SERAPHINA'S POV
The school has generously given me a week off to recover from the physical and emotional trauma of being attacked.
In reality, though, I know this 'grace period' is a tactical move-a cover-up for their failure to protect their students. It's a bribe, intended to keep me quiet and prevent any negative publicity.
Regardless, I appreciate their attempts to save face in the eyes of the Alpha King. Yet, I can't shake this restless energy that makes it impossible for me to lounge in Artemis' room all day while he and everyone else are out.
So, I decide to pay another visit to Olivia.
She looks just as pale as she did yesterday, her lips cracked and parched. But, thankfully, her face has filled out a bit more, and her scars and cuts are nearly fully healed.
The healing rate of wolves actually scares me when I think about it, making me even more interested in the supernatural.
I get why Kamila often says they're a superior race, able to heal from wounds and injuries quickly and immune to most deadly diseases that reduce the human population every year.
I sit by her side, playing with the tips of her silky black hair and quietly watching her sleep.
"How have you been, Olivia?" I whisper to her, imagining that she can hear me even through the veil of unconsciousness that covers her presently.
"You won't believe what happened even if I told you: I moved in with Artemis." I pause, imagining the reaction that would follow my words.
Her honey-amber eyes would widen, her jaw would drop, and she'd stare speechlessly for approximately three seconds before accusing me of being crazy.
I chuckle at the thought, wishing I could witness that reaction for real.
"Trust me, it's not what you think. I didn't agree to it willingly; it was his idea, and he has a point."
I push a lock of hair away from her face now.
"It's just to be safe; Morgan could come after me at any moment, and we have to be prepared, right?" I say, feeling a lump form in my throat.
"I miss you," I admit, as tears start to well up in my eyes during another stretch of silence, still no response from her.
My heart tightens at the thought of her stuck in this state for even longer, missing out on priceless high school memories, just because she got entangled in my life.
I'd never forgive myself if that happened.
"How touching."
I whirl around, my body snapping into a defensive stance at the sound of a voice behind me.
A wave of relief washes over me as I spot Kamila by the door, her presence no longer an immediate physical threat.
Even if she were, she's not the type to get her hands dirty-she's always had others to do that for her.
She takes slow, measured steps with her crutches, finally settling on the bed closest to us.
"What are you doing here?" I ask, my brows furrowing the moment she sits down.
Given our last run-in in the woods, and her sudden cancellation of her blackmail plans, I don't know what to make of her.
Is she playing nice now, or just baiting me into a false sense of security before striking again?
"I believe the school clinic is open for all students to use as they see fit," she replies, her tone dripping with casual indifference.
"Surely, you have some private hospital where you get your VIP treatment? Let's be honest, neither of us enjoys the other's company. So why don't we save ourselves the stress of sharing the same room?" My words come out frosty, every syllable laced in ice, as I await her response, secretly hoping she takes the hint.
Constantly trying to one-up each other has become tiresome, especially given the more important matters I have in my life right now.
She smiles, coyly. "Relax, Hawthrone. I'm not here to draw swords with you."
"Hawthrone?"
"Do you have a problem with that?"
"Actually, it's an improvement over 'human girl' or 'human filth.' It's almost as though you've finally seen me as your equal."
She rolls her eyes but doesn't verbally deny my statement, which leads me to believe she's accepted it. A small smile forms on my lips, marking a quiet victory in my mind.
"If you're not here to argue, then...?"
"I want to call a truce."
"Wow, I never thought I'd hear something like that from you."
"You seem to think I'm completely unreasonable," she retorts, arching her own eyebrow in turn.
"Can you blame me?" I shoot back, remembering all the undeserved taunts and bullying she's subjected me to. "You've been nothing but a thorn to my side since I came to this school, Kamila. That's not exactly the model vision of reasonable."
There's a bit of a pause while she regards me quietly.
"What would you do," she begins, her face taking on a solemn expression, "if an outsider suddenly entered a world you'd spent years building, and everything you knew started to unravel? Up becomes down; lies become truth. They take everything away from you and threaten your status just by existing. What would you do, Hawthrone? Fight back tooth and nail, or sit and watch your world crumble?"
Struck by the storm of emotions in her eyes, I find myself without words.
"Granted, I did some stuff for fun. But trust me, not everyone can handle that kind of threat gracefully. I admit, I've not done the best job of it myself. I know I'm not a good person; I no longer aim to be one. Recently, though, I've decided to stop blaming you. Maybe you're just another pawn in this game. In some ways, we're the same."
"Wow, Kamila. Did you just compliment me?"
She sighs, squinting her eyes as if pained by the admission.
"Please, don't make me regret this with your strange human sense of humor."
I nod, sealing my lips with an imaginary zipper.
"Now, back to why I'm here. I want a truce between us. In reality, we're both women under the thumb of a patriarchal system. We should be working together, don't you think?"
"By 'together,' you mean...?"
"I mean, you scratch my back, I'll scratch yours. Anything you could possibly need, I'll offer it to you, provided you assist me in return. The details of your assistance will be revealed later, of course."
I contemplate her offer, seeing it as tantalizing as a juicy steak dangled right in front of me, begging me to take a bite.
There's that age-old wisdom: keep your friends close and your enemies closer. It's a deal that's too enticing to pass up. What could possibly go wrong, right?
"Are there any ground rules I should know about before making a pact with the devil?" I ask.
She chuckles, her smile lighting up her entire face.
"Just one simple rule, actually. Don't double-cross me, Hawthrone. The version of me you've gotten used to is the least frightening. Bite the hand that feeds you, and I'll unleash hell's fury on you-and everyone you hold dear."
"You're doing a bad job of convincing me to take you up on your offer," I laugh nervously, rubbing my now sweaty palms together.
"I know; it's a double-edged sword, darling. Does it terrify you?" she asks, tilting her head to the side.
"Uhm, kinda."
"Good. Will you accept it?" She locks eyes with me, as if searching for something.
I take a moment to think, my heart pulsing loudly in my chest from the thrill of it all.
"Yes," I finally say, smiling.
"My, my, you're a precarious girl, aren't you? I like that," she says, getting to her feet and heading towards the door.
But before she can make it too far, she pauses and turns to look at me again.
"One last important question before we set this truce in motion. Tell me, what do you think of Artemis?"
"Artemis?"
"Yes."
"He's annoying, often selfish, and seems clueless about how to act around a woman," I recall most of our memories, but I leave out the other parts, like when he makes me smile, or laugh, or goes out of his way to keep me safe. Comfortable.
"Do you like him?" she asks, cutting straight to the point.
If I had a drink in my mouth, this is exactly the point it'd be splashed out from the shock.
"What? I- What? Ew, no. Never. It's Artemis. Artemis - I will be your worst nightmare - Sinclair. I'm not that crazy." My cheeks are hot now, and I pray to god that Kamila doesn't notice.
"Good, because that would complicate our new friendship, wouldn't it? We can't have that." She says, her smile taking on an ominous tone before she turns to leave.
The word 'friendship' catches me off guard, but I shake it off quickly.
"Wait, I have a question of my own," I call out, stopping her in her tracks.
"You took back your accusations about the theft and arson, didn't you?"
"Your question sounds more like a statement," she observes.
"It's still a question. Did you?"
I want to hear it straight from her mouth, to convince myself that maybe she's not as terrible as I thought-maybe she's just another girl yearning for a genuine friendship like anyone else would.
"You already have your answer," she replies elusively, continuing her exit.
This time, I let her go.