“We have this hall, and we were stuck with that weird canteen before?” Cent wandered her onyx-colored eyes around, dazzled by the extravagance of the dining area where the headmaster had led them.
And by them, it meant the royalties and the participants.
Five long ebony tables were already lined with lavish food. Flying piglets with absurdly small wings loitered around the grand hall, making Cent think they belonged on the plates rather than carrying the trays. Gemstone chandeliers hung above, and a damn orchestra played in the background—something that made her wince. She hated this kind of stuff.
Matilda snorted. “Sometimes I wonder, girlie, if you’re really a student at Transylvania Academy.”
The dry tone in Matilda’s voice told Cent that her zombie friend had given up on her, to wh
