The dining hall was a cacophony of clattering plates and raised voices, a sea of black and grey uniforms. It was the first public test of our new, fragile reality. I kept my head down, focusing on the bland stew on my tray, hyper-aware of every glance thrown my way.
Kaelix sat beside me, a silent, worried presence. He hadn't spoken much since our conversation in my room, but his loyalty was a steady anchor in the storm.
Then I felt it. A shift in the air pressure, a collective instinctual response. I didn't need to look up to know Zevran had entered the hall. The noise level dipped slightly before rising again, charged with a new energy.
I kept my eyes fixed on my food, but I tracked his movement through my peripheral vision. He moved through the tables with that same effortless authority, his path taking him directly toward the empty seat across from me. My heart hammered against my ribs. This was a statement. Sitting with me, his supposed rival, in front of everyone.
He set his tray down with a soft thud and slid into the seat. His gaze was a physical weight, but I refused to meet it. I could feel the eyes of the entire hall on us.
"Silvius," he said, his tone flat, perfectly mimicking the cold disdain he'd always used with me in public.
"Graves," I replied, my voice equally toneless. The performance had begun.
He began to eat, his movements efficient. The silence at our table was a stark contrast to the noise surrounding us. It was thick, strained, screaming with everything left unsaid.
Then, he did something small, so subtle I almost missed it. His foot, under the table, brushed gently against mine. It was a fleeting touch, lasting less than a second, but it sent a jolt of warmth through my entire body. A secret message in the middle of a crowded room. I'm here. I see you.
My breath caught in my throat. I risked a glance at him. He wasn't looking at me, his attention seemingly on his food, but the corner of his mouth twitched in the faintest hint of a smile.
It was all the confirmation I needed. The mask was firmly in place, but the connection was real. A dangerous, thrilling secret shared between us in plain sight.
The moment was shattered by the scrape of a chair. Daren stood up from a nearby table, his friends snickering behind him. He swaggered over, his eyes glinting with malice.
"Look at this," he announced, his voice carrying. "The top two Alphas, breaking bread together. Did you two finally kiss and make up in the woods?"
Laughter rippled through his group. My knuckles turned white where I gripped my spoon. The old fear, the instinct to shrink and hide, surged up. But before it could take hold, I felt it again—the subtle pressure of Zevran's foot against mine, firmer this time. A silent command. Hold your ground.
Zevran slowly lifted his head, his expression one of bored contempt. "Is there a problem, Daren? Or are you just jealous that our team finished first while yours needed a search party to find your way out of a thicket?"
More laughter erupted, this time at Daren's expense. His face flushed an ugly red. His gaze swung to me, seeking a weaker target.
"And you, Silvius. You're awfully quiet. Letting your new... friend do all the talking for you now?"
All eyes were on me. This was the test. I had to be the cold, untouchable Alpha. I had to sell the lie.
I lifted my gaze to meet Daren's, allowing every ounce of the icy control I had cultivated to show in my eyes. "I don't waste words on pointless chatter," I said, my voice cutting through the noise like shards of glass. "Unlike some."
The insult landed perfectly. Daren's smirk faltered. He'd expected me to fluster, to show weakness. He found none.
Zevran didn't smile, but I saw the approval in his eyes. A fierce, proud glint that made heat bloom in my chest.
"Run along, Daren," Zevran said, his voice dropping to a dismissive low. "The adults are talking."
Defeated and humiliated, Daren turned and stalked away, his cronies scrambling after him. The tension in the hall slowly returned to its normal hum.
Under the table, Zevran's foot found mine once more. This time, he didn't pull away. He let it rest there, a solid, reassuring pressure hidden from the world.
We finished our meal in that charged silence, two rivals performing a delicate public dance. To anyone watching, we were the same as always: cold, competitive, distant.
But they couldn't see the secret conversation happening beneath the table. They couldn't feel the anchor of his foot against mine, a silent promise in a sea of threats.
We had passed the first test. But as I stood to leave, my tray clattering with the others, I knew it was only the beginning. The mask was holding, but the weight of it was already becoming unbearable.
And I had only one dose of suppressant left.