Chapter 38 My Lady
SOMA
My mouth opens and closes without a word, and Helga laughs.
“Yeah. They have their effect on people.”
She doesn’t pause for long. She sweeps me along from one wing to another, her stories filling the silence. She shows me the boarding facilities made of massive stone dormitories with ivy crawling up the walls. Their arched windows glow warm in the late-afternoon light. It’s a home away from home for the royals.
Our next stop is the cafeteria, which looks less like a school dining hall and more like a five-star restaurant with its crystal chandeliers and polished silver. After that, we venture to another area of the campus.
“This is the ballroom,” she says, ushering me into a large hall where sunlight streams through floor-to-ceiling windows and bounces off tall mirrors. “The dances are legendary. The Mask Ball happens here.”
There’s no time for me to take it all in before she pulls me toward another building. “And this—” she throws open a heavy oak door—“is the combat room.”
The space is airy and wide enough to hold a small army. Mats cover the floor, and racks of weapons gleam in neat rows against the walls. I inhale, the scent of sweat and steel thick in the air, and for a moment I imagine claws clashing, voices shouting, and bodies colliding.
By the time Helga shows me the football and lacrosse fields, my head is spinning. Students dart across the grass, some chasing balls while others laugh in groups.
Finally, she leads me back inside, toward a long row of lockers. “This one’s yours,” she says, tapping a polished gold door.
She shows me how to set up a password, which I do immediately. When she asks for my schedule, I hand her the pamphlet I’ve been carrying. She scans through it and nods.
“Classes are over for today,” she tells me. “But I’ll show you where they’re held.”
We stop in front of a stone building with CLASS 1 etched boldly above its entrance.
“This is your class,” Helga explains. “Most of your theoretical lectures will be here, except for dancing and etiquette lessons. But you already know where those are.”
“Thanks,” I tell her. It would have been hard navigating this on my own. “You’re so kind.”
“It’s nothing, my lady.” She smiles, pleased with herself. “Now, I’ll take you to your quarters.”
We’re halfway down the corridor when familiar voices drift toward us. My stomach twists before I see them.
Maeve and Sheila appear from around the corner, both dressed in flowing skirts paired with fitted tops that cling to their slender frames.
“Soma,” Maeve says, her tone full of false sweetness. She stops in front of me with a pout. “We’ve been expecting you. Have they been treating you well at the palace?”
What? These are the same girls who have treated me like a rag all my life, and now they are fussing? I fall silent because, unlike her, I’m not good at pretending.
Maeve realizes her approach isn’t working, and her smile fades. “Oh, I see,” she says coldly. “Now you’re too big to talk to your dear cousins.”
Since I’m not ready to give her the satisfaction she craves, I remain quiet. Her eyes narrow, and she yanks me by the wrist. I react without thought, snatching my hand from her grip. Even after that, I don’t say a word.
“Just a few days at the palace and now you’re dumb?”
Helga steps between us before it escalates. “Is that how we address royals now? What do you think will happen if King Rowan or Priestess Lilith hears about this?”
Sheila, who has been quiet until now, finally speaks. “What happens in the academy stays in the academy.”
“Oh, really?” A laugh escapes Helga. She grabs my wrist. “Then you should have no problem with me telling Ms. Peterson about this lovely incident so she can forward it to the right authorities.”
Both girls blanch. Their bravado crumbles, and they scuttle away, skirts swishing as they disappear down the hall.
“Ignore those two,” Helga mutters, brushing imaginary dust from her hands. “I’ll show you to your quarters.”
We step outside again, the sun dipping low on the horizon, and painting the sky in strokes of orange and violet. She leads me to a two-story building nestled near the edge of the grounds, its front wall adorned with carved stone roses and lined with a neat row of manicured flowers.
“This is my stop,” she says cheerfully. “I’ll see you tomorrow. If you like, I can walk you to your first class.”
“Maybe.”
“Can I have your number?” she asks, tilting her head playfully.
My smile falls. “I don’t have a phone yet.”
Her eyes widen, and she bursts out laughing. “Seriously? You’re full of surprises, Lady Soma. Anyway, I’m sure that will be fixed soon. They won’t let you go the entire semester without a means of communication.”
After everything Lilith and King Rowan have done for me, a phone is the least of my concerns. Helga waves and heads off, leaving me standing at the landing. I climb up the short flight of stairs and exhale.
The door creaks beneath my fingers as I step inside. A faint scent of roses and flavored detergent welcomes me. I step into a spacious foyer with polished floors, afraid of making a mess of the space. A narrow console table lines one wall, topped with a bowl of smooth stones and a single vase holding a bouquet of red roses.
Just beyond, an arched opening leads into a cozy living room. Pale curtains filter the warm glow of the setting sun, casting soft shadows across the furniture. A pair of tufted armchairs flank a low glass table, and a cushioned couch faces a quiet fireplace that looks like it hasn’t been lit in weeks.
“My lady,” a soft voice calls from the living room.
I turn sharply, heart lifting at the familiar sound. Jade shoots to her feet the moment our eyes meet, and I fly across the room, launching us both onto the couch with the force of my hug.