Page 22

Chapter

Seventeen

Bloom

Coven’s Brew

I skipped breakfast, still unnerved, bracing for the school’s inevitable interrogation.

By the time I’d gotten through two classes, my stomach growled in protest. In the hallways, every conversation revolved around Angelina’s murder.

I received enough cutting glares to last a lifetime, unkind whispers trailing me like arrows.

“Did you see Angelina?” a boy called out, his voice too loud. “Her neck was snapped like a bird’s.”

“We never had a murder here until the new girl arrived,” a girl said, deliberately not lowering her voice as I passed. “They say she brought the dead to our gate too. Thank the gods for the ward.”

The accusations coiled in my gut. The thought of facing more over lunch at Midnight Banquet Hall made my appetite vanish.

“We don’t have to eat there,” Sindy said, appearing beside me as if she’d sensed my dread. “I know another place.”

Relief unspooled the tension in my ribs. “Thank you,” I said.

We slipped out of the Celestial Dome, following a winding path along the border of the Fae Copse woods. A small structure came into view. Coven’s Brew Café stood like a relic of another time. Its black iron framework supported stone walls that tangled with red and black vines.

“The owners are a mage couple,” Sindy said as we approached. “Antonio’s from Colombia, and Wei’s from Singapore. They specialize in exotic teas and cakes.” She dropped her voice. “They also deal in potions and curses, if you know how to ask.”

“Love potions are illegal though, right?” I asked.

“Nothing’s illegal here except fucking a professor,” she said.

My heart skipped a beat. If only she knew…

A chime announced our entrance. Inside, wrought iron tables dotted the space. Purple candles burned in skull holders despite the daylight. Glass cases held pastries too exquisite to eat, some glowing faintly with enchantment.

The mage couple greeted Sindy like an old friend.

Antonio, tall, brown-eyed, his left temple inked with sailor’s tattoos, gave us a nod.

Wei, shorter and sharp-featured, his hair knotted tightly back, studied me but stayed silent.

They seated us near a window overlooking the shadowed fringe of the Fae Copse.

We ordered the cheapest items; two turkey sandwiches, tea, and sponge cakes. Sindy had credits with them from handling their bookkeeping and insisted I didn’t need to repay her.

The academy’s charity kept me afloat, just as Angelina had pointed out. After being kidnapped and brought here, I owned nothing. The reminder bit deep, but I shoved it away.

For a while, we ate in silence. The tea was fragrant with spices—good, but I could’ve brewed better. Plants and herbs were my affinity, though I kept that to myself.

“Bloom,” Sindy murmured, “do you think the killer’s watching us right now? Scanning the crowd for the next victim?”

Dread coiled tight in my stomach. I set my teacup down, fingers shaking.

“We should stay alert,” I said quietly. “Angelina wasn’t the target. She was a message.”

“To who?” Sindy’s eyebrow arched, her tiny black brow ring glinting.

“To me,” I whispered. “Maybe to you. To every redhead.”

Her auburn hair billowed in the draft. It was darker than my fiery red but a shade brighter than Angelina’s had been. The memory of Angelina’s broken body, her red hair matted with blood, was seared behind my eyes.

My gaze darted around the café, my eye twitching in warning. I couldn’t shake the feeling of someone watching me, goosebumps crawling over my skin. The killer was still here within these walls, still hunting.

“We don’t go out alone, Sindy,” I said. “Safety in numbers. And no night outings.”

She widened her eyes. “Not even parties? We’ll be social pariahs. Hiding in fear just to be safe isn’t a life worth living.”

The memory of a decade of caged “safety” wheeled back—locked away, shielded from every shadow. I’d sworn never to be trapped again, not by love or fear or manipulation, the day I entered Forsaken Academy.

“You’re right,” I said, relaxing my grip on the teacup. “But we stay sharp.”

“We will.” Sindy smiled faintly. “Glad we’re roommates. And friends.”

Through the window, a figure strode toward us. Orren, his face etched with its perpetual worry, pushed inside. The door’s bell clanged like a warning as he halted at our table.

“You’re summoned. Both of you. About Angelina.” His voice was grim, his eyes lingering on me as if willing an unspoken message across.

“By who?” I asked. Dread trickled through my veins.

“Whom,” Orren corrected.