Chapter 5: The Whispers of Redpaveley (Continued - Part 3)
The bell for lunch didn't sound like a relief; it sounded like a battle cry. As we walked toward the Great Hall, Wolfie was silent, her footsteps heavy and purposeful. Every time an Angel passed us in the hall, she would stiffen, her nose wrinkling as if she were smelling something foul.
"She's a viper, Drayan," Wolfie muttered as we pushed open the double doors to the cafeteria. "Don't let the glow and the feathers fool you. Seraphina doesn't do anything without a reason. If she's interested in you, it's because she wants to destabilize the alliance between my father and yours."
"I can handle her, Wolfie," I said, though I wasn't so sure. Seraphina's words in class had been like silk-wrapped needles—beautiful, but designed to draw blood.
The Great Hall was a chaotic mix of species. The were-kin sat at long, rowdy tables, tearing into steaks and laughing loudly. The witches huddled over bubbling thermoses of tea, and the Angels sat at a circular table near the windows, where the sunlight hit them perfectly, making them look like a choir of statues.
Wolfie led me to a small, isolated table in the center—the "neutral zone." As we sat down, the room went quiet. It was the same "island" feeling I'd expected. We were the only Vampire-Werewolf pair in the room, and the visual of us sitting together was a direct threat to the old ways of Redpaveley.
I had just opened my bag when a shadow fell over our table. It wasn't a dark shadow; it was shimmering and bright.
"Mind if I join the celebrities?"
Seraphina stood there, holding a tray with a single glass of golden nectar and a small salad. She didn't wait for an answer. She pulled out the chair directly across from me, her white wings brushing against the back of it as she settled in.
"The table is full," Wolfie said, her voice dropping into a growl that made the water in my glass ripple.
Seraphina ignored her, focusing entirely on me. "Drayan, I was thinking about what you said in class. About monsters shaking hands. It was so... poetic. Most vampires here are so obsessed with their lineages and their 'ancient' coffins. You have a perspective the Academy is missing."
She leaned across the table, her hand—delicate and smelling of lilies—moving toward mine. "My family is hosting a private gala tomorrow night. Only the 'highest' of the celestial and blood-born families. It would be a much more... comfortable... environment for someone of your background than a rowdy wolf den."
The entire cafeteria was watching. I could feel Marcus and the werewolves at the next table leaning in, waiting for me to take the bait. I could feel Wolfie beside me, her body vibrating with a heat so intense it was nearly scorching. She wasn't just jealous; she was terrified that the "City Boy" would realize he belonged with the "Polished Angels" instead of a girl who shifted into a beast.
I looked at Seraphina's hand, then I looked at Wolfie.
Wolfie's eyes were fixed on her plate, her knuckles white as she gripped her fork. She looked small for a second—not the fierce girl from the gate, but the girl who had asked me to stay with her during the full moon. She was waiting for me to leave. She expected it.
I felt a surge of cold anger, but it wasn't directed at Wolfie. It was directed at Seraphina and the "perfection" she was trying to sell me.
"You're right, Seraphina," I said, my voice echoing in the silent hall. "I do have a different perspective."
Seraphina's smile widened, her blue eyes triumphant. "I knew you'd understand."
"I understand that you think feathers and light make you better than everyone else," I continued, my voice gaining a sharp, icy edge. "But I spent my life in a city where people hid who they were. I came to Redpaveley to stop hiding."
I reached out, but I didn't take Seraphina's hand. Instead, I reached over and took Wolfie's hand, lacing my cold fingers firmly through her burning ones.
"I'm not interested in your gala," I said, looking Seraphina dead in the eye. "I've already found the only person in this village worth talking to. And she doesn't need wings to be better than you."
The silence in the hall broke. Someone at the werewolf table let out a loud "Whoop!" and even a few witches started whispering frantically.
Seraphina's smile didn't just fade; it vanished. Her face became a mask of cold, celestial fury. She stood up, her wings snapping open with a sound like a whip crack. "A mistake, Drayan. You're choosing a life of dirt and fur over the heavens. Don't be surprised when the moon eventually bites back."
She turned and swept out of the hall, her golden hair trailing behind her like a funeral shroud.
Wolfie was staring at me, her mouth slightly open. The heat in her hand was still there, but the tension had vanished. "You... you just told the most popular girl in school to get lost."
"She was annoying," I said, feeling a rare, genuine grin pull at my lips. I squeezed her hand. "Besides, I already told you. I'm not going anywhere."
Wolfie laughed, a bright, beautiful sound that filled the hall and made the "island" feel like a kingdom. "You really are a trouble-maker, City Boy."
"Only for you," I replied.