Page 22 of Wicked Chains (Serpentine Academy #2)

Twenty

Rose

The main event of Family Day is the party in the Great Hall.

Huge quantities of fresh flowers, all of them bloody red, spill from every surface, doing very little to make it look less like the chamber of horrors it is, considering the rituals that take place in here.

Parents dripping in diamonds and platinum, air-kissing and fake-laughing, make their way into the room like they're on a reality show about rich people problems.

I adjust my dress, conjured up after a bit of trouble, and try to blend into the background.

It's black, it’s tight, and it fits like it was made for me.

And it has pockets, for Hank. I never thought I’d miss Mrs. Bright, but after my nineteenth attempt I was wishing she was still around.

Twentieth time was the charm, however, and I managed to create something suitable, without three extra armholes.

"Drink, miss?" A server in a crisp white jacket and a black tie appears at my elbow, offering a tray of flutes filled with bubbling golden liquid.

"God, yes." I take one, downing half of it in a single gulp. “Thank you.”

Outside the large, leaded windows, I watch as another helicopter descends onto the academy's lawn, which has been transformed into a temporary helipad for the day.

Because of course these people can't just drive here like normal humans.

A family emerges, mother in Chanel, father in what I'm sure is a hand-tailored designer suit, and a teenage boy who looks like he'd rather be anywhere else.

The food tables are over-the-top excessive, even by rich people standards.

Towers of lobster claws and shrimp arranged in spirals.

Wagyu beef sliced paper-thin on little crostini with dots of truffle aioli.

Caviar on tiny blinis with mother-of-pearl spoons.

And the worst part? Half of it's being wasted.

As I watch, a woman in a red dress takes the tiniest nibble of the beef, frowns, and sets it back on a passing tray.

"It's not hot enough," she complains to her husband loudly enough for the server to hear and look mortified. "The kitchen staff here has really gone downhill."

I grip my champagne flute tighter, fighting the urge to dump it and escape back to my room.

"Enjoying the festivities, Miss Smith?" Helena Wickersly's voice slices through my thoughts, dashing any hope that I could slip out of here unnoticed. She's wearing a deep purple dress that makes her look like an eggplant with shoulder pads, her hair adorned with an assortment of large feathers. I wonder if she’s got an aviary of exotic birds stashed somewhere. It’s all very Cruella de Vil-coded.

"It's magical," I deadpan.

Her smile doesn't reach her eyes. "Do try to look a little less miserable. We have important benefactors here today. Your attitude reflects on the academy."

"I'll work on my grateful orphan routine right away."

Helena's eyes narrow. "Mind your tongue.

You're here on sufferance." She glances around, making sure no one important is within earshot.

"I didn't want you at this event at all, but Ash insisted.

God knows why. Stay out of trouble," Helena says, before gliding away to simper at a group of severe-looking alumni.

I grab another glass of champagne from a passing tray and retreat to a corner, watching as students reunite with their parents, with formal handshakes and nods, like they are business acquaintances, not family.

It’s nothing like how things were with my mom.

She hugged me every day until she died, and we were so close we could finish each other’s sentences.

We used to have so much fun together, one of the things I miss the most about her is her sense of humor.

The littlest thing would set us off and we’d be crying from laughing so hard.

If she were here with me right now, we’d be in fits, watching these people.

I’m glad she’s not though. I wouldn’t want her to see the situation I’ve gotten myself in, without her around.

It’s almost a blessing that she never had to know about this.

I feel tears gathering at the corners of my eyes, so I down the second glass of champagne and set it on a nearby table, only to watch it immediately get snatched up by a harried-looking server.

That's when I spot Ollie, weaving through the crowd collecting discarded napkins and glasses.

He looks exhausted already, and the event's barely started.

When our eyes meet, he offers a small smile that feels like the first genuine interaction I've seen all day.

"Hey," I say, moving toward him. "How's it going?"

Ollie glances around nervously, clearly worried about being seen talking to a student. "Fine, miss. Very busy today."

"Yeah, I can see that." I nod toward the food tables. "Have they at least fed you guys? The food looks amazing."

His eyes drop. "Staff's not allowed to eat the event food. We get our regular meals in the kitchen."

"Seriously? But there's enough here to feed the entire academy twice over."

Ollie shrugs, resignation written across his face. "It's always been that way."

I glance at the mountains of delicacies being picked at and discarded. "That's bullshit."

"It's just how it is." He starts to move away. "I should get back to work before someone notices."

"When's your break?" I ask suddenly.

"Fifteen minutes at two o'clock," he says, looking confused. "Why?"

"No reason." I smile innocently. "See you around, Ollie."

As he disappears back into the crowd, I grab a plate and begin a casual circuit of the food tables, selecting the most expensive-looking items—a few slices of that wagyu beef, some lobster, a spoonful of caviar, tiny chocolate truffles.

I tuck a cloth napkin over the top and casually make my way toward the service corridor.

At exactly two, Ollie emerges through a side door, wiping sweat from his forehead. He startles when he sees me lurking.

"Miss? What are you doing here?"

I reveal the plate with a flourish. "Brought you something. Quick, before someone sees."

His eyes widen. "I can't—if they catch me?—"

"They won't. I'll keep watch." I press the plate into his hands. "Come on. This stuff is actually pretty good."

Hesitantly, Ollie takes a bite of the beef. His eyes close briefly in appreciation. "Oh wow."

"Right? Now try the lobster."

He does, and a smile breaks across his face. "This is incredible."

"The perks of being disgustingly rich and powerful, I guess. Great food."

Ollie chews thoughtfully. "Thank you. No one's ever..." He trails off, looking embarrassed.

"Don't mention it." I shrug, uncomfortable with gratitude. "Consider it my small rebellion against this whole ridiculous spectacle."

"Still. It's kind of you."

I flush, waving away his thanks. "Just eat before your break's over. And hide that plate when you're done. Can't have evidence of our food heist."

Ollie grins, transforming his tired face. "You should get back before they miss you."

"Trust me, nobody's missing me out there." But I do need to return. Helena's already looking for reasons to punish me. "I'll see you around."

As I walk back, I brace myself to reenter the circus of excessive consumption and extravagant waste. At least I managed to do one useful thing today.

But as I step back into the gleaming, glittering crowd of people who belong here in a way I never will, that hollow feeling returns to my chest.