Page 117 of Glutton for Punishment

My relief vanishes. Gluttony classes? But I’m a Wrath!

“You are going to be significantly behind in potions, and we will have you take the freshman classes as well.”

I groan. “Is that necessary?”

She stares at me, unimpressed.

“I’m also assigning you to Gluttony power training with a small group of second-year students who possess active manifested powers outside of the traditional potion specialization that we usually see.”

My stomach flips. Power training with other people? Someone could get hurt.

“And,” she added, glancing down at her notes, “given your demonstrated combat experience…”

I straighten.

“…you will now be permitted to attend combat training classes.”

My mouth drops open; all thoughts of power training vanished. “You’re serious? You beautiful, terrifying woman.”

I stand and rush to give her a hug. She pushes me away, but her lips press together like she’s fighting a smile. “That decision was mine. Not the Council’s. You’ll have more time now that you’re not in every sin power class.”

Warmth hits my chest.

“I expect you to justify that choice,” she says. “Train hard. Gain control of your abilities.”

“Of course. Absolutely. I won’t let you down. Any chance at all we could negotiate on the uniforms?”

The hint of a smile drops from her face.

“…Never mind.”

“Tomorrow at nine a.m.,” she continues, “you will meet with me, two Gluttony professors, and Combat Master Brady in Room 403 for a power demonstration.”

Ice fills my veins, and I try very hard not to show any signs of panic. The scene of the dismembered man floods my mind.

“Your academy phone from last year is back in your desk, and your belongings remain in the same room. For now, you can remain in the Wrath dorms. You are dismissed.” She finishes, tucking her files back into the cabinet.

I rise, gathering my bags with shaky hands, and make it halfway to the door before her voice stops me. “Oh—and Arwen?”

I turn to find a small smile on her face. “We’re glad to have you back at SinVail.”

Chapter 33

Arwen

“Are you nervous?” Holly asks around a mouthful of toast, like we’re discussing an upcoming quiz and not the possibility of me accidentally dismembering faculty before first period. I stab at my yogurt cup, feeling too nauseous to eat.

“Of course she’s nervous,” Tabby says, stealing fruit off Cleo’s plate. “They were going to exile her to the Wastes just for not having a sin power—imagine what they’ll do if she removes Dean Bellows’s right arm!”

Cleo slaps her hand as she goes back for more fruit. “Can you try to be helpful for once? And get your own strawberries!”

“She’s not wrong,” I mutter.

The breakfast hall buzzes around us in a familiar way that should be comforting. My first breakfast back behind the walls of SinVail. Instead, I have vicious butterflies and the feeling that half of the eyes in the cafeteria are on me… and not in a good way.

I guess that should also be normal, but last year the looks were pity or disgust. Now it’s like the eyes are trying to dig under my skin, find my secrets so they can place me in the appropriate category.

Horrifying monster or a sad nobody who took a Councilor’s son off the market?