“Then you should know, I laid a claim on her. With Mondragon.”
All three of them snap their eyes to me.
“When?” Roth asks.
“Just now. They were coming back from dinner and he must have caught my scent, because he pulled her in for a kiss and she wrapped her arms around him—” I shake my head as thememory makes me chest tighten. “He sent her inside and I asked him if he was laying his own claim on her. He said yes, and asked me the same. And I said I was.” When he looks at me, I know he’s replaying our conversation from the night I almost lost it after the Med Center, and every moment since, just like I did earlier today. “His dragon rose. Told me ‘I could try’. And then… so did mine. Roth—he spoke.”
That surprises all of them. “And?”
“Felt like my throat was being ripped apart. He told Mondragon, ‘Your blood will stain the sea before you ever get the chance,wyrm.’”
They’re all silent for a breath, before Killian laughs. “Fuck, that goes so hard.” The tension between us eases just enough to take a deep breath. “So they’re fucking, then?”
I shake my head. “I don’t know. I don’t think so, at least not yet. I didn’t smell him on her in class, did you?” he shakes his head.
“Well, if you’re both laying a claim, then I am too. What about you two?” He turns to Roth and Luther. Luther doesn’t answer, instead he picks up his fork and keeps eating. Roth looks between me and Killian.
“Is your demon under control? We can’t have another repeat of Wyckd.”
I nod, relaxing into my chair. “The new batch seems to be working. I was clear-headed, even when my demon spoke.”
Roth nods, his mind working to process the bombs that we’ve all dropped. “Stay close to her. Keep an eye on Mondragon. And the necromancer. For a powerless nobody, she’s certainly insulating herself with powerful allies.”
“What about you?”
“What about me?”
“Do you want her?”
He thinks for a moment as Killian and Luther pause to watch him, and I see his demon flash in his eyes. “Not like you two. Or you,” he side eyes Luther, who scowls. “I want to watch her fire burn hot and bright until she begs so sweetly on her knees for me to put it out. I want to bring her to heel.”
29
NYX
That was fucking weird.
Thane’s been a raging asshole, high out of his mind, focused and confident. But nervous? That’s… new.
My next class, Econ 202, is thankfully devoid of asshole Heirs. Unfortunately, Lyra is holding court with two girls I recognize as her cousins from when they ambushed Killian at my dorm and a gaggle of simpering idiots who are practically drooling over her low-cut shirt and thigh-high skirt. Her eyes narrow when she sees me, and I beeline for the back row on the opposite side of the classroom. I’d guess Professor Darius Malcolm—a Black man with graying hair at his temples and silver wire-framed glasses—to be in his mid-forties or so, and he reminds me of Brandt when he starts lecturing, because who else on earth gets excited abouteconomicsfor fuck’s sake?
“Excuse me, Professor,” Lyra interrupts, raising her hand.
He peers over the top of his glasses. “Yes, Ms. Aldrich?”
“I think Ms. Byrke is in the wrong class. She’s just a freshman.” She bats her eyes, ever the considerate student thinking of others, but he’s nonplussed.
“Ms. Byrke tested into my class before the start of term. Now, both the Dark and Light Councils align with the High Council’s fiscal policy to sup?—”
“How could a freshman nobody possibly test a full grade higher after one semester?” she protests, and Professor Malcolm looks at her again, perplexed.
“If you are so concerned, perhaps you can ask Ms. Byrke directly.After myclass is over,” he answers coldly.
Lyra crosses her arms over her chest and stares daggers at me, ignoring the professor’s frosty glare at her continued disruption. “It’s just, if she’s cheated her way into your class, isn’t it unfair to make you and the rest of us carry her weight? The whole thingreeksof favoritism.”
The professor seems at a loss for words in the face of her audacity as he takes off his glasses and sets them down on the lectern. “While I appreciate your consideration for my workload, I reviewed Ms. Byrke’s work personally before she presented her petition to the Board of Trustees. If you are calling into question not only my credentials for evaluating her competency but my integrity as an educator, I’m more than happy to discuss that privately. Perhaps we can invite Headmaster Church, who placed her my class following the Board’s approval.”
The entire class is silent as Lyra fumes, hiding behind that same brittle smile on her face as when Killian turned her down. “I don’t think that will be necessary, Professor. I only hope she can live up to the high expectations of Dreadhurst’s esteemed faculty like yourself.”
