Of far greater concern was the revelation that my ex-roommate—who had quickly and effortlessly assumed the role of arch-nemesis—had just saved my life.
What the fuck was I supposed to say to that?
•—•—•
The Academy Healers may have trusted Balm—still the dumbest codename I’d ever heard—to patch me up, but that trust had its limits. I had to wait another twenty minutes for one of the pros to come and double-check the little ginger’s work. Finally, after a lot of poking and prodding, mixed in with muttered comments about both the number of ribs I had showing and the boniness of my exposed ass, the older woman nodded in satisfaction.
I waited another half-minute, as the two of them reviewed what Balm had done, how, and why, before finally interrupting, waving one hand at my still-naked body. “Can I get my clothes back or should I just head outside like this? Not entirely sure how the Academy feels about dicks swinging in the breeze.”
Shane went beet red again, but his counterpart, the same woman who had treated me on my arrival to the Academy, was made of sterner stuff. “I suppose that depends on the dick in question. As for your clothing, we had to cut it off of you … not that what remained would’ve been salvageable if we hadn’t.”
“So what am I supposed—?”
“Shockingly, you’re not the first person to end up naked in the med ward. Usually, there’s alcohol involved though.” She nodded to the far wall. “Grab a set of fresh sweats from the third shelf before you blind us all.”
I’m pretty sure that was a comment on my pallor and not the brilliant, awe-inspiring sight of my all-too-visible appendage. I swung my legs over the far side of the table, and scurried to the shelf in question. The sweats came in five sizes; small, medium, large, extra-large, and what-the-fuck-are-they-feeding-you. I grabbed a large and pulled on both the pants and long-sleeved top. Then, over one shoulder. “Do I need to bring these back when I’m done with them?”
“Do we look like a laundry service?” Despite the words, her voice was almost kind. Maybe naked Crow affected her more than she was letting on. If she hadn’t been pushing sixty… nah, it had been a long time since Alicia, but there were still limits. “Keep them as a replacement.”
I nodded in thanks, waited for her and Balm to head over to the still-unconscious Jeremiah… and then stole another set of sweats.
A few more near-death experiences and I might end up with a full week’s worth of clothes.
CHAPTER 21
After all that time entombed in Nikolai’s bunker of pain, the sun was painfully bright, hanging like an angry god in the crystal blue sky. The med ward was a few buildings from the arena, connected by little more than an underground hallway, and it took me a few moments to get my bearings. Once I did, I headed over to where Gabriella Stein taught Control. Limped over, if we’re being truthful. The faculty felt we’d learn better if the Healers only mostly healed us, so even though nothing was broken, punctured, or collapsed anymore, I had bruises fucking everywhere.
I wasn’t trying to make it to class, and not just because it was almost over. If nearly dying meant I got to skip school for a bit, I was good with that, even with Gabriella Stein being the embodiment of every teacher fantasy I’d never thought to have. Control was the one powers class we had five days a week, so there’d be plenty of opportunity for me to sweet talk my way into Ms. Stein’s heart. Like Tuesday, for example.
So no; I didn’t go because I wanted to attend class. I went because all of the other first-years would be there. More importantly, Matthew would be there.
Obligations are a bitch, but you can’t just dream that shit away.
Most of the campus buildings held classes for both Powers and regular students. Nikolai’s bunker was one exception. Ms. Stein’s sunlit studio was another. The fewer people around the better when you’re trying to teach first-years how not to crack the world in half. When the bell rang, and students poured out of every other classroom, the Control building stayed quiet at first. Simple law of numbers; five hundred shits in a building means some of them are pretty damn close to the door, and some of them are pretty damn anxious to get out. A mere twenty-one shits, half of whom were probably lusting after Ms. Stein as much as me? It took my fellow first-years a solid minute or two to emerge.
The first was Olympia—because of course it was—walking arm-in-arm with a raven-haired smoke show whose curves would put vid stars to shame. I’d noticed the brunette in Nikolai’s class, of course—pretty sure her name was London—but she’d been part of the second pairings, and I hadn’t paid any attention to her fight.
I was beating myself up over that little fact just then. She wore the same grey sweats as the rest of us, but like Olympia, she actually made them look good.
Both women saw me at the same time. Both stopped. Olympia’s light went out, again, and London’s pale skin went even paler.
“Ladies.” I nodded.
Neither said a word, spines suddenly stiff like someone had insulted their mothers. Instead, they gave me a wide berth, eyes never leaving me, but never quite meeting mine. It wasn’t until they were past me, merging back into the sea of humanity, that they began to speak again.
To each other, of course. Not me.
Made me miss Alicia, to be honest. Sappy shit, for sure, but also true. Girl never cared that I was a Crow. Girl never cared that I
