Page 72 of Ruthless Chaos

Tara clicks her tongue. “So, you guys are through?”

“We were never together, I told you that,” I say, rolling my eyes.

Tara’s almost through my hair. “You’re the first girl who’s had his attention for longer than a night.” I feel good about that, strangely. “He’s the literal king of the campus, and he clearly has a thing for you.”

“King? That seems like a stretch.”

Tara chuckles, but doesn’t say anything else.

Her words stay with me, though.

I’m the first girl who has held his attention for this long. That can’t be a good thing, given how precarious my situation is at this place. I’m supposed to be invisible.

One wrong move, and I’ll end up blood eagled.

Even so, I still feel drawn to him, like a moth to flame.

* * *

The Council Nomination Ceremonytakes place on the lawns of the history building.

It’s a long way from Hemlock House, so we’re transported by bus to the location. I’m thankful. If I had to walk, I’m sure I would pass out.

A large, vaulted tent sits in the middle of the field, decorated on the outside with flowering vines of hydrangea and six-foot-tall rose arrangements. Bistro tables wrapped in silk are dotted around the perimeter of the fence, and at the northernmost corner, a thirteen-piece band is set up.

The musicians play a cheery tune that glides by on the crisp afternoon air.

There must be nearly a hundred rows of seats under the large tent, set back from a huge platform bearing thrones embellished with satin sashes in gold, green and red.

Some are already seated under the tent, while others are mingling around the bistro tables, snacking and chatting with each other. White-gloved servers flit amongst the crowd, bearing trays of food and flutes of champagne.

It looks like the perfect garden party, but I know better than to be fooled by their pretenses. All this extravagance is just a cover for their savagery.

I grip Tara’s forearm to steady myself as we walk up the stone path that leads to the seating area.

Every single one of these people have blood on their hands.

I can’t allow myself to be fooled by their…normalcy.

The deeper I ingrain myself into Saint Frederic’s twisted, ruthless society, the clearer the stakes become.

I will never be safe here.

“Look, there’s Nya,” Tara exclaims, waving her hand over her head.

It takes me a few moments to pick her out of the crowd.

When I find her, my jaw drops.

Even in these ancient clothes, she’s a vision of elegance.

Her dress is the color of sunshine, the perfect complement to her dark skin. Her hair is half-up, with gold coils wrapped around the locks that frame her face.

“You look amazing,” I say when she’s closer. “This is your color!”

She smiles, taking my arm. “You look great too.” Nya pauses to look me up and down, testing the material of my dress between her fingers. “If anyone can pull this dress off, it’s you. Heaven knows I couldn’t.”

Her laugh is infectious, and I laugh too. Tara gives me a knowing look, as if to say she was right all along. I wrinkle my nose in response.