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“Here,” Hedeon says, pushing down the bench to make room. “There’s space for one more.”
Bram grunts his thanks, dropping down beside me.
“Never seen the dining hall from this side,” he says, glancing around.
“This is prime real estate,” Leo says. “It’s a straight shot back to the galley to refill your plate.”
“Might do that a couple of times.” Bram stuffs half a croissant in his mouth.
“You look like you already did,” Chay says with a wicked smirk.
“What are you saying?”
“Oh, nothing. Just that you’re a couple more croissants away from Father Christmas.”
“Get the fuck outta town,” Bram says, outraged. “Father Christmas couldn’t gift himself abs like this.”
He yanks up his shirt to display his stomach, which only makes Chay and Rakel laugh.
“She’s just winding you up,” I tell Bram.
“Don’t you fuckin’ test me,” Bram says to Chay. “I’ll strip all the way down, just like Leo.”
“You’ll regret it,” Leo says. “It’s breezy in here.”
As the banter bounces back and forth across the table, Cat and I lock eyes. She smiles at me in a way that lets me know I’m more than welcome here.
After breakfast,I ask Cat if she wants to come for a walk with me.
“Sure,” she says. “It’s cold, though . . .”
“I know a place we can go.”
I take Cat to the south side of campus where the twin greenhouses stand.
To call them greenhouses hardly does justice to the vast iron and glass structures—each one rivals the Crystal Palace built in Hyde Park for the London Exhibition. Much of the produce consumed at Kingmakers is grown here, as well as herbs and Professor Thorn’s collection of rare orchids.
“Oh!” Cat says, thrilled by our passage from the chilly day into the warmth and humidity of the greenhouse. “I didn’t know we could come in here!”
“Nobody’s stopped me yet.”
The scent of leaves and blossoms is heady and overwhelmingly alive. It feels as if we’ve stepped into another world.
Cat removes her jacket and then pulls off her sweater as well, draping both over her arm. Her curls spring up tighter than ever in the humidity.
Condensed droplets run down the interior of the glass walls, and snow sits along the iron spines of the exterior. The plants look vividly green against the white snow.
“That was nice at breakfast,” Cat says. “All of us sitting together like that.”
“It wasn’t bad,” I say, by way of agreement.
Cat looks at me with those dark eyes, always alive and curious, never restful.
“You don’t seem to hate Leo as much as you once did.”
“We’re not friends,” I say roughly.
“But you don’t want to kill him anymore.”
