The Black Pawn • The first book of the Black Academy Series

21. Stage Six

AZALEA SELENE WOKE up that day, feeling numb. She didn't know why. She felt as if something bad was coming but she couldn't pinpoint what. She just had a sinking feeling in her heart and an unfamiliar ache in her body. She thought she knew the problem when she reached the dining hall. Like all other mornings, she had expected to take a plate of food and eat in her room.

But instead, she saw that students were milling about. Waiting. With no food on the plates in front of them. An overall somber mood took over them. Her heart felt like lead. And her throat constricted. The well in her stomach went deeper than it ever had before. It had been two weeks since the fifth stage. It was the last day of the selection. And the final, sixth stage.

She let out a shaky breath. It was inevitable. The Selection was ruthless and sickening but its last stage- it was unbearably savage. Azalea made her shaky way into the dining hall and towards a seat. She didn't care who sat beside her, she didn't care what was happening. She was too busy trying to make sure that she didn't collapse then and there.

She sat down too immersed in her thoughts. She didn't notice the boy sitting beside her. Or anything about the boy. She was quiet for a few minutes. Then she felt a shudder go through the body of the boy sitting beside her. She felt it mainly because the boy made it plainly visible. She turned her head to look at him through the corner of her green-tinted eyes.

Close-cropped blonde hair. Sharp features that were riddled with nervousness. He was nervously twiddling his fingers under the table. He was terrified like her, only, he just didn't bother to hide it.

She acted on instinct. Grabbed the boy's hand, and turned away, not eyeing him from the side. She looked straight ahead, at the others sitting around the table. Out of the side of her mouth, she harshly whispered, "Stop doing that, you're freaking me out too."

Her grip on his hand disappeared. Her hands fell in her lap. But, she still felt a gaze burning into the side of her head. She knew it was just some time before-

"Aren't you scared— or nervous?"

"Believe me, I might be more nervous than you." She muttered, "You'll get used to the nervousness in some time. Most probably when someone's threatening you with a blood-covered dagger."

The boy bit his lip, "That doesn't sound desirable."

"Well, then that means that you have some common sense." Azalea said, giving him a thumbs up and wide grin, "Quite unlike many individuals here."

"Thank you."

She waved off his thanks, "It's fine. I'm Azalea by the way."

"Like the flowers." She nodded, he smiled, "I'm Nate Bartholomew."

"Boy, that just trips right off the tongue." Suddenly, the dark drab morning had turned light-hearted for her. She wasn't scared anymore. Not more than she should be.

She no longer felt like she was going to puke her guts out. She no longer felt as if someone was stabbing her repeatedly. She felt as if she was getting poked in the arm with a needle, repeatedly. And it was a thousand times better.

She talked to Nathaniel Bartholomew. His nervousness had calmed her down. She had been talking to him for nearly 20 minutes when they walked in. She hadn't noticed Elizabeth and Anna entering. They weren't sitting that far from her. Instead, they were sitting three seats away. She tilted her head to look at them. Smiling when she caught their eyes.