Chapter Twelve: Preparations | Part 3
Thirtyx let them bicker while he basked in the knowledge that their wacky schemes would have to wait until they returned from their Comp. He’d have a hard enough time coming to terms with this new knowledge without their interference, especially given the looming fear of being alone for an entire weekend.
“You won’t be alone,” Seerla reassured him at lunch, a few bars before the twins left. “I’m not a master sorcerer, but I do alright. People typically don’t mess with me.”
Knowing why Thirtyx’s energy demands remained unsatisfied despite all the magic majors’ anxiety was both a blessing and a curse. It was easier to accept and compartmentalize the sensation once he understood it, but at the same time, he now knew what would satiate him.
He hadn’t previously thought it possible to spend such an astounding percentage of lunch fantasizing about leaping across the table and pressing his lips to Seerla’s.
“Honestly, I think all the dirty looks at Thirtyx are social posturing.” It was the 15th time this week Benn had said as much, and to his credit, Thirtyx was starting to believe him. “No one wants to be seen mingling with the enemy, so everyone’s making a point to act disgusted by you. But it’s a massive jump from ridicule to physical harm.”
A massive jump, but not an impossible one.
It was better for Thirtyx’s sanity to get off this topic, so he gave his hand a dismissive wave. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll be fine. But how are you two faring? Only a few bars now.”
Benn’s hand twitched like it was reflexively reaching for a textbook. Rhea rolled her eyes so hard her whole head rolled with them. “I’ve told you this whole term, it’s going to be cake. I haven’t worried once.”
Thirtyx wished she knew how much that statement tasted like cake—or the Verith equivalent. Lately, while she pretended to sketch sigils that might help Grimmary, she’d actually been completing lightly glamoured practice exams. She’d spent an unusual amount of time in her room, and on more than one occasion, Thirtyx had caught her peeking at a grimoire under her desk during their political science classes.
But Thirtyx wouldn’t dream of calling her out in front of Seerla. Oh the things she could say in revenge…
“Have you guys ever been to the Ambervale Inn?” Seerla asked with a wistful smile. “I went with my family once. It has such a gorgeous view.”
“There to taunt and intimidate us, I imagine,” Benn said. “I’ve heard they use that massive field of flowers for some wild stuff during the practical—”
“Are the Selkies planning any festivities while we’re all gone?” Rhea said pointedly over the end of his sentence. “Don’t they usually throw a rager for all the seniors who stay behind?”
Seerla picked at the end of her braid. “Mmm, yeah. They’re all going upriver tomorrow night to Ambrosia’s family’s lake house. Nephrie keeps begging me to go, but as awful as everyone’s been lately…”
“You should go enjoy yourself!” Thirtyx’s new hunger flared in protest, but he ignored it. “You shouldn’t feel obligated to be my bodyguard all weekend. And as sad as it is to admit, I’m pretty decent at barricading my dorm door.”
She folded her arms. “It’s not about the bodyguarding. I’m not sure how good a time I’d have knowing there was only one senior left behind, and it was because he wasn’t invited.”
Thirtyx tried to pretend her defense of him was annoying instead of touching and chivalrous, but his yearning for her energy flooded his brain. Righteous stubbornness looked really great on her, didn’t it? Twins, Thirtyx didn’t want it to look great. He had enough to worry about with the Law Comp and watching his back and the attacks on Grimmary…
The door to the dining hall opened with a clatter that knocked Thirtyx out of his reverie. It was loud enough to drive a lull in the conversation, and as Thirtyx was turning to survey the intrusion for himself, the cacophony rose again in a wave of whispering and muttering.
Headmistress Azirenne stood in the doorway, still in her traveling cloak. The blood drained out of Thirtyx’s face.
She was back.
But how?
Calley Jones 