Page 40 of Wicked Chains (Serpentine Academy #2)

Thirty-Seven

Rose

By dinner time I’m bored, and hungry enough to go to the dining hall, even though it’s bound to be busy at this time of the day.

Sure enough, the hall is packed, and noisy with the crowd of students chattering, but whatever is on the menu tonight smells absolutely mouthwatering, and my stomach is growling audibly.

I slip in, intending to grab my food quickly and find a table out of the way, where I can sit alone.

I barely make it three steps before I sense the eyes on me.

All of them. Thorne’s table goes silent as I pass.

The twins from my Magical Theory class nudge each other and snicker.

I’ve been at Serpentine Academy long enough to know that the only thing this place loves more than a winner is a loser.

Especially one who goes down in flames. And these people look at me like I’m about to be tossed on a pyre.

I try to ignore it. I make straight for the serving line, grab a tray, and keep my eyes on the food—roast chicken with sage and apple stuffing, fluffy mashed potatoes with heaps of melting butter, golden and airy popovers, and fresh cranberry sauce with orange zest. I grab a bottle of water, say thank you to the server, and scan the room for a free spot.

I’m halfway to a table by the window, close to the door but off to the side, the one place you can sit with your back to the wall—when a voice cuts through the din of the crowd.

“Rose Smith. How nice of you to join us.”

No. No, no, no.

The room goes silent so fast it’s like someone pressed mute. Even the cafeteria workers look up, scoops of mashed potatoes arrested mid-air.

Helena stands at the head table, flanked by two creepy Blood Moon Coven members, her red hair coiled tight and her lips painted a shade of violet that no person with any complexion looks good in. Her eyes are on me, cold and gleaming.

I take a deep breath, set my tray down on the table, and turn to face her.

“Headmistress Helena,” I say, dipping in the world’s worst curtsy.

A ripple of laughter moves through the room. I hear Thorne’s nasal giggle, which is the closest thing on earth to nails on a chalkboard.

Helena is not amused.

I glance around for Lucien and Soren, but neither is in sight.

“Your recent escapades have not gone unnoticed.”

For a minute I panic, wondering if she’s talking about my meeting with Ollie, but if that were the case she wouldn’t be accosting me in the dining room.

I feign ignorance. “No idea what you’re talking about, sir.”

She cocks her head. “I wonder, Rose, do you think you’re above the rules here? It’s unacceptable.”

There’s an excited murmur that runs through the room. This is what they live for, the rich little monsters. A public execution.

Helena steps toward me, her heels clicking on the polished floor. “I mean your disrespect to me, Miss Smith. To this institution. You are unacceptable. You will show respect. Kneel.”

For a second, I think she’s kidding. Then I realize she’s not. There’s an expectant hush. I glance around the room and see that Thorne looks like she’s about to puke with anticipation.

I shake my head. “Hard pass.” She can’t control my body like Ash can, and I will not kneel for Helena Wickersly. I surreptitiously dismiss Hank, keeping him out of harm's way this time. If she wants to fuck with me, fine. But she does not get to fuck with my frog.

Helena stops two feet in front of me. Her voice is lethal. “Kneel.”

I don’t move.

Helena’s eyes are slits.

But I won’t kneel. Not for her.

Helena leans in, her lips at my ear. “You don’t want to test me, Rose. I can do things to you that make Ash look like a choirboy.”

“Then do it,” I say.

She presses down with the magic, and for a second I think I’m going to bite it right here. Instead, I bite my lip hard enough to taste blood.

I feel a rush of air and then a blur of black suit and pale skin.

Lucien appears at my side, cool as you please, and catches me under the arm. His touch is gentle but unyielding. “Enough,” he says to Helena, and his voice is pure ice. “You’re making a spectacle of yourself, Wickersly.”

“I am asserting order,” Helena replies. “Something you seem to have forgotten, vampire.”

“You call this order? You’re humiliating a student to prove a point.”

Helena doesn’t even look at him. “If she won’t kneel, then she will be made an example.”

