Page 7 of Mayhem

“I’m a big fan of unhelpful signs. They build character and lawsuits.”

Devon shifted his bag higher on his shoulder and nodded toward the opposite path. “Come on. We’re heading that way. First day is easier if someone tells you which doors pretend to be public and which ones will embarrass you in front of finance majors.”

“I’d hate to be embarrassed in front of finance majors,” I spat back, and took one last look past them. Nichlas was farther away now, still close enough to reach if I ignored every promise I’d made before breakfast.

Priya fell into step beside me. “The east wing doors lock after six unless your ID has lab access. Library stays open late, but the upper floors are mostly claimed by people who aren’t really there for reading. Those floors are also usually reserved so stay away unless you have an invitation. Dining hall is decent if you avoid the fish, and the coffee in the main hall tastes like that instant bullshit.”

I bit the inside of my cheek because I actually liked the instant stuff depending on where it was bought. “I would have expected more rules for the tuition required to come here.”

I hadn’t paid more than a few thousand after finding grants and scholarships to pay me for attendance. No fucking way was I dropping nearly $75k a year on an education.

Maren walked on my other side, letting out a small sigh. “Graduate housing has card access after nine. If your ID glitches, don’t ask the front desk guy with the beard. He’ll make it your fault. Ask Tessa if she’s there. She actually fixes things.”

Devon pointed toward a stone arch ahead. “That way cuts to the old quad. Don’t walk it alone after midnight unless you’re trying to get invited to something weird or sacrificed.”

I glanced at him. “Those are very different warnings.”

“At Aldrich, not always.”

I listened, nodded, and kept part of my attention on every hard edge we passed. Stone benches. Iron railings. Heavy brass door handles. A broken bit of slate near a planter that would do real damage if swung right. Father Two had taken my knives, but Aldrich had thoughtfully provided architecture.

Graduate housing appeared at the end of a tree-lined path, all dark brick, tall windows, and tasteful lighting. Devon held the door open with a little bow that made Priya roll her eyes. The lobby was warmer than outside and smelled like expensive cleaning products and someone’s perfume. A pair of students looked up from one of the leather couches, clocked me, and looked away a second too late.

“Subtle,” I said.

Priya laughed. “Don’t take it personally. People dress differently here to stand out, but they still expect everyone to stand out correctly.”

“I missed the pamphlet.”

“It shows.”

“Priya,” Maren said, soft warning threaded through her voice.

“What? It’s true.” Priya looked me over again, and this time her mouth curved. “The hair is good. The leather is a choice. The bowtie is suffering.”

Finally, someone understood me. Maren guided me toward the stairs instead of the elevator. “Most first-years are on the second floor. Criminal studies and behavioral sciences got grouped together this year, mostly. Business students are across campus. Law is split between here and Halden House, depending on how much their families donated.”

“You just clocked that I’m at this house versus the others?”

Devon snorted. “You have a kind of... aura. Welcome to Aldrich.”

They stopped outside a door with my number on it, and Maren waited while I checked the key card. The lock blinked green. My assigned room sat on the other side, clean and narrow and offensively harmless. My hand stayed on the knob while my brain tried to calculate how fast I could drop the bag, lose the bowtie, and get back to the path Nichlas had taken.

Priya leaned one shoulder against the wall. “So,” she said, casual in a way that wasn’t casual at all. “We saw you watching Nicky.”

My fingers tightened on the knob. Devon’s expression stayed pleasant, but he went still enough to make me reassess him. Maren only watched my face.

“Nicky?” I asked, and managed to make it sound like a question.

“Nichlas,” Maren said. “Business program. Blond, glasses, always looks like he’s trying to remember if he offended someone important.”

I pushed out a fake nervous laugh, trying to act normal. “Is that his official campus description?”

“It should be,” Priya said. “He’s cute, isn’t he? In a nervous, scholarship-boy-with-secrets way.”

“Priya,” Devon said.

“What? I’m helping.” She pushed off the wall, smiling like she knew exactly how little help she was being. “But if you want to get there, you’ll have to ask the Kings.”