Isle of Night by Verónica Wolff Page B

the snow is?”
    I looked at her like she was insane. I was practically hypothermic, and she was asking me if I knew how cold the snow was. “N-no, I’m finding it quite balmy, actually.”
    â€œDrew,” she scolded sharply.
    I cursed myself. She may be my Proctor, but she was still an Initiate.
    â€œDrew,” she said again, more kindly. “I promised Ronan I’d help you, but I can’t paint you a picture.”
    She told Ronan she’d help me? Had he asked her to look out for me? If he and Amanda were that close, were they, like, that close?
    I forced myself to focus on the matter at hand. “A picture,” I repeated.
    â€œYou might . . . say . . . bring our Lilac a memento.” She looked meaningfully at the snow. “Let her know you was thinking of her.” Her thinking sounded like finkin’.
    Finally I got her gist.
    â€œWhatever you do, make it fast,” she said. “You need to get inside before you catch your death.”
    â€œB-beats evisceration,” I muttered. My cheeks were so frozen, I could barely form the words.
    She swung on me. “For fook’s sake!” she whispered in an angry hiss, sweeping her eyes left and right. “Don’t you ever let anyone hear you say that, or you’ll wake belly-up under the stones.”
    I gaped.
    â€œThat’s more like it. Now, keep your trap shut and start acting as clever as they say you are.” She began to walk away. “Cheers, dolly. Go get some sleep.”
    But I didn’t. Not right away. Even though my body was quaking uncontrollably, even though I’d lost feeling in my fingers, I bent to gather snow. I scooped it into a huge mound, carrying it in my arms. It seized my aching joints with a burning cold. But the thought of Lilac asleep in her warm bed numbed the pain.
    My legs thudding clumsily under me, I staggered back into the dorm. The blast of heat sent relieved tears streaming down my cheeks. I made it up to our room. Though soaked and shivering, I bypassed my bed. I didn’t grab my blanket, my towel, my coat.
    I went straight for Lilac.
    She was sleeping soundly, her lips parted, hands pressed, palms together, under her cheek as though in prayer. Her shining hair swept behind her on the pillow, gleaming and perfect, even in sleep.
    She was vulnerable, and I stood for a moment, savoring the power of it. I felt creepy, like an intruder, hovering there, staring.
    But then I smiled. And I dumped the mound of snow in the crook between those peacefully bent arms and that long, pale neck.
    Lilac’s shriek was piercing enough to shatter glass.
    â€œWhat the—?” She sprang from her bed, hopping free from her tangle of blankets. “Fucking snow! This fucking place.” Panting and screaming, she frantically brushed snow and ice from her body. “What the fuck? Who the—?”
    She spun on me. “You! I’m gonna kill you.” She jabbed her finger toward me, her eyes looking as if they might bug from her head. She was like a madwoman, the front of her hair soaked and hanging in limp strands around her face. The neck of her flannel nightgown was plastered to her. “I’ll get you for this, Charity. Oh, I will get you. It’s on .”
    But I found it hard to care about her threats when I was about to freeze to death. My body was wracked with tremors now, bones locked and muscles spasming from the cold. I’d despised the showers earlier, had sworn never to stand under hot water again. Now I couldn’t get there fast enough.
    I turned and stumbled to the washroom. Lilac’s shrieks followed me down the hallway.
    A few girls peeked from their doors, questions in their sleepy eyes. “What happened to her ?” one asked me.
    I shrugged. “I must’ve tracked in some snow.”
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    I BOLTED UP IN BED, heart pounding. I clutched my blanket to my neck, expecting to find last night’s vampire