The look she gives makes me feel like a nuisance, and I wonder if this is standard. If she regards Elle like a bug on the bottom of her shoe and that’s where the tension between them comes to a head.
It’s one thing to tell your sibling you don’t believe in them and a whole different one to look at them like you don’t.
Still, I need her help, so I don’t let her disdain intimidate me.
“I’m not sure I’m qualified to assist you with auditions for a play,” Quincy notes after a long moment. “I’d suggest asking someone else.”
“Aren’t you the head of the classics department? Who could be more qualified?”
She pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose, sitting back in her fluffy, rolling desk chair. Her entire office is covered in potted plants, some flowering and some just boring old leaves, which makes the floral aroma a bit overwhelming. I rub my nose with my knuckles, trying to dislodge the sudden itch to sneeze.
“Don’t you think there’s a huge difference between studying the classics and performing them?” she asks, her dark eyes searching mine. “Otherwise, why would we have separate departments at all?”
“Studying them should be the precursor to performance,” I tell her, pointing at the copies ofThe IliadandThe Aeneidon the corner of her desk. “Acting is all about interpretation, and you can’t really do that without understanding the texts you’re trying to pull from. Thus, I think you’d be a great co-casting director.”
“I don’t know, Sutton. Shakespeare’s a little different from Homer, and it feels like a conflict of interest.” She shifts, glancing at the books. Quincy Anderson might be the only person on this campus more interested in the rules than I am.
“Given how highly Dean Bauer regards you, I find it difficult to believe you’d allow personal relationships to tie in whatsoever with your decision-making.”
“The dean doesn’t really like me,” she says. “I know you’re not dumb enough to believe his blustering, especially after what happened in the fall.”
“How he really feels hardly matters if he’s willing to pretend, right?”
“I suppose, but how long does that last?” She lifts a shoulder, shrugging. “Avernia’s hanging by a very thin thread, if you ask me. Your sister’s death was just the tip of the iceberg. ”
That stirs unease within my muscles, and they tense up. “Bellamy’s death was an accident.”
“Officially.” She meets my gaze. “Somehave suggested otherwise, and after what your brother pulled last semester, I’m inclined to believe it.”
I say nothing.
“You don’t have to agree out loud. I’m not usually wrong.”
“It is what it is.”
“Doesn’t have to be,” she says.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“That not everyone is as comfortable letting a town curse and corruption from the founding families run rampant as you are. I know you were born into this world, so it’s probably difficult to see a way out, but…I wasn’t. I came here voluntarily.”
“Do you stay voluntarily?” I ask, though I can already guess the answer.
No one around here talks about Avernia’s underbelly unless they know too much.
Too much to be allowed to leave quietly.
I imagine it’s why she’s still here despite her brother’s brush with death. Why she came back after graduating and, according to Pythia, swearing off this place entirely.
Death’s Teeth or not, once Avernia sinks its claws into a person, it doesn’t easily let go.
Quincy leans back in her chair, glancing atThe IliadandThe Aeneid. “My sister gifted those books to me for my high school graduation. Mint condition, rare antiques she haggled with at least three collectors over because she knew I loved the stories.”
Shit. I don’t want to talk about Elle right now. She’s the main reason I’m here, begging for a fucking buffer. After kissing her in the Obeliskos the other day, the feel of her lips on mine is the only thing I’ve been able to think about, and I know that if I’m left to my own devices with her, I’ll start obliterating every line and boundary.
And though I want to, I also want to respect her wishes. I don’t want her to feel like she’s coerced me into something, especially when it’s clear she’s hiding things from her past that make her the way she is.
I don’t care about the substance of the rumors, but I care if they’ve done irreparable harm to the woman I can’t stop thinking about.
