Page 63 of Lessons in Touch

We sit like that in the candlelit chapel, and we hold each other while Christmas carols play softly from hidden speakers. I couldn't find peace in prayer, but I found it in her embrace.

"We'll figure this out," she murmurs against my chest.

"I hope so."

But even as I hold her, even as I let myself believe for a moment that love might be enough, I know the truth. Cassandra's video is a sword hanging over our heads.

And eventually, it will fall.

Chapter 21

Rose

All the students of Wolfswood are at their usual tables in the dining hall, catching up after the Christmas break. Everything looks the same as it did three weeks ago—but something feels different. Maybe it's me.

I spot an empty table near the windows and make my way over there. I set down my tray of food and settle into my chair.

"Well, well. Look who's back. Oh, wait. You never left. Because you have nowhere to go, do you, orphan?"

I don't have to turn around to know who's speaking. Cassandra's voice carries that particular tone she reserves for moments like this. I take a bite of my salad and keep my eyes on my plate.

“I’m not an orphan, Cassandra. Where did you even get that from? I have adoptive parents and an entire family behind me. The Devereaux, in case you didn’t remember.”

"Right, yeah… I forgot,” she laughs at me. “I hope you had a wonderful holiday, Rose." She slides into the chair across from me without invitation. She has that familiar expression on her face of barely contained amusement. "Though I imagine it wasn't quite as luxurious as what the rest of us are used to."

"It was fine, thank you." I meet her eyes directly. "How was yours?"

"Oh, you know. The usual. I went to Aspen, and then to Paris for New Year's. Daddy bought me a little apartment there as an early graduation gift." She examines her manicured nails. "I suppose that's the difference between old money and... Well, whatever it is you have."

A few students at nearby tables have started to listen. I can feel their attention like a weight on my shoulders. But I keep my expression neutral.

“What do you want, Cassandra? To tell me you went to Paris? Great… So did a million other people. My grandma went last year.”

She looks shocked. Like she wasn’t expecting me to dismiss her holidays like that.

"The Devereaux name might get you through these doors," Cassandra continues, "but we all know you're really just a charity case. An orphan who got lucky with a DNA test."

The dining hall has gotten quieter, and more heads are turning our way.

"I mean, it's quite inspiring really," she continues. "From some kind of orphanage to a private university like Wolfswood. Though I have to wonder what other... shortcuts you've taken to get where you are."

The temperature in the room seems to drop. I set down my fork carefully.

"Because let's be honest," Cassandra's voice is clear now, "we've all noticed how much time you spend in certain professors' offices. Very dedicated to your studies, aren't you? Especially the private tutoring sessions."

Some students’ burst of laughter eco in the dining hall. Not everyone joins in, but enough for my cheeks to burn with humiliation. The familiar panic rises in my chest. That terrible feeling of being exposed, of everyone seeing exactly what I am.

For a moment, I'm back to being that scared girl who first walked through these doors. The one who felt so small and out of place that she wanted to disappear entirely.

But then I remember Gabriel's voice from one of our lessons.

Power isn't about being the loudest person in the room, Rose. It's about knowing exactly who you are and never apologizing for it.

I take a slow sip of water. The panic fades. It’s replaced by something calmer and far more steady. I look directly at Cassandra.

"At least I'm not wasting a privileged life on being cruel and insecure. I know exactly who I am, Cassandra. Do you? No, you don’t. You are nothing beyond this. A spoiled brat who thinks that being mean and condescending is attractive."

“What are you talking about?”