Page 40 of Taste of Thorns

By now, I am well and truly used to people staring at me and whispering behind their hands about me. I am no longer invisible. However, despite all the times I’ve endured people at this academy gossiping about me, I am still not prepared for the reaction I receive when Fly and I rush through the canteen doors eight minutes later, both desperately praying they’re still serving food.

As we do, the canteen falls deathly silent and every head, without exception, turns and stares my way. Fly and I glance at each other and hurry to the table to grab some remaining pieces of toast. Everybody watches us and I’m so self-conscious, I fumble picking up the toast and nearly drop it on the floor. A bead of sweat pools on the back of my neck and my heart thumps loudly in my chest.

As we walk across the canteen in search of somewhere to sit, the eyes keep right on following us and Fly finally snaps.

“Okay, folks,” he calls out, “what the hell is wrong with you? You never seen a short skinny girl and an exceptionally attractive young man before?”

A couple of people snigger, several seem to snap out of their trance and return to their breakfasts. Most people keep right on staring.

“Seriously!” Fly mutters, clicking his fingers in some boy’s face. “What is wrong with you all?”

“Did you really score maximum points in the trial?” some girl from our tower asks, staring at me with wonder in her eyes.

I feel my cheeks instantly catch ablaze and my tongue turns to lead in my mouth.

When it’s clear I’m struggling to form a coherent answer, Fly speaks up again.

“Yes, she did. Because she is amazing and wonderful and you lot have been too dumb to see it.”

“They probably gave her full points,” one of Odessa’s friends sneers, “because of who she’s sleeping with.”

I’m certain my cheeks actually catch fire and melt the skin off my face. Is she right? I feel like such a freaking fraud.

“If that were the case,” Fly says, tossing his head, “why didn’t she get full marks last time? Why haven’t all the thralls beaten the rest of us ordinaries?”

“Because she’s the thrall of the most powerful shadow weavers,” some other boy says.

“I’m not their thrall,” I mutter.

“But you are sleeping with them,” Odessa’s friend smirks.

“Is it because you’re sleeping with them?” the first girl says, obviously disappointed. My performance in that trial has clearly given some of the students from Slate and the other Quarters hope they too could achieve great things.

“I don’t know,” I say truthfully.

“No, it isn’t,” Clare says, standing up from where she’s sitting next to her new boyfriend and pushing her glasses up her nose. “Briony did really well in that trial. From what I’ve heard, better than the shadow weavers. She deserved to earn all those points.”

“Yeah, right,” Odessa’s friend sneers, but I’m not sure anyone else hears her, they’re all talking among themselves with excitement now.

I grab a seat in the corner, Fly takes one next to me and Clare comes to join us.

“It’s all anyone’s been talking about all morning. Everyone’s been watching out for you. You’re like a legend now.”

“Great,” I say, tearing off a large piece of toast with my teeth.

“It’s gotta be better than being hated,” Fly points out.

“I think I still have several haters.” In fact, I can spot most of them, they’re all throwing death stares my way. The other thralls, most of Odessa’s old friends, Stanley Fucking Chandlers, and those girls from Iron Quarter who tried to attack me on my first run at the academy.

Yep, I most definitely am not widely popular all of a sudden, even if I have won over a few new admirers.

Madame’s class is just like every other class she teaches. She fawns all over the shadow weavers and ignores the rest of us. I try to discern if she’s particularly flattering towards the Hardies, if there is any connection between them at all, but I can’t see that there is.

However, she does throw derogatory comments or cutting remarks my way occasionally, despite the way Dray glares at her each time, and she makes absolutely no mention of the trial or the points scored.

I’m more than happy with that; after breakfast, I’d rather forget it.

“You want to come round tonight and sit on my face, Kitten?” Dray asks way too loudly as we leave the classroom at the end of the lesson, doing nothing, I’m sure, to quell that rumor that sexual favors have earned me those points in the trial.