Page 9

Chapter 8

Selestina

I drop my duffle at the foot of one bed, feeling the heavy thud as it lands on the floor. Every muscle in my body protests as I sink down onto the mattress, letting the exhaustion hit me like a wave. I close my eyes, relishing in the silence that wraps around me like a heavy, comforting blanket.

I let out a deep breath, my body sinking deeper into the thin, slightly lumpy mattress. Dried lavender clings to the air, maybe, a mingling musty smell of old wood and age worn fabric. A strange combination, yet oddly grounding. I’m about to let my mind drift when…

The door crashes open, slamming against the wall.

So much for peace.

I open my eyes just in time to see a girl stride in, her movements quick and sharp. She’s taller than I expected, her presence filling the space instantly. Her skin is a rich tan and her hair, long, dark, and wild, curls down her back in thick waves. It reminds me of Rafael, which sends a tinge of sadness to my stomach, but I shove it away as quickly as it came .

There’s a fierceness to her, something electric and crackling, as if she’s barely holding herself back from some silent fury. And her eyes, piercing and blue, like ice under moonlight, fix on me with immediate disdain.

“Who the fuck are you?” she demands, tossing another of her bags onto the opposite bed with such force, I think her bed might actually break. Her voice cuts through the air, full of a venom I wasn’t prepared for.

“Selestina,” I reply, keeping my voice steady, meeting her glare with one of my own. I don’t bother standing; I’m too tired to play this game on her terms. “And you?” I ask, although I already know her name—Nasarea, scrawled in a looping script across her luggage tag.

“None of your business,” she snaps back, her gaze looking over me with obvious disgust. She’s judging me. Sizing me up and finding me lacking. It’s okay because I am doing the same thing, and while I try to mirror her disdain, deep down, I see a strength in her.

Her lip curls as she takes in my travel worn clothes, the dirt mixed with blood staining my boots, and the tangled mess of my hair. “I’m supposed to have my own room,” she hisses, her voice laced with irritation. “Not stuck with some…” Her nose wrinkles, and she waves a dismissive hand in my direction. “…dirty…rat.”

I hold back a smirk, forcing myself to stay calm despite the heat of her glare. “Nice to meet you, too,” I say dryly, rolling my eyes. “Here I was, thinking I’d be besties with my roommate.” I am mostly joking but I can’t help the sting that this wasn’t just a little more easy. Not even half an hour here and I feel like I am already making an enemy.

She plants her fists on her hips, shifting her weight like she’s getting ready to fight, her gaze locked onto me with a challenge. The air between us feels charged, a taut line stretched too tight, waiting to snap.

“Listen,” she says, voice dropping low, as if the warning alone could make me back down. “I don’t know who you think you are, but you’d better watch your mouth.” Gods. She sounds like Alexander’s chihuahua. All bark and no bite.

“Or what?” I push myself up, sitting up on the bed so I can meet her glare head on. I feel a smirk tugging at the corner of my lips, daring her to do something about it. “You gonna fight me?”

Her face flushes with anger and her fists clench tighter at her sides, but there’s hesitation in her expression, a hint of uncertainty. Like I have caught her bluff. She recovers quickly and her sneer snaps back into place like a shield. “Fuck you,” she spits, her voice full of anger.

I can’t help but laugh, a low, mocking sound that echoes in the small room. “Fuck you, too,” I reply, leaning back and crossing my arms, matching her glare with one of my own. She might think she can intimidate me, but I’ve faced far worse than a roommate with a bad attitude.

We settle there, glaring, locked in a silent war. The tension between us is so thick, it’s oddly amusing. I can feel the heat rising in my cheeks, my heart pounding with that familiar, electrifying pulse that only comes with a good fight. But this…this is different. There’s a fire in her gaze that matches mine, like a mirror made of spite and stubbornness.

“Why don’t you take your shit attitude and shove it straight the fuck out of my room?” Nasarea hisses, folding her arms across her chest, her eyes narrowed to icy slits.

I raise a brow, matching her glare with one of my own. “This is my room.” I say as I spread my arms wide, mockingly looking around. “Headmistress Mirella just walked me in here.”

Her eyes flash, and I can almost see the storm building behind them, a tempest of rage and pride about to snap. She is apparently ready to leap at me, hands balled into fists and jaw so tightly clamped I half expect it to crack. Instead, her mouth opens, and I see in that fractional second that she's lost for words. It's too much. I couldn't hold it in anymore.

A giggle bubbles up in my throat, and I try, I really try, to smother it. But it slips out, turning into a full blown laugh that I can’t stop, each one louder than the last. I lean back against the bed, clutching my stomach as laughter wracks through me.

She stares, stunned, her expression twisting from fury to pure bewilderment. “What the fuck is so funny?” Nasarea snaps, her voice tight with barely contained irritation.

“Your face.” I manage between fits of laughter, wiping at my eyes as if that would help me pull it together. “The way you look like you’re about to implode because you have me as a roommate.” I bite down on another laugh, but it slips through anyway. I take a deep breath and let it out to try and calm my laughter. “Now do us both a favor and stop glaring at me so I can go to sleep.”

She looks ready to explode, again; the anger radiating off her in waves, her hands clenched so hard her knuckles turn white. For a moment, I think she might actually throw a punch, and the thought almost makes me laugh harder. Instead, she lets out a frustrated huff, a sound that’s somewhere between a snarl and a sigh, and spins on her heel, giving me her back.

“Whatever,” she mutters, her voice brimming with exasperation as she yanks her bag open, shoving clothes onto the shelf with forceful precision. “You’re insane,” she whispers, half to herself, shaking her head as she starts her unpacking, stuffing clothes onto the shelves like they personally offended her. “I swear, they’ve put me with a lunatic.”

“Funny,” I say, leaning back with a smirk, “I was thinking the exact same thing.”

She turns to face me and her eyes narrow, and she lets out a sound of pure frustration…again, turning back to slam clothes into wherever she can fit them.

I turn away, staring up at the ceiling, fighting to still the chuckles that keep bubbling, a stupid grin still tugging on my lips. This ridiculous infuriating exchange, this silly bickering I'd never allow myself the indulgence of before, it's like tasting something I didn't know I was starving for. The thrill of it, the rush of adrenaline, the absurd satisfaction of holding my ground, of pushing back…it’s exhilarating.

Despite her sharp tongue, despite the scrunch of her nose like she'd rather be somewhere else, there's something almost strangely comforting about it, almost like…a normal girl fight.

I close my eyes, letting out a deep breath as the exhaustion of the past few days washes over me, and for the first time, I feel the tension in my shoulders ease. Making sure I have my hand wrapped around the handle of the dagger, I let myself start to drift off.

Maybe, just maybe, this place will be different.