The Second Chance Of The Rejected Moon (Celine and Bastian) novel Chapter 44

Chapter 44

The guards behind me try to hold back their laughter, and some fail miserably.

“I think they’re in the dining hall,” says the same man who informed me about the ladies earlier. “The laughter is coming from there. This way, Luna.”

We follow him through another narrow corridor where water falls from a huge crack in the ceiling directly into a rustel metal pot.

That will definitely have to be repaired first.

Or perhaps the school should simply be rebuilt from the ground up.

I hear heavy footsteps running toward me and automatically turn to see who is coming, but when the guards step aside to make way and slightly lower their heads in respect, I feel that familiar tug inside my chest.

Bastian.

The moment he sees me, he walks straight toward me and takes my hand, intertwining our fingers as if it were the most natural thing in the world, as if he had been doing it for years and there were no one else around.

“I arrived just in time. They told me you were almost ready to head back to the castle.”

I give him a look.

He is soaked from head to toe. Water drips from his dark hair, runs down the collar of his coat, and falls in small drops onto the floor. His mud-covered boots have left a trail across the school’s wooden floor, and I cannot help shaking my head when I see him.

“What? Aren’t you happy to see me? I wanted to surprise you.”

A shout echoes through the corridor.

I recognize Arlet’s voice immediately.

“It’s not that. It’s just that you’re getting mud everywhere and dripping water all over the floor.”

Bastian raises the eyebrow marked by his scar and looks at the muddy footprints he has left behind. Then he looks back at me as though he cannot find a single problem with it.

“I think the school has bigger concerns than a few muddy footprints. Don’t you?”

I’m not going to argue with that because he’s right.

Another shout cuts through the building, louder this time, followed by the cry of a child.

The amused expression disappears completely from Bastian’s face.

“Come on. I don’t want to miss this. Besides, we need to hurry before the pups get their way.”

Without letting go of my hand, he guides me toward the dining hall. His strides are long and confident, forcing me to walk a little faster to keep up with him. As we move down the corridor, the shouting grows louder, mixed with raised voices and the muffled crying of several children.

Something tells me that by the time we get there. Arlet will already have crossed a line she should not have crossed.

When we reach the double doors of the dining hall. Bastian releases my hand and hides himself so the ladies will not see

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The Second Chance Of The Rejected Moon

him. He leans against the wall, which creaks beneath his weight, and gestures for me to go in first.

Silence falls the moment I push both doors open and step inside with the guards behind me.

“What are all those screams?” I ask loudly enough for everyone to hear. “Didn’t anyone teach you any manners? Let go of that little girl!”

The smell of hot soup, freshly baked bread, and damp clothes hangs in the air, mixed with the tension that instantly settles” over the tables. Dozens of faces turn toward me. Some children freeze with their spoons halfway to their mouths while others watch with wide eyes, far too accustomed to staying quiet whenever adults start shouting.

Arlet has a little girl by the collar of her old sweater and looks ready to slap her.

Her hand freezes in the air and, for a fraction of a second, surprise flashes across her face before she quickly lowers her arm and releases the child.

The girl, completely unconcerned, immediately kicks her in the knee.

“Don’t ever push my little brother again or I’ll gut you, you old witch!” the little girl shouts.

Several mouths fall open around the tables.

“You…”

The child lifts her chin defiantly while breathing hard. Her cheeks are red, loose strands of hair have escaped from her braids, and her fists are clenched so tightly that her knuckles have turned white.

“Were you about to hit a little girl, Arlet? Didn’t I give you and your friends a task?”

I move forward slowly and the sound of my boots echoes across the stone floor. The children rush back to their tables at full speed like mice fleeing a storm. Some drag their younger siblings along with them while others watch from a distance. pretending to eat. The other ladies remain gathered in a corner of the dining hall, following the scene with tense, nervous expressions.

“You are not doing what I asked. You’re here with them, tormenting children.”

Arlet adjusts her pink jacket with rigid movements and straightens to her full height. Her chin lifts several inches in a clearly calculated posture, a desperate attempt to regain the control she just lost in front of the entire dining hall.

“I am not your damned servant, Celine.” She takes a step toward me. “Don’t think I don’t know who you are and where you come from Do you think any of us are going to respect you? You are nobody!”

The words fall into the silence.

No one moves.

No one seems to breathe.

At last she shows her true face. Not the fake smile. Not the empty courtesy. Not the polite mask she has worn since she arrived.

This is what she truly thinks.

I simply smile at her and tilt my head slightly.

“What did you call me?”

My voice comes out calm, and that seems to embolden her. Her friends gather behind her like a small, poorly organized army. They all cross their arms, trying to appear confident, although some avoid looking directly at me while others cast

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