A second presence slides up beside me. Soren, wearing that shit-eating grin, but his eyes are flat and black, dangerous. “I think that’s enough, Headmistress. You’re becoming quite boring, actually.”

For a moment, I think maybe I’m safe.

Helena tilts her head, assessing the two of them, and then she smiles. “You boys want to protect her? How sweet.”

She snaps her fingers.

An invisible force slams into Lucien and Soren, sending them skidding backward ten feet. Lucien lands on his feet, barely, but Soren actually goes down on his ass, which would be funny if I wasn’t about to die.

Helena steps closer, her voice pure ice. “Last chance. Kneel.”

I look her right in the eye. “Fuck off.”

She raises her hand. I brace for the impact, the crack of bone or the snap of my own free will. But instead, something else happens.

A door slams open at the back of the hall, hard enough to shake the chandeliers.

Ash storms in.

He’s not even pretending to be civil tonight. His green eyes burn, and there’s a set to his shoulders that makes half the room instinctively recoil. Every student he passes shrinks away, all their shitty smugness gone in an instant.

When he gets to us, he doesn’t waste time.

He puts himself directly between me and Helena, his back to me, facing her down with all six feet five inches of pure rage.

“She belongs to me,” Ash says, voice so loud the silverware rattles. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Helena doesn’t blink. “You forget your place.”

“My place,” Ash says, “is at the head of the Blood Moon Coven. You answer to us.”

The whole room is frozen. No one, not even the other faculty, is brave enough to move.

Helena sneers nastily. “You think you’re in charge?”

Ash leans forward, eyes locked on hers. “Try me.”

Lucien and Soren are both back on their feet now, but they keep their distance, watching like they know this is a battle above their pay grade, and they’d only make it worse by interfering.

Helena finally speaks. “She is disruptive. She refuses to submit to authority.”

“She submits to me,” Ash says, and I can feel the truth of it, the way the contract binds us. “And if you have a problem with that, you can take it up with the coven.”

Helena laughs. “The coven is mine.” The two Blood Moon members are still beside Helena, but they look less certain now.

They stare each other down for a long moment.

He turns back to Helena. “If you ever touch her again, I’ll feed you to your own familiar.”

Now is not really the time to be thinking about anything but saving my own ass, but it occurs to me that I did not know Helena had a familiar. It makes sense, she’s a witch, but I’ve never seen it. I briefly wonder what it is—maybe a dung beetle or, even more fitting, an anglerfish?

“Your inappropriate attachment to this girl is unbecoming as leader of the coven, Ash. And I’m not the only one who thinks so.”

The two Blood Coven members are now stepping backwards, inching toward the exit.

He ignores her, taking my hand. “Come with me,” he says. I don’t argue.

He leads me out of the hall, but before we reach the door, Helena calls after us.

“This isn’t over, Rose Smith. I’ll see you on your knees before I’m finished.”

Ash turns, his face carved from stone. “Say that again.”

Helena just cackles.

He pauses, looks at Helena, and does something I never would have expected.

He raises his hand and gestures. “You want to see someone kneel?” he says. “Then kneel.”

There’s a power in his voice, a supernatural authority that reverberates through the hall.

Helena scoffs, but her knees tremble.

“I said, kneel.”

The command is laced with magic. Helena might be a centuries old, powerful witch, but Ash?

Ash has control of my natural magic.

For a second, it looks like Helena might be able to fight it, but then she drops to her knees.

The room gasps. Thorne’s phone, because of course she wouldn’t miss a chance to capture my imminent demise on video, clatters to the floor.

Ash holds her there for a full minute, the ultimate humiliation, before he releases her.

Helena rises awkwardly, her face gone white with rage, and stalks out of the room, her little coven lackeys long gone.

“Let’s get you out of here.” He doesn’t let go of my hand, and I don’t try to pull away. I glance back at Lucien and Soren, who are watching what has just unfolded, but they aren’t intervening.

Helena Wickersly will never, ever forget this.

I’m toast.