins and agrees.
Ares has a deep and resonating voice. It vibrates across my skin, like a bass speaker set too close.
His eyes, as beautiful a color as they may be, are not pacific in any sense of the word. They’re fixed on me with frightful intensity. I’m becoming too used to this to care, but I get the sense that he loathes me. That he hates me on sight, when I’ve only spoken three words to him.
After we’ve all filled our trays at the dining hall, I’m surprised that Ares voluntarily sits next to me on the long wooden bench. Sabrina drops down on my other side, Hedeon Gray directly across from her, and Anna Wilk and Leo next to Hedeon.
Cara Wilk arrives a few minutes later, squeezing in beside Anna.
The sisters are a fascinating lesson in genetics: their coloring completely different, but their features almost identical. As if they were formed from the same mold but painted in alternate shades. If they were fairies, Anna would be the ice queen, and Cara the woodland sprite. Cara’s dark hair and hazel eyes were made for the green of the school uniforms.
“How are you doing, Nix?” Cara says to me cheerfully.
I haven’t seen much of her since the ship ride over. The Accountants and the Heirs only share a few classes.
“I’m great,” I say. And then, more honestly, “Pretty good, at least.”
“Kingmakers is an adjustment,” Anna Wilk says in her low, clear voice.
She’s watching me without the same level of friendliness as her sister. Hedeon likewise seems to find my presence unpleasant. Only Sabrina seems completely relaxed—I guess she figures if I were gonna shank her in her sleep, I would have done it already.
I hate this pariah feeling. It makes me anxious and aggressive, when usually I’m cheerful and aggressive.
How am I supposed to prove I’m a decent person when I feel ready to snap at any moment?
The more I try to act “normal,” the more unnatural everything feels. I hardly remember how to hold my fork.
“Have you met everybody?” Sabrina says, looking around the table.
“I think so,” I say.
Even as she’s asking, a tall blond boy, a petite girl, and a black-haired guy with a scar across his right eye all crowd onto our table.
“We’re running out of seats!” the blond boy complains.
“I’m not sitting back over there with Valon,” the black-haired one says, jerking his head toward a table on the opposite side of the room. “He chews so fucking loud.”
“That’s Dean Yenin, Cat Romero, and Bram Van Der Berg,” Sabrina helpfully informs me.
Her introduction draws three pairs of eyes in my direction. Bram scowls until the scar across his eye forms one solid line.
“What the fuck is she doing here?” he says.
“She’s my guest,” Sabrina informs him icily.
I’ve had enough of this shit.
“What do you care where I sit?” I snap. “I don’t even fucking know you.”
Bram’s face fills with blood, his skin flushing red and the scar turning white. He leans across the table, his nails digging into the wood.
“Oh, you don’t know me?” he says softly. “You’ve never heard the name Bram Van Der Berg before?”
“No,” I say, frowning.
“What about Frans Van Der Berg? He was my uncle. He taught me how to fight and how to drive. Then he made a deal with your father. And somehow he ended up upside down in a vat of acid, with all his fuckin’ teeth pulled out. Does that sound familiar to you?”
My stomach feels like it had a rock shoved down inside of it. I can feel everyone at the table watching me.
“I don’t know what happened to your uncle,” I say stiffly. “And I don’t think you know the whole story, either.”
“I know what your father did,” Bram hisses.
His teeth are bared, his hands trembling like he’d like to wrap them around my throat.
Everyone else at the table is silent, staring at us like Bram is the judge and they’re the jury.
To my surprise, it’s Ares who intervenes.
“She’s not her father,” he says. “We all have violent histories. The point of Kingmakers is that you’re supposed to leave the grudges at the door.”
“Fuck that!” Bram spits, thrusting his tray away from him and standing up. “And fuck you,” he snarls at me, before turning and stalking out of the dining hall.
Dean Yenin stands up as well. “I’ll go talk to him,” he says, resting his hand on Cat’s shoulder. “Stay and enjoy your dinner, my love.”
Cat’s cheeks flush pink, drowning out her freckles. She squeezes the hand on her shoulder before letting him go.