Chapter 311. Back To School, Again

Chapter 311: 311. Back To School, Again

Maisie

It was far more likely that an unhinged demon had drawn a random symbol than Soren’s dead mother was alive and in the castle.

And even if my first guess was right--and it wasn’t--how was I ever supposed to investigate? Getting anywhere near the castle grounds was impossible. My mates were banished. Soren was on the Council now, sure, but that didn’t mean he had his privileges back. And considering the Queen had tossed Mercer in a dungeon, they obviously weren’t on best of terms.

Either way, we were never getting in.

I dozed at some point while mulling over the impossibility of it all. And perhaps because I was so drained, my nightmares were too tired to pursue me for once.

I slept more fitfully than I had in months, only faintly stirring late in the night when I felt Jericho’s warm lips skim softly over my forehead, but I was far too groggy to open my eyes or register his words.

When I finally woke up, bright morning sunlight was streaming through the high arched window, bathing the dorm room in a golden glow.

The spot beside me was empty, though the mattress was still warm where Jericho had been holding me.

I sat up, glancing around the room in search for him and paused when I found my sweats from yesterday neatly folded on the chair and Jericho’s clothes gone.

I deflated like a balloon. He left without saying bye.

The scent of coffee tickled my nostrils and I pulled back the covers, striding over to the table. I fought the rising grin on my face at the full wooden tray of breakfast. I took the coffee mug, brow arching at the small note stuck on the side of it.

Jericho’s elegant scrawling had, "Morning, malyshka."

I bit my bottom lip hard to fight another smile. It was just coffee. And breakfast. I wasn’t swooning over it.

Next to the tray, my textbooks were arranged in a pile so straight it bordered on severe OCD. I frowned when I noticed more bright pink sticky notes poking out from the pages of each book in elegant, precise scrawls.

I pulled the first note off my history text.

"You missed a few days of Zaytsev’s lectures," Jericho’s handwriting read. "She probably still resents you for stealing my heart, so she will attempt to embarrass you in front of the classroom. Read pages 142–148. Focus on the third paragraph regarding the 14th-century treaty. Ignore the rest."

I let out a soft laugh, shaking my head as I opened the page to the lesson on how humans came to coexist with lycans and wolves and the laws put in place to make said coexistence palatable to all parties.

Jericho had taken it upon himself to circle the texts with cute little arrows, "Read me, baby."

I laughed again, moving on to the next note attached to my notebook.

"Therapy at 11:00. Wear something nice."

I stared at the slip of paper. Wear something nice.

He made it sound like a date.

Oh goodness. Was it like a secret date thing?

A sudden wave of heat flushed through my cheeks. I flopped backward onto my bed, burying my face in a pillow, kicking my feet in the air like a giddy high school girl while a ridiculous, irrepressible giggle bubbled up in my chest.

Then I sat bolt upright, slapped both of my hands onto my burning cheeks, and shook my head hard. "Focus, Maisie!" I scolded myself aloud. "It’s just therapy. Who gets excited for therapy?"

But as I bit my bottom lip, another quiet giggle escaped.

Goddess, I’d almost forgotten what it felt like to just be a normal. To have simple, shy, happy feelings instead of dying, dodging death and problems that were centuries older than me, and crazy people.

It felt incredible.

Springing up from the bed with a stupidly wide grin, I headed straight for my closet to fish out something nice.

***

I held my books tightly to my chest as I slipped into the familiar hallways of Greymoor.

School was back in full swing. Even though half the east wing was still boarded up with plywood and scaffolding from the attack, everyone else was acting like nothing had happened.

Making out in the hallway, gossiping against the lockers, alpha heirs and their betas hooting in the corner and girls blowing on their gum, twirling their hair around their fingers as they ran eyes over them.

You wouldn’t have guessed we’d all almost been slaughtered last week.

I braced, waiting for the usual hostility I was often met with--and maybe some more pig’s blood--but it never came.

The whole hallway seemed to quiet down as I passed, but the usual heat of their hatred was completely gone. In its place was curiousity, and perhaps I was imagining it... but there was respect.

When I accidentally made eye contact with Tucker, he flushed red and ducked his head. A girl who sat behind me in class last year--I think her name was Heather--gave me a timid, apologetic little wave as I walked by.

I blinked, pulling my books closer. What the hell was going on?

By the time I reached my locker, I couldn’t even see the metal door.

There was a literal mountain of flowers piled up against it. It looked like a floral shop had exploded in the middle of the hallway. There were bouquets of white lilies, blood-red roses, rare midnight orchids, and pastel arrangements from packs I’d never even heard of, spill-over notes trailing onto the floor.

They were all get well soon cards, and I stood there, completely stunned, my mouth slightly open.

"Crazy, right?" a loud, bubbly voice popped up right next to my ear.

I jumped, turning to see a girl standing beside me with flawless glossed lips, perfectly styled beach waves, and a phone mounted on a ring-light stabilizer pointed straight at her face. She wore a cropped Greymoor jacket, but the gold crest on her bag screamed high status.

"Hey, guys!" she chimed into her camera, flashing a blinding, camera-ready smile before looking over at me. "I’m here with the girl of the hour herself!"