He guides her hand back down his thigh, his face donning that icy mask. After a second of awkwardness, she retrieves her hand, crestfallen.
If she wasn’t the devil incarnate, I might actually feel sorry for her.
After the Mall of America, the professor visits other interesting “human” traditions like football, ping-pong, and rollerblading.
I almost choke on my suppressed laughter as Professor Lochlan explains football. “In this bizarre and violent sport, the ball represents a human baby,” she says, cradling a Nike football in between her large, furry hands. “The males on the field must prove they can protect this baby to entice women to be their mates.”
Well, then. Who knew? All of the shadows in the class are smart enough not to laugh at Lochlan as she continues her humorous interpretation of our world.
The rest of the lesson is on the differences between human and Fae virtues. As Lochlan explains, humans don’t outwardly appreciate cunning and cruelty in the same ways the Fae do. “Don’t get me wrong,” Professor Lochlan adds, her tail twitching. “In my experience, mortals have the same capacity for cruelty, they simply hide it better.” Jeez, it’s almost like she knows Cal Miller.
After that class, I fall into rhythm as Rhaegar’s shadow. I hold his books, type in his notes, and follow him through the hallways as he makes conversation with every Seelie student in existence. He doesn’t talk to me much, but I don’t mind, using the time instead to take in this new world.
Rhaegar moves within the Seelie circle, and he seems to know a little something about everyone. He asks a pixie boy who comes up to my waist about his sick mother. He flirts with a girl from the Autumn court, peppering her with compliments until the flesh of her cheeks goes from turquoise to pink.
It’s almost like he’s campaigning, although I have no idea for what. Perhaps all Fae are constantly maneuvering like this. Forming alliances.
Either way, it’s exhausting. By the time we make it to our last class, Properties of Magic, every step down the auditorium stairs sends my head spinning. When was the last time I drank water?
Ironically, I still have to pee. Crossing my legs, I carefully interrupt Rhaegar mid-conversation. He rips his gaze away from the four female fauns he was talking to, but the moment he recognizes me, his annoyed expression changes back to his pleasant mask.
“Do you need something?” he asks in a honey-sweet voice.
“I . . . can I use the restroom?” I ask, hating that I have to get his permission.
He frowns before sliding his lips into a tight smile. “Class is about to start, but tell you what . . . I need my tablet charger out of my locker. Grab it for me, will you? And if you have time, you can do the other thing.”
I flee before he can change his mind as the Fauns praise him for being so kind to me.
I’m not sure letting me answer the call of nature deserves sainthood, but who am I to judge?
My boots pound the wooden floor as I race down the corridors, desperate to unload my bladder. His white charger is in his locker just like he said. With the cord firmly in hand, I sprint to the bathroom.
The old clock above the wall says one minute till 6:30 p.m. Shit.
I make it just in time. Ah, sweet God in heaven.
When my bladder is gloriously empty and my hands are washed and smell of the school’s verbena and lavender soap, I dart out the door and jog for the stairs.
Please don’t be late. Please don’t be late. Please—
Voices snag my attention. I halt next to a stairwell, where the voices emanate, and press against the wall. From where I stand, whoever is speaking can’t see me.
“You were supposed to make sure she was yours,” an agitated male voice says.
“And she would have been, if you hadn’t jumped in,” a sultry female voice counters. “Rhaegar would have conceded to me. He was only doing it to get a rise out of the Unseelie. But once you entered the equation, he’d rather die than give her up.”
“Well, he’ll get the chance soon enough.” The smarmy voice sounds familiar, and I still my breathing as I strain to listen.
I grin as an oof sound—like the girl hitting the boy—makes its way to me.
“I still think bringing her here was wrong,” the girl snaps.
“I didn’t have a choice. Not with tracker wolves so close.”
The girl sighs. “She’s not ready for this—for any of it.”
“Then you have to make her ready.”