I wanted my life back. The kitchen implements were just a symbol.

Eating with the Council had been a whole different level of uncomfortable. Mostly because I’d been watching the door, waiting for Anna to come in, and also because they kept looking at me like I was some exotic creature. Good thing I wasn’t planning on doing it ever again.

I felt the eyes on me again. Was everybody looking?

A flash of red caught my attention. Kir, across the lunchroom at the entrance to the hall leading to the teachers’ wing. He inclined his head slightly, drew back into the shadow of the hall’s entrance, and vanished. Had he noticed that I’d seen him?

A faint taste of waxed oranges slid across the back of my tongue.

What the . . . I stared at the empty archway, my fingers still glued to the locket’s curve. The metal cooled under my fingertips. My thumb rubbed across the spidery symbols etched on the back, their edges suddenly scraping-sharp.

I knew he was definitely on Anna’s side. What was this, then? A message? Just to throw me off or scare me?

It worked. My heart was pounding, and my palms were slippery.

Leon made a short annoyed sound. “Don’t stare. You think we’re the only ones watching you?”

“No.” I found my voice. “No, really, I don’t think that at all.” Chew on that. I headed for the steam tables again, but the funny thing was, I’d lost my appetite.

Graves and Benjamin appeared as I set my tray on the table that we’d claimed my second day here. I tried asking what the hell that was about, but neither of them answered. Instead, they both tried so hard to amuse me I was able to just make noises and let them circle each other verbally. I shoved my food around with my fork, and afterward I couldn’t even remember what I’d been not-eating.

A couple of weeks went by, and no Anna. I stayed as close to Graves and the wulfen as I could, and I noticed some of them—tall boys with muscled shoulders and a habit of dropping their heads and stepping aside when I glanced at them—showing up in the halls and sticking around. Benjamin said nothing, but I caught him and Leon exchanging glances. The blonds seemed oblivious, but their shoulder holsters were now in plain sight instead of quasi-hidden under jackets.

I kept hoping Graves would decide to come back up on the bed. But no. He went back to sleeping on the floor in his sleeping bag, and he moved the bag a little farther away each night until he ended up almost at the door.

So I just went to class, kept my eyes and ears open, did my homework, and endured Aspect Mastery as well as I could.

It was the only school I’d ever been to where I actually looked forward to gym class. At the other Schola the directive had been to stop me sparring with anyone. All part of the plan to keep me dumb and vulnerable, and poor Dylan hadn’t known what to do. I hadn’t been there long enough for him to figure out how to go about breaking the rules over me either.

Here, though, things were different.

I hit the mats hard and bounced up, warmth flooding my body as my teeth tingled. “Very good!” Arcus yelled, teeth white against the darkness of his face. “Turn, turn turn!”

I did, instinctively throwing an elbow up to catch his strike. My arm went briefly numb; his fist headed for my face. I ducked aside instead of back, grabbed his wrist with clumsy fingers, and pulled. My teeth stopped tingling and ached, a bolt of warm sensitivity crackling along my jaw, and the fangs would have dimpled my lower lip if my mouth hadn’t been open while I gasped for air. Sweat flew as I helped him fly past me, my knee bolting up. The strike had no weight behind it because I had to fall back and get my balance.

He whirled on the balls of his feet, the change rippling under his ebony skin. Wiry dark hair sprang loose, crawling up from his flesh like a fast-forward of plants growing. He was built like a football player, and pretty graceful too. His wide nostrils flared, taking in quick sharp breaths. “No! Press your advantage while you can!”

“Don’t have the footing!” I snarled back. “You’d knock me over!”

“Then you shouldn’t lose your footing, girl!” He spread his arms, the crackling of bone receding as he dropped back into human form, hair retreating along his cheeks.

I skipped back half-nervously, hands up and ready. Watched him.

He feinted; I didn’t fall for it. Moved closer, looked like he wanted to close with a jab or two, but I faded to the side. As long as I had plenty of room I wasn’t doing too badly. He hadn’t pronounced me completely hopeless, at least, which I’ve heard he sometimes does.

They had me sparring with wulfen teachers here because the happy stuff in a svetocha’s blood—the same stuff that will make me eventually toxic to suckers after I hit the girl version of the drift and bloom—tends to drive djamphir a little crazy once it hits oxygen. Wulfen can smell it, sure—but it doesn’t drive them nutzoid.

Not any more than just-plain-human blood does. Which is to say, just a little. But I wasn’t bleeding yet. And Arcus was careful.

All the same, I wondered why Dylan hadn’t just had a wulfen teacher start training me. But he’d been a by-the-book sort and terminally indecisive as well. I couldn’t hold it against him, though. Seeing as how he’d done the right thing and given me the unedited transcript.

And seeing as how he was probably . . . dead.

I ignored that thought, too. While I was fighting I didn’t have to think about any of that. It was pure action and reaction, and sometimes I even forgot what was going on and thought it was Dad pushing me to work harder, be faster, think better.

And at the end of gym class, I could usually steal ten minutes or so for t’ai chi in the locker room’s echoing damp-fogged space. The familiar movements soothed me, and after the first half-minute I didn’t care so much that I was basically practicing in a bathroom. Do it where you gotta was one of Dad’s mottos.

Or was it a mantra? That’s one of those questions that’ll drive you crazy.

Arcus blurred in, with the spooky streak-on-glass speed wulfen use, and I went down hard. But my sneaker came up, socked a good one into his midriff, and he tumbled over me with a short growl of surprise. I rolled, gaining my feet in a graceless lunge, and skipped back some more. A curl had worked loose of my braid and fell in my face, blonde veining along its length as the warm-oil feeling of the aspect flooded me in fits and starts.

It was doing that more and more lately. I was closer than ever to “blooming” and having the real fun begin. When I hit my drift, I’d suddenly be faster, stronger, harder to kill. I’d become toxic to suckers. I might even get a bit taller or have my weight distribution change, which I figure was a fancy way of saying might get more breasticles maybe. My face might change, too. It would happen over a week or so, and afterward the real fun would start.

Yeah. Couldn’t wait. Not.

Arcus should have been coming after me like a freight train. Instead he’d frozen, looking up over my shoulder. I didn’t snap a glance to see, but the silence filling the long windowless room wasn’t normal. Usually, this gym is full of first-year students learning katas or doing light sparring. The mats covering the floor are in good repair, and there are even bleachers pushed up against the walls, ready to be pulled out for basketball games.

I hear wulfen are really big into hoops. Hadn’t seen a game yet, though. Djamphir are supposed to play polo or lacrosse. I mean, what the hell? I’d rather watch werwulf basketball any day.

Arcus straightened. He cast me an unreadable glance, and I was vaguely gratified to see he was sweating a little too. I must’ve given him a run for his money.