“You’re in over your head.”
I winced. “You’re going to tell my parents?”
“Frankly, I should do more than that. I should banish him.”
Startlement jumped through me, then anger. That wasn’t her call to make. “That seems excessive.”
“Is it?” she returned, more forcefully than I’d expected. “Naomi, you have no idea what he might do to you, out of amusement or by accident. If this is because you wish to have a tutor so you can maintain the grades for your scholarship—I can afford a tutor.” She sighed, rubbing her forehead. “Unfortunately, I don’t have the money for your tuition, or I’d pay it outright. But I can help navigate loans. You can live with me, and you won’t have to pay for housing.”
I lowered my head, embarrassed she’d do so much for me. “Thank you.” The water boiled, and I poured us both our tea. “But you don’t have to.”
“That makes it sound like it’s not about your bargain, then,” she said heavily. “It’s about him.”
I bit my lip. I should probably tell her about how the betrothal bound us together; she’d probably help nullify it. But for some reason, I was reluctant. Daziel was an infuriating demon, but he wasmyinfuriating demon, and our arrangement worked. “It’s complicated.”
She rubbed her nose. “I’m not unaware of the appeal of unique or forbidden romances. I was eighteen once. But the two of you have no future. I say this not to be hurtful but to set your expectations. Sleep with him, laugh with him—”
“I’m not sleeping with him!” I interrupted, mortified to have this brought up again. My mortification doubled when my aunt gave me a pitying look. It wasn’t clear if she pitied me fornothaving sex or if she thought I was lying.
“Enjoy your time—but remember he’s not going to stay. He’ll be gone with the winds.”
“Why are you even talking to me, then?” I said bitterly. “If you’ve made up your mind to banish him?”
She studied her mug. “Because I haven’t. Ishouldbanish him and tell your parents. As your aunt, I should protect you from inevitable heartbreak, and potentially worse.”
I straightened, curious. This wasn’t the turn I’d expected our conversation to take. “But?”
“But I’m also a Judahite representative on the Sanhedrin. And having a shayd in my corner is leverage. People who don’t normally socialize with me will accept invitations if it means they might meet a shayd.”
This shocked me more than it should have. “You’re as bad asthe classmates who asked me out so they could meet you. You want to use me.”
“If it leverages me connections so I can make more allies and pass better laws? Yes.” She stirred her tea. “You’re worried about the weakening maelstroms, the strengthening winds, the birds disappearing?”
I nodded.
She gave me a grim smile. “So am I. I’ve been trying to raise funding and awareness and get more research into what’s happening. As long as you’re not in actual danger, yes, I’m willing to use you. Your inevitable heartbreak?” She gave a one-shouldered shrug. “I’ll accept that as collateral damage.”
Brutal. I was almost impressed.
At that moment, Daziel walked past the parlor door toward the stairs, then doubled back on seeing us. He was kitted out in his knockball clothes, his equipment bag slung over his shoulder, bright athletic shoes on his feet. “Hi.”
Aunt Tirtzah stared. He couldn’t look less dangerous if he’d tried. He looked like a Lyceum student badly in need of a shower. Which should have made me wrinkle my nose, but his sporty, sweaty demeanor worked for him. “I know,” I said to my aunt. “He’s very confusing.”
“You play knockball?” Aunt Tirtzah asked.
“Middle back,” he said cheerfully. He leaned his bag against the wall—definitely not something the dorm guardienne would approve of—and swung a chair around to sit in backward. “You a fan? What’s your team?”
“The Green Sparrows.”
I gaped at my aunt. “Youfollow knockball?”
She cast me a droll look. “I do have hobbies.”
“Naomi hates knockball.” Daziel snagged my tea and drained it in several long gulps. He slipped the lip of the mug into his mouth as though ready to chomp down, then caught my side-eye and hastily put it on the table.
“I don’t hate it.” I removed the mug from his reach, overly aware of how intimate sharing a drink looked. “It’s just not my thing.”
“Naomi only likes things more than a century old.”
