When Stars Come Out (When Stars Come Out 1)

“I guess you don’t know me very well, then.” He blows the remainder of the smoke from his mouth and nostrils, and nods toward the driveway. “Is that your mom?”

My heart picks up speed. Sure enough, when I look, she’s there. I glance at Thane, wondering if she saw him smoking. She might assume I’ve fallen in with the wrong crowd, and on the first day, too.

“Well, it was…nice…talking to you.”

A smirk cracks Thane’s lips. It does strange things to his eyes, and by strange, I mean inviting.

“I look forward to getting to know you, Anora.”

My skin pricks as I think of the possibilities behind those words. I hurry away from him. As I approach the car, I can’t make out the expression on my mother’s face, and I feel a sense of dread as I open the passenger side door and slide into the seat.

Damage control, I remind myself.

“Hey, Mom!” My voice sounds unnatural and high-pitched. “How was the interview?”

A tactical move—this question keeps Mom from asking about my day, and about Thane and his stupid cigarettes. I bow my head, sniffing the collar of my blazer, I hope I don’t smell like them.

“It went great,” she smiles, and I straighten a bit. “I got the job. I start tomorrow.”

“So soon?”

“I’ll admit we won’t be able to get the house in order until this weekend, but...we should be thankful it was this easy.”

Her voice changes—sharpens—and it feels more like an accusation than a statement. It’s something Mom—whether she realizes it or not—was doing even before we came here, and each comment is like a stab to my gut. What confidence I gained from her smile evaporates immediately, and I shift my gaze forward.

“Well, I’m happy for you, Mom.”

She doesn’t respond, but I feel her eyes on me.

“So, who was the boy?”

I look at her. “The boy?”

She narrows her eyes. “The boy you were talking to just now.”

“Oh,” I can feel my face burning. “No one I know, really.”

The silence strains against my ears and the air feels solid as Mom puts the car in gear and drives away. Since coming here, she’s been more demanding when it comes to how I answer her questions and I guess she has the right. I’ve been lying to her for a really long time.

As we leave, I look in the mirror and spot Thane staring up at the empty noose, swinging over the doors of Emerson Hall.

CHAPTER FOUR – SHY & THE ASSIGNMENT

“You’re late, Shy,” Jacobi says.

The edge of one of his long knives flies over my head. I duck, swinging my blade toward his legs. The move prompts Jacobi to jump back, giving me the space I need to straighten. We stand opposite each other in our hybrid forms, dressed in black suits as tight as our own skin. Large iridescent-black wings sprout from our backs and sweep behind us.

It feels good to be in this form, like I’ve dropped a heavy cloak from my shoulders. Even though this is how I was born—with silver hair and wings—it’s not my preferred form. As a Valryn—a raven shape shifter—I have three forms: a hybrid, raven, and human form.

I actually like my human form the most. If my friends heard me say that, I’d never hear the end of it. I’m pretty sure there’s some universal law that says a Valryn’s favorite form cannot be their human form.

“So, what kept you?” Jacobi continues.

He likes to talk when we train. I don’t.

My hands tighten around the hilts of my weapons, and I glance at the black two-way mirror through which our Commanders observe and score us during training. I don’t really want to discuss why I wasn’t on time while they are listening, but I know it hasn’t gone unnoticed.

Jacobi takes advantage of my distraction by jumping to attack. What little lift he gains works against him, slowing his assault. I bring my blades up to counter his blow.